last sentence, I am going out to-night, in search of the moist and
picturesque, with JOHN MCLAUGHLIN--"

"Who is here," says Father DEAN.

OLD MORTARITY, dinner-kettle in hand and more mortary than ever, indeed
seen approaching them with shuffling gait. Bowing to the Holy Father, he
is about to pass on, when Judge SWEENEY stops him with--

"You must be very careful with your friend, BUMSTEAD, this evening, JOHN
MCLAUGHLIN, and see that he don't fall and break his neck."

"Never you worry about Mr. BUMSTEAD, Judge," growls OLD MORTARITY. "He
can walk further off the perpendicklar without tumbling than any
gentleman I ever see."

"Of course I can, JOHN MCLAUGHLIN," says Mr. BUMSTEAD, checking another
unseemly laugh of Mr. SMYTHE'S with a dreadful frown. "I often practice
walking sideways, for the purpose of developing the muscles on that
side. The left side is always the weaker, and the hip a trifle lower, if
one does not counteract the difference by walking sideways
occasionally."

A great deal of unnecessary coughing, which follows this physiological
exposition, causes Mr. BUMSTEAD to breathe hard at them all for a
moment, and tread with great malignity upon Mr. SMYTHE'S nearest corn.

While yet the sexton is groaning, OLD MORTARITY whispers to the
Ritualistic organist that he will be ready for him at the appointed hour
to-night, and shuffles away. After which Mr. BUMSTEAD, with the I hollow