“Can you read the motto on the Conductor’s button?” I demanded. “No;” he replied, “but I think nothing would be more appropriate to his calling than the monkish phrase—’pro omnibus curo!’”
At this juncture a jolt, followed by a crash, announced that we had lost a wheel. The Dowager shrieked. “We shall all be killed,” cried she; “On’y to think of meeting vun’s death in a common omnibus!”
“Mors communis omnibus!” whispered B___d, and----
I had written thus far, when spit—spit—splutter—plop!—my end of candle slipped into the blacking bottle in which it was “sustained,” and I was left to admire—the stars of night, and to observe that “Charles’s wain was over the chimney;” so I threw down my pen—and, as the house was a-bed—and I am naturally of a “retiring” disposition, I sought my pallet—dreaming of literary fame!—although, in the matter of what might be in store for me, I was completely in the dark!
AN INTERCEPTED LETTER FROM DICK SLAMMER TO HIS FRIEND SAM FLYKE.
eppin-toosday
my dear sam
i’ve rote this ere for to let you no i’m in jolly good health and harty as a brick—and hope my tulip as your as vell——read this to sal who can’t do the same herself seeing as her edication aintt bin in that line ——give her my love and tell her to take care o’ the kids.——i’ve got a silk vipe for sal, tell her; and suffing for ’em all, for i’ve made a xlent spec o’ the woy’ge and bagg’d some tin too i can tell you; and vont ve have a blow out ven i cums amung you——napps——that’s the ass——is particklar vell and as dun his dooty like a riq’lar flint——
i rode too races ar’ needn’t say as i vun em for napps is a houtanhouter an no mistake!
lork! didn’t i make the natifs stare! and a gintlum as vos by, vanted to oan ’im an oferd any blunt for im but walker! says i there aint sick a ass as this ’ere hanimal in the hole country——besides he’s like as vun o’ me oan famly, for i’ve brot im up in a manner from the time he vos a babby!——he’s up to a move or too and knows my voice jist for all the world like a Chrissen.
Red-nose Bill vot had a nook ’em down here brings this and he’ll tell you all about the noose——i shall foller in about, a veek or so——tell sal to keep up her sperrits and not to lush vith Bet——i dont like that ere ooman at all——a idle wagabone as is going to the Union like vinkin——i’m no temperens cove meself as you nose, sam, but enufs enuf and as good as a feast.
The gintry as taken hervite a likin to Napps and me——they looks upon im as hervite a projidy——for he’s licked all the donkies as run agin im——the vimmen too——(you no my insinnivating vay, sam,) and nobody nose better than me how to git the right sow by the ear——no sooner do i see ’em a comin vith their kids, than i slips of and doffs my tile, an i says, says i——do let the yung jentlum have a cast——and then the little in coorse begins a plegyin the old ’uns, and——so the jobs done!