"Why, if I was you, I'd go into politics," said the other. "Ye might be President some day, no telling. Do ye know how t' chop er hoe er swing a scythe?"
"Yes."
"Wal, then, if ye don't ever git t' be President, ye won't have t' starve. I saw an author one day."
"You did?"
"He was an awful-lookin' cuss," said the other, with a nod of affirmation.
The strange boy took another bite of bread and butter.
"Wrote dime novels an' drank whisky an' wore a bearskin vest," he added presently.
"Do you know the Declaration of Independence?"
"No."
"I do," said the strange boy, and gave it word for word.