_Jim_—Here, Ike, run for your life to the Apothecary, and get me some Camphor and Asafetida. Sam: Bring me a lump of ice, and hold it on my head. My blood rushes with great violence to my brain. Fletch: Just pass the brandy bottle this way once more. O my God, my good brothers, I fear you will be the death of your brother James. I never thought we would come to this. John is nearly seventy years old, and I am on the winter side of sixty, and Wesley is sixty, and Fletcher is nearly sixty, and after a long life of toil, and the preservation of our business honor, and with children and grandchildren soon to fill our places on the field of action, it is now proposed to prostrate ourselves at the feet of a man, who has led a life of infamy from his youth to the present hour, and who has pursued to the grave many a virtuous and timid female, and many a noble merchant, who were so unfortunate as to get in his wicked clutches. O, brothers, I had rather starve, than succumb to Bennett, who has abused us all our days. We can survive our present misfortunes, without disgracing our _Weekly_ with the panegyric of James Gordon Bennett, which will injure our respectable family journal more than we shall realise from our advertisements and all the puffs we can squeeze from Bennett. There’s my private fortune. Take it, and I will gladly return to a one story dwelling, and to utter penury, before I will sacrifice my self-respect, and my honor, to such a monster as James Gordon Bennett. _Jack_—Myself, and Wesley, and Fletcher, have long considered this, and we are unchangeable, as we deem it our only means of salvation. It is incontrovertibly true, that Bennett has the largest circulation of any paper in America, and if he will permit us to advertise, and puff us like Bonner, why, I am willing to make any sacrifice. _Jim_—I perceive the old liar has been as quiet as a mouse about his prodigious circulation, since he had to swear in the Carr libel case, that his circulation was only about 50,000. The old scamp, just prior to his oath, declared that his circulation was nearly 100,000. Once a liar, always a liar, is my motto, and I don’t believe the _Herald’s_ circulation is as large as that of the _Sun_, which is conducted by Moses S. Beach, who is an honest man, and a true Christian, and a meritorious gentleman. _Jack_—Say what you will, Jim.—Wes, and Fletch, and myself are resolved to extend our hands to Bennett in terms of the warmest friendship.