Old Mr. Bobbet, and the Editer of the Gimlet seconded the motion at the same time. And Shakespeare Bobbet wantin’ to do somethin’ in a public way, got up and motioned “that they proceed to the table on the usial road,” but there wasn’t any other way—only to wade the creek—that didn’t seem to be necessary, but nobody took no notice of it, so it was jest as well.
WHAT HAPPENED AT THE DINNER
The dinner was good, but there was an awful crowd round the tables, and I was glad I wore my old lawn dress, for the children was thick, and so was bread and butter, and sass of all kinds, and jell tarts. And I hain’t no shirk, I jest plunged right into the heat of the battle, as you may say, waitin’ on the children, and the spots on my dress skirt would have been too much for anybody that couldn’t count 40. To say nothin’ about old Mr. Peedick steppin’ through the back breadth, and Betsey Bobbet ketchin’ holt of me, and rippin’ it off the waist as much as ½ a yard. And then a horse started up behind the widder Tubbs, as I was bendin’ down in front of her to get somethin’ out of a basket, and she weighin’ above 200, was precipitated onto my straw bonnet, jammin’ it down almost as flat as it was before it was braided. I came off pretty well in other respects, only about two yards of the ruflin’ of my black silk cape was tore by two boys who got to fightin’ behind me, and bein’ blind with rage tore it off, thinkin’ they had got holt of each other’s hair. There was a considerable number of toasts drank, I can’t remember all of ’em, but among ’em was these,
“The eagle of Liberty; May her quills lengthen till the proud shadow of her wings shall sweetly rest on every land.”
“The 4th of July; the star which our old four fathers tore from the ferocious mane of the howling lion of England, and set in the calm and majestic brow of E pluribus unum. May it gleam with brighter and brighter radience, till the lion shall hide his dazzled eyes, and cower like a stricken lamb at the feet of E pluribus.”
“Dr. Bombus our respected citizen; how he tenderly ushers us into a world of trial, and professionally and scientifically assists us out of it. May his troubles be as small as his morphine powders, and the circle of his joys as well rounded as his pills.”
“The press of Jonesville, the Gimlet, and the Augur; May they perforate the crust of ignorance with a gigantic hole, through which blushing civilization can sweetly peer into futurity.”