"And Doctor Duncan."
"You don't tell me all them fellows are here?"
"Yes, sir, your friends are all here. Come in and see them; your friends will be delighted," says the wag, taking Mister Ferguson by the arm, to lead him in.
"Ha, ha! I'm a—a—ha, ha! won't we have a time? But you just step in—I a—I'll be in in one moment," but in less than half the time, Mr. Ferguson mizzled, no one knew whither!
The gentlemen at the table, it is almost needless to say, were no others than Benton, Allen, Duncan, and some three or four other arbiters of the fate of our immense and glorious nation, in her councils, and fresh from the capital.
Ferguson has not been heard of since.
A Severe Spell of Sickness.
It is the easiest thing under heaven to be sick, if you can afford it. What it costs some rich men for family sickness per annum, would keep all the children in "a poor neighborhood" in "vittels" and clothes the year round. When old Cauliflower took sick, once in a long life-time, he was prevailed upon to send for Dr. Borax, and it was some weeks before Cauliflower got down stairs again. At the end of the year Dr. Borax sent in his bill; the amount gave Cauliflower spasms in his pocket-book, and threatened a whole year's profits with strangulation.
"Doctor," says Cauliflower, "that bill of yours is all-fired steep, isn't it?"