We had only to look at each other to madly accept the theory
that mankind was created of dust; but we were not long in disposing of
a large amount of surplus material. And then the supper bell,--welcome
sound! In view of a cherished reputation for veracity, it would not be
wise to state the exact amount of sirloin steak and broiled salmon that
disappeared from mortal vision that night at ten o'clock, or to tell
how the strawberries and boiled lobster were stored safely away by the
A.M.C. We are sworn to secrecy, and although the supper hour was not
passed over in silence then--far from it! it must be now.
No one need suppose that after the experiences of the day the
representative A.M.C's. were fatigued sufficiently to make them willing
to retire at half-past ten. Besides, nightmare has its horrors, and
there was that supper!
It is popularly supposed throughout the country, that Bostonians make an
annual pilgrimage on the seventeenth of June to Bunker Hill, and
devoutly ascend the monument on their hands and knees.
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