Thus seated, I congratulated
myself, and with much reason, upon the very flattering state of
affairs. If any person knew any thing about Brevet Brigadier General
John A. B. C. Smith, that person it was clear to me, was Miss
Tabitha T. We telegraphed a few signals and then commenced, soto voce,
a brisk tete-a-tete.
"Smith!" said she in reply to my very earnest inquiry: "Smith!- why,
not General John A. B. C.? Bless me, I thought you knew all about him!
This is a wonderfully inventive age! Horrid affair that!- a bloody set
of wretches, those Kickapoos!- fought like a hero- prodigies of valor-
immortal renown. Smith!- Brevet Brigadier General John A. B. C.!
Why, you know he's the man-
"Man," here broke in Doctor Drummummupp, at the top of his voice,
and with a thump that came near knocking the pulpit about our ears;
"man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live; he
cometh up and is cut down like a flower!" I started to the extremity
of the pew, and perceived by the animated looks of the divine, that
the wrath which had nearly proved fatal to the pulpit had been excited
by the whispers of the lady and myself. There was no help for it; so I
submitted with a good grace, and listened, in all the martyrdom of
dignified silence, to the balance of that very capital discourse.
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