A BRACE OF JACK-ALLS.
Jack. Well Bob, this business works well yet, I have pocketed five hundred dollars, to day.
Bob. Yes, Jack, sure, and it works well at present; but, upon me soul, I don’t see the end of it, and if we were exposed, we should make a dangling appearance, if we were even in the ould country.
Jack. Never fear, Bobby—a man never dangles here, as long as he has got money; and besides, the dogs dare not whisper a word; their lives depend on their credit, as the only means of supporting them, and they would be cut up like mutton-chops in the market, the moment they lisped their own secret.—We are safe.
Bob. Troth Jack, you’re always awake, but I’ve gone so deeply already, that I couldn’t pay a draft to day from the Secretary at Washington, an’ if it were not for that brother of mine, with the Scotch christian name, who is busy at Washington, hang me if I think I could stand this.
Jack. Mr. Cashier, excuse my departure from our usual friendly familiarity, but, depend upon it, the authorities of the country will never oppress, in their individual circumstances, those who are legitimately engaged in support of their authority.
HOPES AND COMPLIMENTS.
Bob. Arragh, Jack! and you’re complimentary—but the marquis cares nothing about your ragamuffin authorities.
Jack. No Bobby, true, but he cares about your dividends, and that is what you are to take care of.
Bob. Sure and I’ll take care of that, by the faith of me, and how much shall we make, Jack, by this management?