Mr. H and the Steward.

Mr. H.: HA! Steward, how are you, my old boy? How do things go on at home?
Steward: Bad enough, your honor; the magpie's dead.
H.: Poor Mag! So he's gone. How came he to die?
S.: Overheat himself, sir.
H.: Did he? A greedy dog; why what did he get he liked so well?
S.: Horse-flesh sir; he died of eating horse flesh.
H.: How came he to get so much horse-flesh?
S.: All your fathers horses sir.
H.: What! are they dead too?
S.: Ay sir; they died of overwork.
H.: And why were they overworked, pray?
S.: To carry water, sir.
H.: To carry water! and what were they carrying water for?
S.: Sure, sir, to put out the fire.
H.: Fire! what fire?
S.: O, sir, your father's house is burned to the ground.
H.: My father's house burned down! and how came it set on fire?
S.: I think, sir, it must have been the torches.
H.: Torches! what torches?
S.: At your mother's funeral.
H.: My mother dead!
S.: Ah, poor lady! she never looked up, after it.
H.: After what?
S.: The loss of your father.
H.: My father gone, too?
S.: Yes, poor gentleman! he took to his bed as soon as he heard of it.
H.: Heard of what?
S.: The bad news, sir, and please your honor.
H.: What! more miseries! more bad news!
S.: 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 wait on you about it, for i thought you would like to hear the news.