"
When we came to the Bridge, Mr. Slick stopped his horse, to shake
hands with Porter, whom he recognized as an old acquaintance and
customer. He enquired after a bark-mill he had smuggled from the
States for him, and enlarged on the value of such a machine, and the
cleverness of his countrymen who invented such useful and profitable
articles; and was recommending a new process of tanning, when a
female voice from the house was heard, vociferating, "John Porter,
come here this minute." "Coming, my dear," said the husband. "Come
here, I say, directly, why do you stand talking to that Yankee
villain there." The poor husband hung his head, looked silly, and
bidding us good-bye, returned slowly to the house.
As we drove on, Mr. Slick said, "That was me--I did that."
"Did what?" said I.
"That was me that sent him back; I called him and not his wife. I
had that 'ere bestowment ever since I was knee high or so; I'm a
real complete hand at ventriloquism; I can take off any man's voice I
ever heerd to the very nines. If there was a law agin forgin' that as
there is for handwritin', I guess I should have been hanged long ago.
I've had high goes with it many a time, but it's plaguy dangersome,
and I don't pracTISE it now but seldom. I had a real bout with that
'ere citizen's wife once, and completely broke her in for him; she
went as gentle as a circus horse for a space, but he let her have her
head agin, and she's as bad as ever now.
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