"You don't see me trade some Guinea nigga'?"
"Oh, no."
"You don't see me make some smuggling"
"No, sir; not at all."
"But, I am Jean Marie Poquelin. I mine me hown bizniss. Dat all right?
Adieu."
He put his hat on and withdrew. By and by he stood, letter in hand, before the person to whom it was addressed. This person employed an interpreter.
"He says," said the interpreter to the officer, "he come to make you the fair warning how you muz not make the street pas' at his 'ouse."
The officer remarked that "such impudence was refreshing;" but the experienced interpreter translated freely.
"He says: 'Why you don't want?'" said the interpreter.
The old slave-trader answered at some length.