"Does Mr. Wilson live here?"

"Who are you?"

"I say, then, is Mr. Wilson living here?"

"I say what do you want? Who the d——l are you?"

"I say that I want to find a Mr. Wilson; and my name is Abernethy."

"Immediately," says Mr. Skey, "off flew the night-cap."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Abernethy; what can I do for you," &c.

"Is there a Mr. Wilson living here; and has he broken his leg?"

"Oh, yes, sir, he is living here; but he is very well, and has not met with anything of the kind."

Abernethy laughed heartily, and ordered the post-boy to drive him home again.