“Don’t know!” answered Ben.
“Well, what sort of a man is this Mayor, anyway?”
“If you want my private opinion of him,” replied Ben, “I can give it to you in a very few words. He is an ignorant bull-head, and no more fit to be Mayor of the city than a lamp-post. He might do for sweeper in the office, but that’s all. Before he was elected Mayor, he was a useful citizen in a humble sphere; now he is noted for his severity.”
Right in the midst of this conversation, the Mayor himself made his appearance at the cell door.
“So, ho!” he said, “I’ve got you now!”
“The h— you have!” answered Ben.
“Yes, sir, I’ve got you!” repeated the Mayor, swelling with official dignity; “and I mean to make it very warm for you.”
“What have I ever done,” asked Ben, “that you should seek to persecute me in this manner? Have I ever been drunk or disorderly?”
“No,” interrupted the Mayor; “you’re a good deal too sharp to get drunk.”
“Then I should like to know what I have done to justify my being locked up. The only harm I have done in Pittsburg is the harm I have done myself by spending fifty thousand dollars, more or less, at your faro banks and bar-rooms. If I had the money back now, you can rest assured that I wouldn’t put it in circulation in this town.”