"Well, but I've an invitation, sir, from Miss Lind, to call at 9 A. M. to-day. I like to be punctual, sir; my time is quite precious; I called precisely as desired; Miss Lind appointed the time; and----" "Oh, very well, very well, ma'am," said the _clark_, with a flourish, "if Miss Lind has invited you----" "Why, of course she has! Here's her--" "O, never mind, ma'am; all correct, I presume." The "pipes" and bells soon had the attendance of a gang of white-jacketed, polish-faced Paddies, and the elderly lady was marshalled, double-file, towards the apartments of the Nightingale. Jenny had but just "turned out," and was "feeding" on the right wing and left breast of a lark, the leg of a canary, "a dozen fried" humming bird eggs--her customary fodder of a morning. The servants passed the countersigns, and the elderly lady was admitted--the Nightingale, without disturbing the ample folds of her camel's hair dressing-gown--a present from the Sultan of all the Turkies, cost $3,000--motioned the matron to squat, and as soon as she got her throat in talking order, said-- "Goot mornins." "How do you do?" responds the old lady. "Pooty well, tank'ees. You have some breakest? No!" "No, ma'am. I've had my breakfast three hours ago." "Yes? indeed! you rise up early, eh?--Well, it is goot for ze hels, eh?" "So my doctor says," responded the matron. "But I like to get up and be stirring around." "Ah! yes; you stir around, eh? What you stir around?" "Well, Miss Lind, I'll tell you what I stir around. I-stir-the-monsters (Miss Lind looks sharp) who-try-to-trample-on-the-universal-rights-_of-woman!_ (The matron 'up' and gesticulating like the brakes of an engine--Miss Lind drops her eating tools--eyes of the two servants bulge out!) A-n-d I-stir-the-demagogues-who-assemble-in-Faneuil-Hall (down with the brakes!), to prevent-the-freedom-of-speech (rush upon the brakes!), a-a-n-d-put-me-down!" It was evident that the appetite of the Nightingale was getting spoiled--she looked suspicious, and, just in time to prevent the female orator--who was no other personage, of course, than Aunt Nabby Folsom, from ripping into a regular caucus fanfaronade of gamboge and gas, a knock upon the door announced a "call" for Miss Lind, to dress and appear to a fresh lot of bores--yclept the Mayor and his suit of Deacons, soup, pork and bean-venders. "Ah! yes; I will be ready in one min't. Madame, you will please come again; once more, adieu--good mornins--adieu!" And Aunt Nabby, in spite of her ancient teeth, found herself bowed--half way down stairs--into the hall, and clean out doors, before she caught her breath to say another word upon the interminable subject of the freedom of speech and woman's rights!