CRUTCH, THE PAGE.
I.—CHIPS.
The Honorable Jeems Bee, of Texas, sitting in his committee-room half an hour before the convening of Congress, waiting for his negro familiar to compound a julep, was suddenly confronted by a small boy on crutches.
"A letter!" exclaimed Mr. Bee, "with the frank of Reybold on it—that Yankeest of Pennsylvania Whigs! Yer's familiarity! Wants me to appoint one U—U—U, what?"
"Uriel Basil," said the small boy on crutches, with a clear, bold, but rather sensitive voice.
"Uriel Basil, a page in the House of Representatives, bein' an infirm, deservin' boy, willin' to work to support his mother. Infirm boy wants to be a page, on the recommendation of a Whig, to a Dimmycratic committee. I say, gen'lemen, what do you think of that, heigh?"
This last addressed to some other members of the committee, who had meantime entered.
"Infum boy will make a spry page," said the Hon. Box Izard, of Arkansaw.
"Harder to get infum page than the Speaker's eye," said the orator, Pontotoc Bibb, of Georgia.
"Harder to get both than a 'pintment in these crowded times on a opposition recommendation when all ole Virginny is yaw to be tuk care of," said Hon. Fitzchew Smy, of the Old Dominion.