"I mean the terrestrial globe, sir," says Mr. BUMSTEAD, irritably.
"The great spherical foundation, sir, upon which Boston has since been
built."

"Ah, I see," says Judge SWEENEY, genially, "I believe, though, that I
know that world, also, pretty well; for, if I have not exactly been to
foreign countries, foreign countries have come to me. They have come to
me on--hem!--business, and I have improved my opportunities. A man comes
to me from a vessel, and I say 'Cork,' and give him Naturalization
Certificates for himself and his friends. Another comes, and I say
'Dublin;' another, and I say 'Belfast.' If I want to travel still
further, I take them all together and say 'the Polls.'"

"You'll do to travel, sir," responds Mr. BUMSTEAD, abstractedly helping
himself to some more lemon tea; "but I thought we were to talk about the
late Mrs. SWEENEY."

"We were, sir," says Judge SWEENEY, abstractedly removing the bowl to a
sideboard on his farther side. "My late wife, young man, as you may be
aware, was a Miss HAGGERTY, and was imbued with homage to Shape. It was
rumored, sir, that she admired me for my Manly Shape. When I offered to
make her my bride, the only words she could articulate were, "O, my!
_I_?"--meaning that she could scarcely believe that I really meant
_her_. After which she fell into strong hysterics. We were married,
despite certain objections on the score of temperance by that corrupt
Radical, her father. From looking up to me too much she contracted an
affection of the spine, and died about nine months ago. Now, sir, be
good enough to run your eye over this Epitaph, which I have composed for
the monument now erecting to her memory."