I admit that my ambition overlept herself in this instuns, and
I've been very careful ever since to deal square with the public.
If I was the public I should insist on squareness, tho' I
shouldn't do as a portion of my audience did on the occasion jest
mentioned, which they was employed in sum naberin' coal mines.

"As you hain't got no more Cannybals to show us, old man," said
one of 'em, who seemed to be a kind of leader among 'em--a tall
dis'greeble skoundril--"as you seem to be out of Cannybals, we'll
sorter look round here and fix things. Them wax figgers of yours
want washin'. There's Napoleon Bonyparte and Julius Caesar--they
must have a bath," with which coarse and brutal remark he
imitated the shrill war-hoop of the western savige, and, assisted
by his infamus coal-heavin companyins, he threw all my wax-work
into the river, and let my wild bears loose to pray on a peaceful
and inoffensive agricultooral community.

Leavin Liverpool (I'm goin' back there, tho--I want to see the
Docks, which I heard spoken of at least once while I was there) I
cum to London in a 1st class car, passin' the time very agreeable
in discussin, with a countryman of mine, the celebrated
Schleswig-Holstein question. We took that int'resting question
up and carefully traced it from the time it commenced being so,
down to the present day, when my countryman, at the close of a
four hours' annymated debate, said he didn't know anything about
it himself, and he wanted to know if I did. I told him that I
did not. He's at Ramsgate now, and I am to write him when I feel
like givin him two days in which to discuss the question of negro
slavery in America. But now I do not feel like it.