it's no great boastin' to say I'm better than such fellers,
as them small fry of white bait is. If I was there, give
me a good subject like that to-night, give me a good horn
of lignum vitae--"

"Lignum vitae--what's that?"

"Lord-o-massy on us! you don't know nothin', Squire.
Where have you been all your born days, not to know what
lignum vitae is? why lignum vitae, is hot brandy and
water to be sure, pipin' hot, scald an iron pot amost,
and spiced with cloves and sugar in it, stiff enough to
make a tea-spoon stand up in it, as straight as a dead
nigger. Wine ain't no good, it goes off as quick as the
white beads off of champaign does, and then leaves a
stupid head-ache behind it. But give me the subject and
a horn of lignum vitae (of the wickedest kind), and then
let a feller rile me, so as to get my back up like a
fightin' cat's, and I'll tell you what I'd do, I'd sarve
him as our Slickville boys sarve the cows to California.
One on 'em lays hold of the tail, and the other skins
her as she runs strait an eend. Next year, it's all growed
ready for another flayin'. Fact, I assure you. Lord!
I'd skin a feller so, his hide would never grow agin;
I'd make a caution of him to sinners, I know.

"Only hear them fellers now talk of extendin' of the
representation; why the house is a mob now, plaguy little
better, I assure you. Like the house in Cromwell's time,
they want "Sam Slick's" purge. But talkin' of mobs, puts