nd you of the rael '_Old Clay_,' that's a fact.

"Take a day here, now in town; and they are so identical the same, that
one day sartificates for another. You can't get out a bed afore twelve,
in winter, the days is so short, and the fires ain't made, or the room
dusted, or the breakfast can't be got, or sunthin' or another. And if
you did, what's the use? There is no one to talk to, and books only
weaken your understandin', as water does brandy. They make you let
others guess for you, instead of guessin' for yourself. Sarvants spile
your habits here, and books spite your mind. I wouldn't swap ideas with
any man. I make my own opinions, as I used to do my own clocks; and I
find they are truer than other men's. The Turks are so cussed heavy,
they have people to dance for 'em; the English are wus, for they hire
people to think for 'em. Never read a book, Squire, always think for
yourself.

"Well, arter breakfast, it's on hat and coat, ombrella in hand, (don't
never forget that, for the rumatiz, like the perlice, is always on the
look out here, to grab hold of a feller,) and go somewhere where
there is somebody, or another, and smoke, and then wash it down with a
sherry-cobbler; (the drinks ain't good here; they hante no variety in
them nother; no white-nose, apple-jack, stone-wall, chain-lightning,
rail-road, hail-storm, ginsling-talabogus, switchel-flip, gum-ticklers,
phlem-cutters, juleps, skate-iron, cast-steel, cock-tail, or nothin',
but that heavy stupid black fat porter;) then down to the coffee-house,
see what vessels have arrived, how markets is, whether there is a chance
of doin' any thin' in cotton or tobacco, whose broke to home, and so
on. Then go to the park, and see what's a goin' on there; whether those
pretty critturs, the rads are a holdin' a prime minister 'parsonally
responsible,' by shootin' at him; or whether there is a levee, or the
Queen is ridin' out, or what not; take a look at the world, make a visit
or two to kill time, when all at once it's dark. Home then, smoke a
cigar, dress for dinner, and arrive at a quarter past seven.

"Folks are up to the notch here when dinner is in question, that's a
fact, fat, gouty, broken-winded, and foundered as they be. It's rap,
rap, rap, for twenty minutes at the door, and in they come, one arter
the other, as fast as the sarvants can carry up their names. Cuss
them sarvants! it takes seven or eight of 'em to carry a man's name up
stairs, they are so awful la