, I don't think the world has
nothin' like it nother. It beats all natur. It takes the rag off quite.
If that old Turk, Mahomed, had seed these galls, he wouldn't a bragged
about his beautiful ones in paradise so for everlastinly, I know; for
these English heifers would have beat 'em all holler, that's a fact. For
my part, I call myself a judge. I have an eye there ain't no deceivin'.
I have made it a study, and know every pint about a woman, as well as I
do about a hoss; therefore, if I say so, it must be so, and no mistake.
I make all allowances for the gear, and the gettin' up, and the vampin',
and all that sort o' flash; but toggery won't make an ugly gall handsum,
nohow you can fix it. It may lower her ugliness a leetle, but it won't
raise her beauty, if she hante got none. But I warn't a talkin' of
nobility; I was a talkin' of Life in the Country. But the wust of it is,
when galls come on the carpet, I could talk all day; for the dear little
critters, I _do_ love 'em, that's a fact. Lick! it sets me crazy a'most.
Well, where was we? for petticoats always puts every thing out o' my
head. Whereabouts was we?"

"You were saying that there were more things to be seen in London than
in the country."

"Exactly; now I have it. I've got the thread agin. So there is.

"There's England's Queen, and England's Prince, and Hanover's King, and
the old Swordbelt that whopped Bony; and he is better worth seem' than
any man now livin' on the face of the univarsal airth, let t'other one
be where he will, that's a fact. He is a great man, all through the
piece, and no mistake. If there was--what do you call that word, when
one man's breath pops into 'nother man's body, changin' lodgins, like?"

"Do you mean transmigration?"

"Yes; if there was such a thing as that, I should say it was old Liveoak
himself, Mr. Washington, that was transmigrated into him, and that's no
mean thing to say of him, I tell you.

"Well now, there's none o' these things to the country; and it's so
everlastin' stupid, it's only a Britisher and a nigger that could live
in an English country-house. A nigger don't like movin', and it would
jist suit him, if it warn't so awful wet and cold.

"Oh if I was President of these here United States,
I'd suck sugar candy and swing upon de gates;
And them I didn't like, I'd strike 'em off de docket,
And the way we'd go ahead, would be akin to Davy Crockit.
With my zippy dooden, dooden dooden, dooden