Ted as te tevil, and ted drunk, and she ain't neither; and if
she were poth she would wake her up with tat tune, barris an tailler,
as she tid Captain Fraisher, tat she will."
"Now," said I, "let us land the moose."
CHAPTER XI.
A DAY ON THE LAKE.--PART II.
Peter's horrid pipes knocked all the romance out of me. It took all
the talk of dear old Minister (whose conversation was often like
poetry without rhyme), till I was of age, to instil it into me. If it
hadn't been for him I should have been a mere practical man, exactly
like our Connecticut folks, who have as much sentiment in them in a
general way as an onion has of otter of roses. It's lucky when it
don't predominate though, for when it does, it spoils the relish for
the real business of life.
Mother, when I was a boy, used to coax me up so everlastingly with
loaf-cake, I declare I got such a sweet tooth, I could hardly eat
plain bread made of flour and corn meal, although it was the
wholesomest of the two. When I used to tell Minister this sometimes,
as he was flying off the handle, like when we travelled through New
York State to Niagara, at the scenery of the Hudson; or Lake George,
or that everlastin' water-fall, he'd say--
"Sam, you are as correct as a problem in Euclid, but as cold and dry.
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