"Sincerely,

"P. MCFINIGAN.

"P. S. Do preachers warrant their burials?"


"DEAR MR. PUNCHINELLO:--You were so good as to prescribe a hot pitch
plaster for the baby's mouth. Next day I took the prescription to your
office, but failed to get it made up, as the devil, they told me, was
busy. Will you please inform me when you will be at leisure? Meanwhile
baby yells.

"Yours truly,

"C. PUGSBY.

"P.S. _Later_. Mrs. PUGSBY says if I apply that plaster she will go
insane. True, she does not understand fire-arms, but then I should be
afraid to drink any coffee for a month. In the meantime, if the baby
keeps on, I shall go crazy myself; so there is likely to be a casualty
somewhere. What's to be done? Shall I bring the child to you?

"C. P."


_Answer_. At your peril. Go crazy and shoot it; then we will go crazy
and turn counsel for the defence. The result will probably be that you
are handed over to the ladies to be kissed into reason; but if you would
rather be hung, you must do the shooting over in New-Jersey.