"What is this?" says I. "Your potatoes taste awful cheesey."
"It is not potatoes, but calf's brains au gratin," says he.
"Calf's brains, a grating," says I; "calf's brains, and I eating them. Young man, I'll have you investigated for this! Calf's brains, indeed! do you think I'm a cannibal. Take the heathenish dish out of my sight."
The gentleman laughed, and says he:
"I will relieve you of it."
Then he drew it over his way and began to eat.
I declare, sisters, I couldn't bear to see that man finishing up the dish as if he liked it. He seemed to have brains enough of his own, without wanting to rob a spring calf of what little belongs to it. But he finished the dish and got up to go, making me a real polite bow as he went away from the table.
When he was gone I beckoned to the young man.
"Is that man from the Sandwich Islands, or where?" says I.
"That gentleman! Oh, he's a Senator from the West," says he. "The whitewashing committee hate him like poison. He gives them enough to do, I can tell you. Awful in that direction."