"Capital! prime! Ha, ha, ha!" says one.
"First rate! elegant! ha, ha, ha!" shouts another.
"Ha, ha! haw! haw! he, he, he!" roared all the locys.
"Well, gentlemen, let's all throw in a V apiece, to defray expenses; we, you know, of course, must put the whigs through, and we must give them a rouse they won't forget soon. Champagne and turtle, that's the ticket; coach for four out and two in. Ha, ha!—The whigs shall see the elephant!"
Well, the purse was made up, the coach hired, and the two victims, the poor whigs, were carted out under the pretence of a grand aldermanic feast to Harlem, the scene of many a spree and jollification with the city fathers, and other bon vivants and gourmands of Gotham.
Dinner fit for an emperor being discussed, sundry bottles of "Sham" were uncorked, and their effervescing contents decanted into the well-fed bodies of the four aldermen. Toasts and songs, wit and humor, filled up the time, until the democrats began to think it was time that one of them slipped out, took the carriage back to the city, leaving the other to fuddle the two whigs, and detain them until affairs at "the Tea Room," City Hall, were settled to the entire satisfaction of the democrats.
"Landlord," says one of the democrats, whom we will call Brown, "landlord, have you any conveyance, horses, wagons, carriages or carts, by which any of my friends could go back to town to-night, if they wish?"
"Oh, yes," says the landlord, "certainly—I can send the gentlemen in if they wish."
"Very well, sir,—they may get very tight before they desire to return—they are men of families, respectable citizens, and I do not wish them, under any circumstances, to leave your house until morning. Whatever the bill is I will foot, provided you deny them any of your means to go in to-night. You understand!"
"Oh! yes, sir—if you request it as a matter of favor, that I shall keep your friends here, I will endeavor to do so—but hadn't you better attend to them yourself?"