"I don't pretend to have your advantages, Mr. DROOD, and
I've scarcely had any more education than an American Humorist; but
where I come from, if a carpet-bagger should talk as you do, the cost of
his funeral would be but a trifle."
"I can prepare you, at shortest notice, for something very neat and
tasteful in the silver-trimmed rosewood line, with plated handles,
dark-complexioned Ku-klux," returns Mr. DROOD, preparing to pull off his
coat.
"Who would have believed," soliloquizes MONTGOMERY PENDRAGON, "that even
a scalawag Northern spoon-thief, like our scurrilous contemporary, would
get so mad at being reminded that he must be married some day!"
"Whoever says that I'm mad," is the answer, "lies deliberately wilfully,
wickedly, with naked intent to defame and malign."
But here a heavy hand suddenly smites EDWIN in the back, almost snapping
his head off, and there stands spectrally between them Mr. BUMSTEAD, who
has but recently found his way out of the back-yard in Gospeler's Gulch,
by removing at least two yards of picket fence from the wrong place, and
wears upon his head a gingham sun-bonnet, which, in his hurried
departure through the hall of the Gospeler's house, he has mistaken for
his own hat.
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