said he. Why, says Alden, I presume I have the Dyspepsy.
Ah! said he, I see; a Yankee swallowed more dollars and
cents than he can digest I am an American citizen, says
Alden, with great dignity, I am Secretary to our Legation
at the Court of St. James. The devil you are, said
Abernethy, then you'll soon get rid of your dyspepsy. I
don't see that are inference, said Alden, it don't follow
from what you predicate at all--it ant a natural
consequence, I guess, that a man should cease to be ill,
because he is called by the voice of a free and enlightened
people to fill an important office. (The truth is, you
could no more trap Alden than you could an Indian. He
could see other folks' trail, and made none himself; he
was a real diplomatist, and I believe our diplomatists
are allowed to be the best in the world.) But I tell you
it does follow, said the Doctor; for in the company you'll
have to keep, you'll have to eat like a Christian. It
was an everlasting pity Alden contradicted him, for he
broke out like one ravin distracted mad. I'll be d--d,
said he, if ever I saw a Yankee that did'nt bolt his food
whole like a Boa Constrictor. How the devil can you
expect to digest food, that you neither take the trouble
to dissect, nor time to masticate? It's no wonder you
lose your teeth, for you never use them; nor your digestion,
for you overload it; nor your saliva, for you expend it
on the carpets, instead of your food. Its disgusting,
its beastly. You Yankees load your stomachs as a Devonshire
man does his cart, as full as it can hold, and as fast
as he can pitch it with a dung fork, and drive off; and
then you complain that such a load of compost is too