This was Dennis O'Moore's: "_Hymeneal_ .-- Mr.Alfonso St.Vincent and Miss Georgiana Juba's compliments are respectfully offered, and will be happy of Mr.Dennis O'Moore's company on the occasion of the celebration of their nuptials.
Luncheon at twelve on the auspicious day, Saturday -- --" "Oh, botheration! It's six weeks hence," said Dennis.

"Will we be here, I wonder ?" "We'll go if we are." "Poor old Alfonso!" "Well done, Alfonso!" Such were our sentiments, and we expressed them in three polite notes, which the Chinaman instantaneously absorbed into some part of his person, and having put the hand with which he took them to his head and bowed lowly as before, he went away.

And O'Brien, giving one vicious dust with his coat-sleeve of the door-post, which Ah-Fo had contaminated by a passing touch, followed the "heathen thief" to see him safe off the premises.
"That's a strange race, now----" began Alister, but I ran to the window, for Dennis was on the balcony watching for the Chinaman, and remembering the scene on the stelling, I anticipated fun.
"Hi, there! Fe-fo-fum, or whatever it is that they call ye!" Ah-Fo looked up with a smile of delighted recognition, which, as Dennis gave a few preliminary stamps, and began to whistle and shuffle, expanded into such hearty laughter, that he was obliged to sit down to it by the roadside.
"Look here, Dennis," said our host; "we shall have a crowd collecting if you go on with this tomfoolery.

Send him off." "All right, old fellow.

Beg your pardon.