“It is certainly not a flourishing trade in this country,” said I.
“Not only that, sir; but it is not a respectable one.”
“And why not?”
“Because every blackguard meddles with it.”
“But not every blackguard is successful in it.”
“Quite the reverse; it is only the blackguard who is successful.”
“That’s an old one,” cried an elderly-looking gentleman.
“But who will talk politics on a hot day without taking a julep? Hollo, John! a dozen fresh juleps, with plenty of ice,—and rather stiff, mind ye.”
“It’s no use to talk politics to us, sir,” observed a Mr. *** of Baltimore, addressing me in a calm, tranquil voice, which had something of the tone of advice and condescension in it; “we are no longer green.”
“What do you mean by that?”