"Will you go home, Sarah Mennear, and be humble, and ask her pardon ?" "Will I sclum her eyes out, ye mane!" cried Sarah, fairly dancing.
"Go home, foolish wife!" The Mayor was not smiling now, and his voice took on a terrible sternness.

"The woman I mean is the woman John Mennear married, or thought he married; the woman that aforetime had kept her own counsel though he caught and kissed her in a dimmety corner of the street; the woman that swore to love, honour and obey him, not she that tongue-drove him to the 'King of Prussia,' with his own good liquor to keep him easy at home.

Drunk he must have been to mistake the one for t'other; and I'm willing to fine him for drunkenness.

But cite that other woman here before you ask me for a separation order, and I'll grant it; and I'll warrant when John sees you side by side, he won't oppose it." Here and there our Mayor had his detractors, no doubt.

What public man has not?
He incurred the reproach of pride, for instance, when he appeared, one wet day, carrying an umbrella, the first ever seen in Troy.