"Umph!" said Job, "lucky, isn't it, that you don't have to carry any samples?"
I'm glad your gout is better, father, it will not pain you so much when I try to—but I know you hate slang.
Your rising son,
P.
P.S. Milligan talks a good deal about me around the office. He said this afternoon he expected that some day I'd discharge him. Thus do coming events cast their shadows before.
LETTER NO. XVIII.