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48
PHANTASMAGORIA.
"Not Tibbs!" he cried—his tone became
A shade or two less hearty—
"Why, no," said I: "my proper name
Is Tibbets—" "Tibbets?" "Aye, the same."
"Why, then you're not the party!"
With that he struck the board a blow
That shivered half the glasses;
"Why couldn't you have told me so
Three quarters of an hour ago?
You king of all the asses!
"To walk four miles through mud and rain,
To spend the night in smoking,
And then to find that it's in vain—
And I've to do it all again—
It's really too provoking!
