MR. POTTS SUFFERS—INEXPRESSIBLY.
He was soon at the door of the up-town mansion whither Mr. Briggs had retired from the “dry-salted,” “roans,” and “skivers” of the “Swamp,” with a plum in his pocket, and one fair daughter whom Mr. Potts loved well if not wisely. Just as he was about to ascend the marble steps, an omnibus dashed by, and to the infinite horror of the wearer, deposited several large mud-blotches upon the delicate pearl-gray inexpressibles, in which were encased the nether limbs of the unfortunate Mr. Potts. With a muttered malediction between his teeth, he rang the bell, and was ushered into the hall. As he had come somewhat early, with the hope of finding the fair Mary Briggs alone, in which case he determined to make more than a passing call, he was in the act of laying aside his paletot, when a shrill cry and a simultaneous pang, made him aware that the tail of a monstrous cat was crushed under his boot, while the claws of the agonized animal were firmly fixed in his leg. Mr. Potts could not at once free himself from the hold of the enraged beast, for his arms were pinioned behind him by his upper garment, of which he was disencumbering himself. This circumstance nowise tended to restore his mental equilibrium, which had been disturbed by the previous occurrences.
