Al Faizi stood motionless, lookin’ on the fair seen ahead, as if he wuz a-lookin’ over the Swellin’s of Jordan into the Promised Land; part of the time that riz up look rested on Alice’s sweet face.
Alice and Martin wuz a-walkin’ arm-in-arm up and down the deck, as much took up with the sight as we wuz, only Martin thought it looked more wise to not act tickled and enthuastick about it.
That is the first rule in etiket with some folks, to not act tickled and glad about anything, but to look as stunny and onmoved at a masterpiece of Art, or a towerin’ Alp, as at a plate of cold ham.
Josiah, he wuz a-worryin’ about the tug that wuz to take us on shore.
“A tug!” sez he; “I don’t like that name, it don’t sound reliable. If it is a good convenience, why is it sech a tug to it to carry us?”
Sez I, “Be calm, Josiah, everything will come out right.”
And sez he, “One of the passengers called it a ‘tender.’ If it is so tender, I don’t believe it is safe. Tenderness means weakness,” says he.
“Not always,” sez I, “quite the reverse.” But I see that it wuz no time to plunge into metaphysicks and prove to him what I knew well, that “the bravest are the tenderest—the lovin’ are the darin’.”
Then sez he, “If we ever live to git into that tug, we have got to have our baggage all overhauled by the Custom House Officers.”
“Wall,” sez I, “what of it? We hain’t nothin’ to conceal or cover up.”