Well, they almost hissed me, and the
sour virgins who bottled up all their humanity to pour out on the
niggers, actilly pointed at me, and called me a Yankee Pussyite. I had
some capital stories to excite 'em with, but I didn't think they were
worth the powder and shot. It takes a great many strange people,
Cutler," sais I, "to make a world. I used to like to put the leak into
folks wunst, but I have given it up in disgust now."
"Why?" sais he.
"Because," sais I, "if you put a leak into a cask that hain't got much
in it, the grounds and settlin's won't pay for the trouble. Our people
talk a great deal of nonsense about emancipation, but they know it's
all bunkum, and it serves to palmeteer on, and makes a pretty party
catch-word. But in England, it appears to me, they always like what
they don't understand, as niggers do Latin and Greek quotations in
sermons. But here is Sorrow. I suppose tea is ready, as the old ladies
say. Come, old boy," sais I to Cutler, "shake hands; we have the same
object in view, but sometimes we travel by different trains, that's
all. Come, let us go below. Ah, Sorrow," sais I, "something smells
good here; is it a moose steak? Take off that dish-cover."
"Ah, Massa," said he, as he removed it, "dat are is lubbly, dat are a
fac."
When I looked at it, I said very gravely--
"Take it away, Sorrow, I can't eat it; you have put the salt and
pepper on it before you broiled it, and drawn out all the juice.
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