and what is wus, a British author; and yet, because he
was a man of genius, because genius has the 'tarnal globe
for its theme, and the world for its home, and mankind
for its readers, and bean't a citizen of this state or
that state, but a native of the univarse, why we welcomed
him, and feasted him, and leveed him, and escorted him,
and cheered him, and honoured him, did he honour us? What
did he say of us when he returned? Read his book.

"No, don't read his book, for it tante worth readin'.
Has he said one word of all that reception in his book?
that book that will be read, translated, and read agin
all over Europe--has he said one word of that reception?
Answer me that, will you? Darned the word, his memory
was bad; he lost it over the tafrail when he was sea-sick.
But his notebook was safe under lock and key, and the
pigs in New York, and the chap the rats eat in jail, and
the rough man from Kentucky, and the entire raft of galls
emprisoned in one night, and the spittin' boxes and all
that stuff, warn't trusted to memory, it was noted down,
and printed.

"But it tante no matter. Let any man give me any sarce
in England, about my country, or not give me the right
_po_-sition in society, as Attache to our Legation, and,
as Cooper says, I'll become belligerent, too, I will, I
snore. I can snuff a candle with a pistol as fast as
you can light it; hang up an orange, and I'll first peel
it with ball and then quarter it. Heavens! I'll let
daylight dawn through some o' their jackets, I know.