No. IX

Yankee Eating and Horse Feeding.

Did you ever heer tell of Abernethy, a British doctor?
said the Clockmaker. Frequently, said I, he was an eminent
man, and had a most extensive practice. Well, I reckon
he was a vulgar critter that, he replied, he treated the
honble. Aiden Gobble, secretary to our legation at London,
dreadful bad once; and I guess if it had been me he had
used that way, I'd a fixed his flint for him, so that
he'd think twice afore he'd fire such another shot as
that are again. I'd a made him make tracks, I guess, as
quick as a dog does a hog from a potatoe field. He'd a
found his way out of the hole in the fence a plaguy sight
quicker than he came in, I reckon. Hits manner, said I,
was certainly rather unceremonious at times, but he was
so honest, and so straightforward, that no person was,
I believe, ever seriously offended at him. IT WAS HIS
WAY. Then his way was so plague rough, continued the
Clockmaker, that he'd been the better, if it had been
hammered and mauled down smoother. I'd a levelled him as
flat as a flounder. Pray what was his offence? said I.
Bad enough you may depend. The honble. Alden Gobble was
dyspeptic, and he suffered great on easiness arter eatin,
so he gees to Abemethy for advice. What's the matter with
you, said the Doctor? jist that way, without even passing
the time o' day with him--What's the matter with you?