Hominem, pagina nostra sapit.—MART
Eye nature’s walks, shoot folly as it flies,
And catch the manners living as they rise.—POPE
Thinks I to myself, as I overheard a person inquire of the servant at the door,in an unmistakeable voice and tone, “Is the Squire to hum?” thatcan be no one else than my old friend Sam Slick the Clockmaker. But it couldadmit of no doubt when he proceeded, “If he is, tell him I amhere.”
“Who shall I say, Sir?”
The stranger paused a moment, and then said, “It’s such aneverlastin’ long name, I don’t think you can carry it all to wunst,and I don’t want it broke in two. Tell him it’s a gentleman thatcalculates to hold a protracted meeten here to-night. Come, don’t standstarin’ there on the track, you might get run over. Don’t you hearthe engine coming? Shunt off now.”
“Ah, my old friend,” said I, advancing, and shaking him by thehand, “how are you?”
“As hearty as a buck,” he replied, “though I can’t jistjump quite so high now.”
“I knew you,” I said, “the moment I