treasure in my possession; I read them all only to be disappointed.
Nor had the companion of my adventure remembered to have my arrival,
with becoming comments, put in all the papers, as he had pledged his
honor to do, having, as he said, an unlimited control over them. I
carefully consulted the columns of the Herald. And though I
discovered in the editor a love for sharpening up his battle-axe,
and making splinters of his fellows at least twice a week, not a
gleam of light was thrown upon the man whose loss I felt it in my
heart would be his ruin. I contemplated the wants and anxieties of
those who sought to make them known therein, and smiled at the
curious manner in which a thousand ambitious individuals expressed
their readiness to supply the wants of others. I turned to the
Tribune. But neither in the gravely-spun philosophy of its
editorials, nor among the pearls of its advertisement columns, could
I find a word to relieve my anxiety. The sages who are supposed by
the knowing ones to jot things down in that very consistent
inconsistent journal, had likewise forgotten to mention my name;
which apparent neglect much discomposed my mind. I was, however,
somewhat relieved by a friend, who informed me that it was in their
true spirit. One of the waiters told me with an air of great wisdom,
that the Tribune never took up military men except to set them down
with bruises. This waiter was a gifted Irishman, and a great
politician. During a sweet little touch of a rebellion, or a famine
(which are about the same) in his country, he had read the Tribune
twice a day to his wife, Biddy Regan, who expressed herself
delighted at the forked lightning style it then kept up in defense
of the rights of her fifty first cousins.

"Eleven o'clock arrived, but no General Fopp came. Anxious to
relieve myself of the treasure, I approached the highly perfumed and