"I vow you've sort of got me this time, brother Jack; but I'll find out, soon, and let you know."
"Do, if you please, Peter, and let us hear an account of how things are working after the first quarter's experience."
Perriwinkle opened with a neat supper party. We attended, and every thing looked cap-a-pie; new, tasteful and happy as any thing human under God's providence and the art and judgment of man could promise. At midnight the company dispersed, all wishing the Perriwinkles life, love, and lots of the small fry.
Months passed, full three; we met our old and familiar friend, Peter Perriwinkle, and as we had not seen him for some time, we met with greetings most cordial.
"How is every thing, old boy—paradise regained?"
"Ah," said Peter, with an ominous shake of the head, "dear Jack,—we've a great deal to learn in this world, and as our old friend Sam Veller says, whether its worth while to pay so much to learn so little, at cost—is a question."
"You begin to think so, eh?"
"Things don't work quite so smooth as I expected—I've moved!"
"What? Not so soon?"
"Yes, sir," said Perriwinkle; "that house was a nuisance!"