"Oh, it's all right, sir; no doubt of it now, sir," said the mover of the business, grasping the victim's upraised arm.
"Then, of course, sir, you're well acquainted with Matty Van; on good terms with the little Magician," continued the leading wag.
"Me? me on good terms with Matty? Ha, ha! that is a good joke; never go to Washington without cracking a bottle with the little fox, and staying over night with him. Me on good terms with Matty? We've had many a spree together! Yes, sir!" and the knowing one winked right and left.
"Well, there's old Bullion," continued one of the interrogators, a fine portly old gent, "you know him, of course?"
"What, Tom Benton? Bless your souls, I don't know my letters half as well as I know old Tom."
"And Bill Allen, of Ohio?" asked another. "What sort of a fellow is Bill?"
"Bill Allen? Lord O! isn't he a coon? Bill Allen? I wish I had a dime for every horn, and game of bluff, we've had together."
"Well, there's another of 'em," inquiringly asked a fat, farmer-looking old codger: "Dr. Duncan, how's he stand down there about Washington?"
"Oh, well, he's a pretty good sort of an old chap, but, gents, between you and I, (with another whisper,) there is a good deal of the 'old fogie' senna and salts about him. But then he's death and the pale hoss on poker."
"What, Doctor Duncan?" says they.