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Page 71
"Smith!" said she, in reply to my very earnest inquiry; "Smith!
- why, not General John A. B. C.? Bless me, I thought you _knew_
all about _him!_ This is a wonderfully inventive age! Horrid
affair that! - a bloody set of wretches, those Kickapoos! -
fought like a hero - prodigies of valor - immortal renown. Smith!
- Brevet Brigadier General John A. B. C.! why, you know he's the
man" ---
"Man," here broke in Doctor Drummummupp, at the top of his voice,
and with a thump that came near knocking the pulpit about our ears;
"man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live; he
cometh up and is cut down like a flower!" I started to the extremity
of the pew, and perceived by the animated looks of the divine, that
the wrath which had nearly proved fatal to the pulpit had been
excited by the whispers of the lady and myself. There was no help
for it; so I submitted with a good grace, and listened, in all the
martyrdom of dignified silence, to the balance of that very capital
discourse.
Next evening found me a somewhat late visitor at the Rantipole
theatre, where I felt sure of satisfying my curiosity at once, by
merely stepping into the box of those exquisite specimens of
affability and omniscience, the Misses Arabella and Miranda
Cognoscenti. That fine tragedian, Climax, was doing Iago to a very
crowded house, and I experienced some little difficulty in making my
wishes understood; especially, as our box was next the slips, and
completely overlooked the stage.
"Smith?" said Miss Arabella, as she at length comprehended the
purport of my query; "Smith? - why, not General John A. B. C.?"
"Smith?" inquired Miranda, musingly. "God bless me, did you
ever behold a finer figure?"
"Never, madam, but _do_ tell me" ---
"Or so inimitable grace?"
"Never, upon my word! - But pray inform me" ---
"Or so just an appreciation of stage effect?"
"Madam!"
"Or a more delicate sense of the true beauties of Shakespeare?
Be so good as to look at that leg!"
"The devil!" and I turned again to her sister.
"Smith?" said she, "why, not General John A. B. C.? Horrid
affair that, wasn't it? - great wretches, those Bugaboos - savage
and so on - but we live in a wonderfully inventive age! - Smith!
- O yes! great man! - perfect desperado - immortal renown -
prodigies of valor! _Never heard!_" [This was given in a scream.]
"Bless my soul! why, he's the man" ---
"----- mandragora
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou owd'st yesterday!"
here roared our Climax just in my ear, and shaking his fist in my
face all the time, in a way that I _couldn't_ stand, and I
_wouldn't_. I left the Misses Cognoscenti immediately, went behind
the scenes forthwith, and gave the beggarly scoundrel such a
thrashing as I trust he will remember to the day of his death.
At the _soir�e_ of the lovely widow, Mrs. Kathleen O'Trump, I was
confident that I should meet with no similar disappointment.
Accordingly, I was no sooner seated at the card-table, with my pretty
hostess for a _vis-�-vis_, than I propounded those questions the
solution of which had become a matter so essential to my peace.
"Smith?" said my partner, "why, not General John A. B. C.?
Horrid affair that, wasn't it? - diamonds, did you say? -
terrible wretches those Kickapoos! - we are playing _whist_, if
you please, Mr. Tattle - however, this is the age of invention, most
certainly _the_ age, one may say - _the_ age _par excellence_ -
speak French? - oh, quite a hero - perfect desperado! - _no
hearts_, Mr. Tattle? I don't believe it! - immortal renown and
all that! - prodigies of valor! _Never heard!!_ - why, bless
me, he's the man" ---
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