Yes,' says he, looking
at the clock, 'he's been there these ten minutes.'
"But seeing my poor wife's distracted histarricle state, this
good-naterd man says, 'I think, my dear, there's a way to ease your
mind. We'll know in five minutes how he is.'
"'Sir,' says she, 'don't make sport of me.'
"'No, my dear, we'll TELEGRAPH him.'
"And he began hopparating on that singlar and ingenus elecktricle
inwention, which aniliates time, and carries intellagence in the
twinkling of a peg-post.
"'I'll ask,' says he, 'for child marked G. W. 273.'
"Back comes the telegraph with the sign, 'All right.'
"'Ask what he's doing, sir,' says my wife, quite amazed. Back comes the
answer in a Jiffy--
"'C. R. Y. I. N. G.'
"This caused all the bystanders to laugh excep my pore Mary Hann, who
pull'd a very sad face.
"The good-naterd feller presently said, 'he'd have another trile;' and
what d'ye think was the answer? I'm blest if it wasn't--
"'P. A. P.'
"He was eating pap! There's for you--there's a rogue for you--there's a
March of Intaleck! Mary Hann smiled now for the fust time. 'He'll sleep
now,' says she. And she sat down with a full hart.
*****
"If hever that good-naterd Shooperintendent comes to London, HE need
never ask for his skore at the 'Wheel of Fortune Otel,' I promise
you--where me and my wife and James Hangelo now is; and where only
yesterday a gent came in and drew this pictur* of us in our bar.
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