"Isn't there some others beside yourself going out, sir?" says the driver, supposing he had the right man, or one of them. "No; drive off--where are you going to drive me?" "Mount Auburn, sir, the carriage was ordered for." "Humph! Some of the _battle-grounds_, I suppose," John grunts to himself, falls into a fit of English doggedness, and the coach drives off. Thomas Johns made little or no noise or confusion in the house, consequently he was not known to the servants, and very little known to the clerks. John Thomas was another person--he was all fuss and feathers. He kept his bell ringing, and the servants rushing for towels and water, water and towels, boots and beer, beer and boots, the English papers, maps of America, &c., without cessation. He was John Thomas and Thomas Johns, one and indivisible. John got his ride, and returned to the hotel sulkier than ever; and by the time he got unrobed of his pea-jackets and huge shawls about his burly neck, he was telegraphed by a servant to come down; there was a gentleman below on business with him. John foreswore business, but the gentleman must see him, and up he came for that purpose. His unmistakable _mug_ told he was "an officer." "I've a bill against you, sir, $368,20. Must be paid immediately!" said the presenter, peremptorily. John was thunderstruck. "Me, and be hanged to ye!" says John, getting his breath. "Yes, sir, for goods packed at Smith & Brown's, for Nova Scotia. The bill was to be paid this morning, as you agreed, but you told the clerk to go to the d--l! Won't do, that sort of work, here. Pay the bill, or you must go with me!" John, when he found himself in custody, swore it was some infernal Yankee scheme to gouge him, and he started for the clerk's office, below, to have some explanation. As John and the officer reached the rotunda, a gentleman steps up behind John, and gives his nose a first-rate _lug_. They clinched, the bystanders and servants interposed, and John and his assailant were parted, and by this time the nose puller discovered he had the wrong man by the nose! "Is your name Thomas Johns?" says the nose puller. "Blast you, no!" "Who pays this bill for the carriage, if your name ain't Johns?" says a man with a bill for the carriage hire. "I allers heard as ow you Yan-gees were inquisitive, and sharp after the dollars, and I'm 'anged if you ain't awful. My name's John Thomas, from Lun'un, bound back again in the next steamer. Now who's got any thing against _me_?" Thomas Johns came in at this climax, an explanation ensued, John was relieved of his embarrassment, and all were finally satisfied, except John Thomas, who, venting a few bottles of his spleen on every body and all things--Americans especially--took to his bed and beer, and snorted for a week. The Yankee in a Boarding School.