“And I also. The truth is, I have a hearty contempt for these d—d monkey French people! I can’t tell why I ever came amongst them.”
“How long have you been here, sir?”
“Twenty years. But what terrible accounts are coming over about your riots!—why, you hang people up there, I see, without a trial!”
“No; we try them after they are hung!”
“Oh dear! I should never be able to sleep quiet in my bed!”
“The fact is, a republic won’t do.”
“Oh dear no; why cousin writes us from New York that he is coming back; and he says if things go on so, Europeans will leave off emigrating; that will be bad, won’t it? (Do let me help you to a little tongue.) But perhaps things will go better; America’s so young yet, isn’t she? And then your temperance societies are doing a deal of good; I read about them this morning. I am very particular about temperance; (you have nothing in your glass!) and then what Fanny Kemble says about the bugs—”
“Yes, and the fleas and mosquitoes too! Why it seems to me you can’t have need of any other kind of flea-bottomy.”
“Oh fie, brother!—I declare I like the Americans very much; they are so good natured. Only look at that dear little hen! Have you any muffled hens in your country—any bantams?” Thus a whole hour rolled by unheeded in this delightful interchange of sentiment; and the universe was created in vain for any notice we took of it till the end of the dinner. I now turned up my eyes upon the hospitable branches which had afforded us protection during this repast.
The verdure of this tree is perpetual, and its branches, which are fashioned like the goose-quill, are spread out horizontally to cover an immense space. It pushes them from the trunk gradually upwards, and their outward extremity is bent gently towards the earth, so that the shelter is complete, the rain running down the trunk or from the tip of these branches. You would easily know it was intended as a shelter. From its connexion with sacred history, its venerable appearance, and extraordinary qualities, it is the most remarkable tree that grows upon the earth, and there is scarce any relic of the Holy Land more sacred. It is sung by Isaiah and Solomon: “Justus florebit sicut cedrus Libani.” “The glory of Lebanon, the beauty of Carmel, and the abundance of Sharon.”