kaman, have you given
directions about the tar?"

"It'll be b'ilin' in about eight minutes," replied my quondam rival,
with a boo-hoo of vulgar laughter.

"Culprit!" said Judge Pyke, looking at me with a truly terrible
expression, "I have myself heard you avow, with insolent audacity,
that you were not a Democrat. Do you not know, Sir, that nothing but
Democrats are allowed to breathe the zephyrs of Louisiana? Silence,
culprit! Not a word! The court cannot be interrupted. I have also heard
you state that the immortal Breckenridge, Kentucky's favorite son,
was the same to you as the tiger Lincoln, the deadly foe of Southern
institutions. Silence, culprit!"

Here Saccharissa moaned, and wafted a slight flavor of musk to me from
her cambric wet with tears.

"Colonel Plickaman," continued the Judge, "produce the letters and
papers of the culprit."

I am aware that a rival has rights, and that a defeated suitor may,
according to the code, calumniate and slander the more fortunate one. I
have done so myself. But it seems to me that there should be limits; and
I cannot but think that Mr. Mellasys Plickaman overstepped the limits
of fair play, when he took advantage of my last night's inebriety
to possess himself of my journal and letters. I will not, however,
absolutely commit myself on this point. Perhaps everything is fair in
love. Perhaps I may desire to avail myself of the same privilege in
future.

I had spoken quite freely in my journal of the barbarians of Bayou La
Farouche. Each of the gentlemen now acting upon my jury was alluded to.
Colonel Plickaman read each passage in a pointed way, interjecting,--"Do
you hear that, Billy Sangaree?" "How do you like yourself now, Major
Licklickin?" "Here's something about your white cravat, Parson
Butterfut."

The delicacy and wit of my touches of character chafed these gentlemen.
Their aspect became truly formidable.

Meantime I began to perceive an odor which forcibly recalled to me the
asphaltum-kettles of the lively Boulevards of Paris.

"Wait awhile, Fire-Eaters," said Plickaman, "the tar isn't quite ready
yet."

The tar! What had that viscous and unfragrant material to do with the
present interview?

"I won't read you what he says of me," resumed the Colonel.

"Yes,--out with it!" exclaimed all.

Suffice it to say that I had spoken of Mr. Mellasys Plickaman as a
person so very ill-dressed, so very lavish in expectoration, so entirely
destitute of the arts