' When the British wanted our folks to join in the treaty to
chock the wheels of the slave trade, I recollect hearin' old John
Adams say, we had ought to humour them; for, says he, 'They supply
us with labour on easier terms, by shippin' out the Irish.' Says he,
'They work better, and they work cheaper, and they don't live so
long. The blacks, when they are past work hang on for ever, and a
proper bill of expence they be; but hot weather and new rum rub out
the poor rates for t'other ones.'
"The English are the boys for tradin' with; they shell out their cash
like a sheef of wheat in frosty weather; it flies all over the
thrashin' floor; but then they are a cross-grained, ungainly, kickin'
breed of cattle, as I e'enamost ever seed. Whoever gave them the name
of John Bull, knew what he was about, I tell you; for they are
bull-necked, bull-headed folks, I vow; sulky, ugly tempered, vicious
critters, a-pawin' and a-roarin' the whole time, and plaguy onsafe
unless well watched. They are as headstrong as mules, and as
conceited as peacocks."
The astonishment with which I heard this tirade against my countrymen
absorbed every feeling of resentment. I listened with amazement at
the perfect composure with which he uttered it. He treated it as one
of those self-evident truths, that need neither proof nor apology,
but as a thing well known and admitted by all mankind.
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