And he said, “Yes, he thought so.” Says he, “There is very important laws up before the House, now, about hens' eggs—counting them.” And says he, “Taking it with all those I have spoke of and other kindred laws, and the constant strain on our minds in trying to pass laws to increase our own salaries, you can see just how cramped we are for time. And though we would love to pass some laws of Truth and Righteousness,—we fairly ache to,—yet, not having the requisite time, we are obliged to lay 'em on the table, or under it.”
“Wall,” says I, “I guess I might jest a well be a goin'.”
I bid him a cool good-bye, and started for the door. I was discouraged; but he says as I went out,—
“Mebby William Wallace will do the errent for you.”
Says I coldly,—
“William Wallace is dead, and you know it.” And says I with a real lot of dignity, “You needn't try to impose on me, or Dorlesky's errent, by tryin' to send me round amongst them old Scottish chiefs. I respect them old chiefs, and always did; and I don't relish any light talk about 'em.”
Says he, “This is another William Wallace; and very probable he can do the errent.”
“Wall,” says I, “I will send the errent to him by Bub Smith; for I am wore out.”
As I wended, my way out of Mr. Blains'es, I met the hired man, Bub Smith's friend; and he asked me,—
“If I didn't want to visit the Capitol?”