"Well, go on! what you waitin' for?"
"Therefore, when I saw Arabella's bandbox in the entry, as I came down, sitting, as it did, directly at the foot of the stairs, I jumped on it, thinking I would come over it that time—"
"An' crushed a new spring bonnet, that cost-let me see!"
"No matter!" said Mr. McKenzie; "that will be in the bill."
Mr. McKenzie, having said thus much, placed his hat on his head and rushed from the house, fearful of another onslaught of "oncommon oncivilities."
A little shop at the North End,—seven men seated round said shop,—a small dog growling at a large cat, a large cat making a noise resembling that produced by root-beer confined in a stone bottle by a cork bound down with a piece of twine. Reader, imagine you see and hear all this!
[Enter Mr. McKenzie.] "Gentlemen, something must be done to demolish the idea held by the 'rest of mankind' that they, the women, cannot exist without owning as personal property an indefinite number of bandboxes. I therefore propose that we at once organize for the purpose; that a committee be appointed to draft resolutions, and report a name for the confederacy."
Voted unanimously; whereupon, a committee being appointed, after a short session, reported the following "whereas, etc."
"Whereas, WE, in our perambulations up and down the earth, are frequently, oftentimes, and most always, beset with annoyances of various kinds; and, as the greatest, most perplexing, most troublesome and iniquitous of these, generally assumes the shape of a bandbox, in a bag or out of one; and, whereas, our wives, our daughters, our sisters, and our female acquaintances generally and particularly, manifest a determination to put said boxes in our way, at all times, and under all circumstances, therefore
"Resolved, That-we-wont-stand-it-any-longer!!!