"Think of what?"
"No, sir, not of what," said he—said Joseph K. Miller, Esq. getting very angry, "not of what at all; but of that absurd, nefarious, and superfluous piece of autographical rascality therein—that is to say in the London Athenæum—deliberately, falsely, and maliciously fathered upon me, and laid to my charge—to the charge of me, I say, Joseph L. Miller." Here, Mr. M. arose, and, unbuttoning his coat in a great rage, took from his breast pocket a bundle of MSS. and laid them emphatically upon the table.
"Ah ha!" said we, getting particularly nervous, "we begin to understand you. We comprehend. Sit down! You, Joseph M.—that is to say, Joseph N. Miller—have had—that is to say, ought to have had, eh?—and the London Athenæum is—that is to say, it is not, &c.—and—and—and—oh, precisely!"
"My dear sir," said Mr. Miller, affectionately, "you are a fool—a confounded fool. Hold your tongue! This is the state of the case. I, Joseph O. Miller, being smitten, as all the world knows, with a passion for autographs, am supposed, in that detestable article to which I am alluding, and which appeared some time ago in the London Athenæum,—am supposed, I say, to have indited sundry epistles, to several and sundry characters of literary notoriety about London, with the sinister design, hope, and intention, of thereby eliciting autograph replies—the said epistles, presumed to be indited by me, each and individually being neither more nor less than one and the same thing, and consisting——"
"Yes sir," said we, "and consisting——"
"And consisting," resumed Mr. Joseph P. Miller, "of certain silly inquiries respecting the character of certain ——"
"Of certain cooks, scullions, and chambermaids," said we, having now some faint recollection of the article alluded to.
"Precisely," said our visiter—"of certain cooks, scullions, chambermaids, and boot-blacks."
"And concerning whose character you are supposed to be excessively anxious."
"Yes, sir—I—excessively anxious!—only think of that!—I, Joseph Q. Miller, excessively anxious!"