I looked at that clerk cross-eyed, and it made him squirm.

I wasen't blind--not much.

That clerk wanted to steel _that_ umbreller, to send to HORRIS GREELEY,
so the Filosifer could keep the reign storms of Tammany from spatterin'
his white cote.

I understood his little dodge and nipped it.

"Snowball," said I, addressin' a dark skinned individual with a white
apern, while I was seated at the dinner table, "what in the deuce makes
all your dishes so small?"

"Dem is for one pusson, sah," said he. "Dat is an indiwidual butter
dish, sah. Dem is indiwidual vegetable dishes--and dat's an indiwidual
salt-cellar, sah," said he, pintin' to each piece of crockery.

I was hungry, and the crockery was soon empty.

Seein' a platter of ice cream down the table aways, I got up onto my
feet, and havin' a good long arm, reached for it.

It was awful cold, and sot my stumps to achin'.

I got one holler tooth full of the stuff.

"Snowball," said I, "look here."

"Well, sah?" he replied.