"Rough and Ready, sir."
"That's a singular name."
"My right name is Rufus; but that's what the boys call me."
"Ah, yes, indeed. Well, my lad, I hope you will continue to cherish sound political sentiments until the constitution gives you the right to vote."
"Yes, sir, thank you.—Have a paper, sir?"
The clergyman moved off, and Rough and Ready addressed his next remark to a sallow-complexioned man, with a flashing black eye, and an immense flapping wide-awake hat.
"Paper, sir? Here's the 'World'!"
"Give me a copy. What's that,—the 'Tribune'! None of your Black Republican papers for me Greeley's got nigger on the brain. Do you sell many 'Tribunes'?"
"Only a few, sir. The 'World''s the paper! I only carry the 'Tribune' to accommodate a few customers."
"I wouldn't have anything to do with it." And the admirer of the "World" passed on.