“And then people wonder if we are not seen at the ballot-boxes,” said the New-Yorker. “Who the d—l would scramble up among a parcel of ragamuffins in order to exercise a privilege shared by every pauper! I would as lief do common militia duty.”
“What you have told of your friend Mr. B*** in Philadelphia has happened to my friend Mr. H*** in Baltimore,” cried the Virginian.
“And to myself,” added the Bostonian; “and since that time I am determined never to disgrace myself again by voting at an election, except to oblige a friend.”
“Jefferson has ruined the country!” shouted the whole company.
“I only wonder,” said one of my friends, “he has left sufficient brandy in the country for you to get drunk on.”
“We get that from France,” rejoined the witty gentleman; “the Americans produce nothing but whisky and rum, and those only of the most inferior quality. Whenever we want anything decent, we are obliged to send for it from abroad.”
“That’s a fact,” added the Bostonian; “and pay the dealer a hundred per cent, profit on it.”
“And, after all, get it adulterated,” said the New-Yorker.
“I cannot conceive,” remarked the Philadelphian, “how a gentleman of fortune can possibly live in this country.”
“He is a great fool if he does,” replied the French wit. “England for a rich man, and France for a man of moderate fortune! that’s my motto; and as for us,—I mean the higher classes of Americans,—we are everywhere at home—except in the United States. En Amérique les étrangers sont chez eux, tandis que les Américains ne sont chez eux que quand ils sont à l’étranger.”