Southern Shield

MISCELLANEOUS.

From the Knoxville Times

HOW TO TELL BAD NEWS.

Scene.—Mr. G's. Room at Oxford.—Enter his father's Steward.

Mr. G. Ha! Jarvis! how are you my old boy? how do things get on at home?

Steward. Bad enough, your honor; the magpie's dead.

Mr. G. Poor Mag! so he's gone. How came he to die?

Steward. Over-ate himself, sir.

Mr. G. Did he, faith? the greedy dog—why, what did he get that he liked so well?

Steward. Horse flesh, sir; he died of eating horse flesh.

Mr. G. How came he to get so much horse flesh?

Steward. All your father's horses, sir.

Mr. G. What! are they dead too?

Steward. Aye, sir; they died of over work.

Mr. G. And why were they overworked, pray?

Steward. To carry water, sir.

Mr. G. To carry water? and what were they carrying water for?

Steward. Sure, sir, to put out the fire.

Mr. G. Fire! what fire?

Steward. Oh, sir, your father's house is burned down to the ground.

Mr. G. My father's house burned down! and how came it set on fire?

Steward. I think, sir, it must have been the torches.

Mr. G. Torches! what torches?

Steward. At your mother's funeral.

Mr. G. My mother dead!

Steward. Ah, poor lady, she never looked up after it.

Mr. G. After what?

Steward. The loss of your father.

Mr. G. My father gone too!

Steward. Yes, poor gentleman, he took his bed as soon as he heard of it.

Mr. G. Heard of what?

Steward. The bad news, sir, and please your honor.

Mr. G. What! more miseries? more bad news?

Steward. Yes sir; your bank has failed, and your credit is lost, and you are not worth a shilling in the world. I made bold sir, to come to wait on you about, for I thought you would like to hear the news!