When I awoke, the first I heard was "Well! I declare, if
that ain't an amazin' fine shot, too, Considerin' how the critter was
a-runnin' the whole blessed time; if I hain't cut her head off with a
ball, jist below the throat, that's a fact. There's no mistake in a
good Kentucky rifle! I tell you."
"Whose head?" said I, in great alarm, "whose head, Mr. Slick? For
heaven's sake what have you done?" (for I had been dreaming of those
angelic politicians, the American ladies.)
"Why that 'ere hen-partridge's head, to be sure," said he; "don't you
see how special wonderful wise it looks, a-flutterin' about arter its
head?"
"True," said I, rubbing my eyes, and opening them in time to see the
last muscular spasms of the decapitated body; "true, Mr. Slick, it is
a happy illustration of our previous conversation--A BODY WITHOUT A
HEAD."
No. XXX
A Tale of Bunker's Hill.
Mr. Slick, like all his countrymen whom I have seen, felt that his
own existence was involved in that of the Constitution of the United
States, and that it was his duty to uphold it upon all occasions. He
affected to consider its government and its institutions as perfect,
and if any doubt was suggested as to the stability or character of
either, would make the common reply of all Americans, "I guess you
don't understand us," or else enter into a laboured defence.
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