ter the Scripture comparison,--like "vinegar
upon nitre."

"Yes, indeed!" said Sam, rising, full of supper and glory, for a closing
effort. "Yes, my feller-citizens and ladies of de other sex in general,
I has principles,--I'm proud to 'oon 'em,--they 's perquisite to dese
yer times, and ter _all_ times. I has principles, and I sticks to 'em
like forty,--jest anything that I thinks is principle, I goes in to
't;--I wouldn't mind if dey burnt me 'live,--I'd walk right up to de
stake, I would, and say, here I comes to shed my last blood fur my
principles, fur my country, fur de gen'l interests of society."

"Well," said Aunt Chloe, "one o' yer principles will have to be to
get to bed some time tonight, and not be a keepin' everybody up till
mornin'; now, every one of you young uns that don't want to be cracked,
had better be scase, mighty sudden."

"Niggers! all on yer," said Sam, waving his palm-leaf with benignity, "I
give yer my blessin'; go to bed now, and be good boys."

And, with this pathetic benediction, the assembly dispersed.

CHAPTER IX

In Which It Appears That a Senator Is But a Man

The light of the cheerful fire shone on the rug and carpet of a cosey
parlor, and glittered on the sides of the tea-cups and well-brightened
tea-pot, as Senator Bird was drawing off his boots, preparatory to
inserting his feet in a pair of new handsome slippers, which his wife
had been working for him while away on his senatorial tour. Mrs. Bird,
looking the very picture of delight, was superintending the arrangements
of the table, ever and anon mingling admonitory remarks to a number of
frolicsome juveniles, who were effervescing in all those modes of untold
gambol and mischief that have astonished mothers ever since the flood.

"Tom, let the door-knob alone,--there's a man! Mary! Mary! don't pull
the cat's tail,--poor pussy! Jim, you mustn't climb on that table,--no,
no!--You don't know, my dear, what a surprise it is to us all, to see
you here tonight!" said she, at last, when she found a space to say
something to her husband.

"Yes, yes, I thought I'd just make a run down, spend the night, and have
a little comfort at home. I'm tired to death, and my head aches!"

Mrs. Bird cast a glance at a camphor-bottle, which stood in the
half-open closet, and appeared to meditate an approach to it, but her
husband interposed.

"No, no, Mary, no doctoring! a cup of your good hot tea, and some of
our good home living, i