Villiam Brown gave the speaker a piercing look, my boy, and says he:
"Impostor! beware how you insult the United States of America. I fathom your falsehood," says he, "by my knowledge of Matthew Maticks. You say that two chivalries pitched into you, and you knocked them both over. Now Matthew Maticks distinctly says that two into one goes no times, and nothing over. Speaker of the House, remove this leftenant to the donjon keep. He's Ananias Number 2."
The officer from Philadelphia being removed to the guard-house, where there is weeping and wailing, and picking of teeth, another leftenant stepped forward:
"I deal in technicalities," says he, "and can post you in law."
"Ha!" says Villiam, softly sipping the Oath, "then I will try you with an abstract question, my beautiful Belvideary. Supposing Mason and Slidell were your friends, how would you work it to get them out of Fort Warren?"
"Why," said the leftenant, pleasantly, "I'd sue out a writ of Habeas Jackass, and get the New York Herald to advise the Government not to let them out."
"Yes," says Villiam, meditatively, "that would be sure to do it. I'll use you to help me get up my Proclamation."
"And now," says Villiam, dropping a lump of sugar into the Oath, and stirring it with a comb, "who is that air melancholy chap with a tall hat on, who looks like Hamlet with a panic?"
The melancholy chap came to the front, shook his long locks like Banquo, and says he:
"I'm the Press. I'm the Palladium of our Liberties—