“'The same thing, Gorman O'Shea. I remember it now. Your appointment will be made out: five hundred a year, and a retiring pension after six years; house, and an allowance for monkeys.'
“'A what?' asked I.
“'The place is much infested with a large species of oorang-outang, and the governor gives so much per head for destroying them. Mr. Simpson, in the office, will give you full information. You are to be at your post by the 1st of August.'
“'Might I make bold to ask where Whackatory is?'
“'Oackatoro, sir,' said he, proudly, 'is the capital of Fighi. I trust I need not say where that is.'
“'By no means,' said I, modestly; and, muttering my thanks for the advancement, I backed out, almost deranged to think that I did n't know where I was going.
“'Where is it? What is it? How much is it, O'Shea?' cried thirty ardent voices, as I entered the club.
“'It's five hundred a year,' said I, 'without counting the monkeys. It's a magistrate's place; but may a gooseberry skin make a nightcap for me if I know where the devil it is!'
“'But you have accepted!' cried they out, all together.
“'I have,' said I. 'I'm to be at Fighi, wherever that is, by the 1st of August. And now,' said I, turning to the fire, and taking up the poker, 'there is nothing for me to do but resign this sacred symbol of my office into the hands of my successor.'