"An' do ye take me for a fool, BARNEY RYAN, that I'd be afther lettin' ye do the like o' that?"
"Moind yersilves there!" "Howld yer tongues!" "May the divil ate yez! but the best of yez hashn't the manners of a pig!" Amid such pleasant ebullitions of Celtic amiability, PUNCHINELLO succeeded in carving his way to the door, when it suddenly opened, and a tall, lean, cadaverous man, who looked like the ghost of some Fenian leader, bawled at the top of his voice:
"Go an out o' this, all of yiz; Mr. TWADE won't see another of yiz this blissid day."
It seemed as though the crowd had only been waiting for this signal; for they gave one wild shout, and rushed through the open portal like a pent-up stream breaking its dam.
PUNCHINELLO felt himself lifted from his feet and whirled along with the current. Resistance was useless; but being in the van, he was the first to alight upon the middle of a table covered with papers, before which sat, in a large arm-chair, his eyes wide open with astonishment, and his face red with anger, the great Chief of Tammany.
PUNCHINELLO immediately extricated himself from this ridiculous situation by rolling on to the floor, with all the grace peculiar to him. Then, instantly rising, he grasped "Big Six" by the hand, exclaiming:
"Beg ten thousand pardons, sir, but it wasn't PUNCHINELLO'S motion that he should be laid upon the table."
"No, be Jabers," ejaculated an excited member of the throng; "but it's me, MOIKE FINNEY, that wud lay ye under it!"
"Will you hold your tongue!" shouted Big Six.
"I axes yer Honor's pardon, but be the sowl of me I couldn't help it, with that 'ere spalpeen sprawlin' ferninst me there among yer Honor's papers."