pposed from my likeness to him that
I was D. WEBSTER.

I couldent blame 'em for makin such a mistake, when I reccolected the
time I was introjuced to the great man. It was when I was Gustise of the
Peace.

As our hands clasped each other, we was both revitted to the spot, and
the rivets was clinched tite.

"What! it can't be possible!" said Mr. WEBSTER, the first to break the
silence. "Well if you haint another WEBSTER, you'l pass for D. WEBSTER'S
bust, any day."

"And," said I, wishin to return the compliment, "if you haint _Green_,
you can pass any time for GREEN on a bust."

This was one of my witcisms, and it made DANIEL blurt with lafter.

But, Mister PUNCHINELLO, me and WEBSTER looked so much alike, that if
his tailor had sent him a soot of clothes at that time, I believe, in
the confusion, that just as like as not, I should have thought I was
WEBSTER, and wore off the clothes.

But, to "retrace my tale," as the canine said, when a flee was suckin
the heart's blood from his cordil appendige--

"Well, my friends," said I, humerin these men in their mistake, "what
can I do for you down to Washington?"

"Do for us? thou great and mitey!" said they all to once, "keep us into
offis--we 'go' _you_, Nov. 8th."

"Well," said I, "my good men, my word is law down to Washington.
Everybody respects the great DANIL WEBSTER."

"Eh!--who--what," exclaimed several.

"I say that I, DANIL WEBSTER, is great guns with the goverment," was my
reply.

"DANIEL WEBSTER be d--d," said the ring-leader. "No, Sir! ED WEBSTER,
the nominee for Congress, and Wet Nurse _pro tem._ over Unkle Sam's
family in this 'ere _nursery_, is the man we're after. Haint you that
man?"

"You don't mean the chap who was U.S. Assessor, agin whom I heard them
Wall street brokers and scalpers cussin and swearin like a lot of Rocky
Mountin savages chock full of fluid pirotecknicks, because he made them
pay a goverment tax?"

"The same! the same!" they all hollered.

"Well! sweet wooers of the bread and butter brigade," said I, "speakin
after the manner of men, you've got ontop the rong hencoop this time. As
Shakspeer, who is now dead and gone, says:--

'A rose by any other name
Is sweeter-er than I,
I've diskivered I haint the _game_
You want to see roost high.'"

They left me, yes, they left me. I wasent the man, but some awdacious
retch had sot 'em on tellin 'em I was _the_ man.

Surgeon GOODBLOOD, of the man o' war _Ver