A tall chap with a sort of good natered face, but the darndest fish-hawk nose that you ever sot eyes on, stood with a lot of fellers on the deck of the boat that had the most music in it—an old codger, with a blue coat lined and faced all over with yaller, and a cocked hat right on his head, with one eend curling up, jest over his nose, like a hen-hawk ready to pick his eyes out, and with his two legs swallered up in a pair of black and yaller boots, stood close by the man with the nose.
"Captin Doolittle," sez I, "get out the gun, there's the President."
"What, that old chap with the yaller legs and breast," sez he, "that looks like an overgrown grasshopper a skipping out of the last century into this?"
"Jest so," sez I, "that's the President of the United States, I haint no doubt—so three cheers, and then blaze away!"
The nigger, he went down and brought up the old gun—Captin Doolittle, he loaded her down purty tight, pushed the charge hum with his ramrod, shook down the powder in the pan, and arter trying it to his shoulder, sez he,
"Jonathan, go ahead."
"I took a squint at the leetle nigger tu see if all was ready, and then I off with my old bell-crown," and sez I, "now"—with that I gin it a flurrish—"Hurra!!!" I yelled out like the bust of a cannon—"Hurra!!" sung out Captin Doolittle on the taper eend of my yell—"Hurra!" squeaked the leetle nigger. With that the old gun banged away, and the tall man with the nose, he bowed and flurrished his hand at us, and with that I saw Alderman Purdy, a chap that used to come to the Express office when I was there afore, and the minit he saw that it was me, the boat stopped all tu once, and begun tu snort and roll on the water like a sick porpoise, and some one sung out, "Cum aboard."
Captin Doolittle and the nigger, they let down the boat, and afore I knew it there I was, standing in the steamboat. The minit I stepped aboard, the swad of fellers on deck with toot-horns and fifes and drums, let out a hull thunder storm of music. Captin Doolittle, he banged off the old gun agin; the leetle nigger, he got up an extra shirt and gin another leetle hurra; and Mr. Purdy, sez he,
"Mr. Slick, the President wants to see you."
"Wal," sez I, "I haint no objection, only give me time to slick up a mite."