an adjournment till the following day, when the further discussion could
be carried on with Bowie-knives and pistols; this proposition was at once
acceded to with immense delight by all parties. If well enough (as I have
two broken ribs, my share of the row) I will forward you an authentic
statement of this interesting proceeding.

* * * * *


EPITAPH ON A CANDLE.

A _wicked_ one lies buried here,
Who died in a _decline_;
He never rose in rank, I fear,
Though he was born to _shine_.

He once was _fat_, but now, indeed,
He's thin as any griever;
He died,--the Doctors all agreed,
Of a most _burning_ fever.

One thing of him is said with truth,
With which I'm much amused;
It is--That when he stood, forsooth,
A _stick_ he always used.

Now _winding-sheets_ he sometimes made,
But this was not enough,
For finding it a poorish trade,
He also dealt in _snuff_.