ings since, in front of the _Blade_
office, and after the usual formalities of greeting, says the doctor--

"What you tink, sah, oh dat Lobes question, what dey's makin' sich a
debbil ob a talk about in de papers?"

"Well," dignifiedly answered the professor of polish-on boots, "it's my
'ticular opinion, sah, dat dat Lopes got into de wrong pew, brudder
Gumbo, when he went down to Cuber for his healf!"

"Pshaw! sah, I'se talkin' about de gwynna (guano) question, I is."

"Well, doctor," said the professor, "I'se not posted up on de goanna
question, no how; but, when you comes to de Cuber, or de best mode ob
applyin' de principle ob liquid blackin' to de rale fuss-rate calfskin,
_I'se dar!_"

"O! oh!" grunts Gumbo; "professor, you'se great on de natural principles
ob de chemical skyence, I see; but lord honey, I doos pity your
ignorance on jography questions. So, take care ob yourself, ole
nigger--yaw! yaw!" and they parted with the formality of two Websters,
and half a dozen common-sized dignitaries of the nation thrown in.

How it's Done at the Astor House.

People often wonder how a man can manage to drink up his salary in
liquor, provided it is sufficient to buy a gallon of the very best
ardent every day in the year. How a fortune can be drank up, or drank
down, by the possessor, is still a greater poser to the unsophisticated.
Now, to be sure, a man who confines himself, in his potations, to
fourpenny drinks of small beer, Columbian whiskey, or even that
detestable stuff, by courtesy or custom called _French brandy_,--which,
in fact, is generally aquafortis, corrosive sublimate, cochineal,
logwood, and whiskey,--and don't happen to know too many drouthy
cronies, may make a very long lane of it; but it's the easiest thing in
the world to swallow a snug salary, income, mortgages, live stock, and
real estate, when you know how it's done.

Managing a theatre, publishing a newspaper, or keeping trained dogs or
trotting horses, don't hardly begin to phlebotomize purse and
reputation, like drinking.

"Doctor," said a gay Southern blood, to a famed "tooth doctor," "look
into my mouth."

"I can't see any thing there, sir," says the tooth puller.

"Can't? Well, that's deuced strange. Why, sir, look again; you see
nothing!"

"Nothing, sir!"

"Why, sir," says the young planter, "it's most astonishing, for I've
just finished swallowing--_three hundred negroes and two cotton
plantations!_"

Four young bu