The Attaché; or, Sam Slick in England — Volume 02 by Thomas Chandler Haliburton
page 171 of 185 (92%)
page 171 of 185 (92%)
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mortality is changed for immortality. This burial place
contains no one that I have ever seen or known; but it contains the remains of those from whom I derived my lineage and my name. I therefore naturally desired to see it. Having communicated my intention to my two American companions, I was very much struck with the different manner in which they received the announcement. "Come back soon, Squire," said Mr. Slick; "go and see your old friend, if you must, and go to the old campin' grounds of your folks; though the wigwam I expect has gone long ago, but don't look at anythin' else. I want we should visit the country together. I have an idea from what little I have seed of it, Scotland is over-rated. I guess there is a good deal of romance about their old times; and that, if we knowed all, their old lairds warn't much better, or much richer than our Ingian chiefs; much of a muchness. Kinder sorter so, and kinder sorter not so, no great odds. Both hardy, both fierce; both as poor as Job's Turkey, and both tarnation proud, at least, that's my idea to a notch. "I have often axed myself what sort of a gall that splenderiferous, 'Lady of the Lake' of Scott's was, and I kinder guess she was a red-headed Scotch heifer, with her hair filled with heather, and feather, and lint, with no shoes and stockings to her feet, and that |
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