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was always standing. In a hole of this same shelf, fitted for the purpose, was the ewer; and near this, on a roller, was a towel white as the snow. Through the centre of the building ran a hall, some ten or twelve feet in width. I may be permitted to say here, for the benefit of my northern reader, who may not have seen the south, that, for threefourths of the year, the hall and the porch of a southern mansion are in constant requisition. You sit, lounge, or take your siesta, in either. Both, but more commonly the piazza, serve you for your promenade. In the hall you very frequently see the appliances for sporting-guns, belts, pouches, horns—while on the walls you will perhaps see engravings of celebrated horses. In the piazza, the dogs consider themselves privileged; and even the hounds sometimes intrude. The youngsters romp there, and there the hobby-horse performs his untiring gallop.

“I swear,” said Sancho Panza, and he might have said the same without swearing, “I think the world is everywhere the same.” But the sanguine squire, it will be remembered, was untravelled. There is no record that he ever left the chimney-corner before his marriage; and Donna Teresa Panza first awoke and missed his conjugal presence on

the first night of his world-renowned pilgrimage. With many grains of allowance, therefore, O shade of the squire of squires ! do I repeat thy immortal words; much, I confess, in thine own spirit, but nevertheless “so as with a difference.” Else why have the terms “haughty Southron” and “weasel Scot” been bandied across the Tweed ? Why else have “ La Belle France" and "Le Diable Angleterre" played fisticuffs across the Strait of Dover? Why else the epithet “proud” for the Spaniard, and “passionate” for the Italian? Why else swells the world of words, as the sands of the sea for multitude, with these latter-day additions of Blue-Nose, Yankee, Sucker, Hoosier, Buckeye, Wolverine—what not?

“Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds,

But Harry Harry;"

said the new-made king Henry V.

“No, Sancho,” thought I, as I came down the next morning, “the world is not everywhere the same; and you yourself would not have said so on a second knight-errant pilgrimage Ind, as if to confirm my remark the voice of Professor Matters, in no very gentle tones, saluted my ear.

“Git a-o-u-t! Don't ye s’pose I kin put on my own clothes ? Same thing, a’most, yew tried to dew last night. Jest as if a man couldn't pull off his own trowsis ! Who told ye to come here ?"

“ Maussa John."
“Who's maussy John ?”
"De colonel, maussa."

“What in the name o’human natur du ye call me maussy for? I ain't nobody's master.”

56 Yes, maussa.”

“There it is ag'in. Yew kin leave these diggins."

“Yes, maussa."

“Wal, why don't ye go? Clear out. I guess I kin dress myself. What's yer name?”

“Name Grief, maussa.”
" Name what?"
6 Name Grief.”

“Git aout ! yew're jokin'! What's yer name, anyhow ?"

“Name GRIEF, maussa."
“Wal, yew kin take my hat." **
Here there was a short pause.

“No, no ! yew consumed fool! I don't want it brushed. Yew're gittin' all the nap off on't. Yew kin go. I'm threw with ye this time. I al'ays wait on myself to hum; and I don't want nobody to wait on me away *Synonymous with another Yankee phrase—“Well! that beats me.”

from hum. I'm a free and independent citizen of Steventown, State of Maine."

“I al’ays waits on de gemmen, maussa.”

“ Childern of Isril ! can't you take a hint, yew darned nigger! Make yourself scarce now, or I'll make you think the eend o' the world's comin'. Ef I don't I hope I may die !"

Here Grief evidently became alarmed; for I heard his step at the head of the stairs. As he passed me, a moment afterwards, his mouth displayed its whole inventory of interior decoration, as he said

“Ki! ben gwine 'stracted, sure's you bawn !

VOL. I.

G

VII.

LIGHT-WOOD.

Of all the sounds that ever broke upon the cold, wet, hungry traveller's ear during years of peregrinations through the “sunny south,” when it rains semi-occasionally three days every week, and is awful wet the remainder, there is one that is worse, worser, worstest of all the others.

“Fancy my feelings,” on alighting at the City Hotel,” for instance, such a paragon of excellence as that at Albany, Geo., after riding upon the “ Alligator stage line" all night, anxious to meet a bright blazing fire, and knowing from experience how soon it would be created by light-wood; to hear Cæsar, in reply to the landlord's order to fly round and get a fire, in despairing tones say: “Massa! de light-wood am done gone, sah.”

Gone too, then, is all chance for fire or

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