Give me your figgery-four Squire, I'll go in up to the
handle for you. Hit or miss, rough or tumble, claw or
mud-scraper, any way, you damn please, I'm your man."

But to return to my narrative. I was under the necessity
of devoting the day next after our landing at Liverpool,
to writing letters announcing my safe arrival to my
anxious friends in Nova Scotia, and in different parts
of England; and also some few on matters of business.
Mr. Slick was very urgent in his request, that I should
defer this work till the evening, and accompany him in
a stroll about the town, and at last became quite peevish
at my reiterated refusal.

"You remind me, Squire," said he, "of Rufus Dodge, our
great ile marchant of Boston, and as you won't walk,
p'raps you'll talk, so I'll jist tell you the story.

"I was once at the Cataract House to Niagara. It is jist
a short distance above the Falls. Out of the winders,
you have a view of the splendid white waters, or the
rapids of foam, afore the river takes its everlastin'
leap over the cliff.

"Well, Rufus come all the way from Boston to see the
Falls: he said he didn't care much about them hisself,
seein' that he warn't in the mill business; but, as he
was a goin' to England, he didn't like to say he hadn't
been there, especially as all the English knowed about
America was, that there was a great big waterfall called