On my return from the city in the afternoon, he told me he had presented his credentials to “the Socdolager,” and was most graciously and cordially received; but still, I could not fail to observe that there was an evident air of disappointment about him.
“Pray, what is the meaning of the Socdolager?” I asked. “I never heard of the term before.”
“Possible!” said he, “never heerd tell of ‘the Socdolager,’ why you don’t say so! The Socdolager is the President of the lakes—he is the whale of the intarnal seas—the Indgians worshipped him once on a time, as the king of fishes. He lives in great state in the deep waters, does the old boy, and he don’t often shew himself. I never see’d him myself, nor any one that ever had sot eyes on him; but the old Indgians have see’d him and know him well. He won’t take no bait, will the Socdolager; he can’t be caught, no how you can fix, he is so ‘tarnal knowin’, and he can’t be speared nother, for the moment he sees aim taken, he ryles the water and is out of sight in no tune. He can take in whole shoals of others hisself, tho’ at a mouthful. He’s a whapper, that’s a fact. I call our Minister here ‘the Socdolager,’ for our diplomaters were never known to be hooked once yet, and actilly beat all natur’ for knowin’ the soundin’s, smellin’ the bait, givin’ the dodge, or rylin’ the water; so no soul can see thro’ it but themselves. Yes, he is ‘a Socdolager,’ or a whale among diplomaters.
“Well, I rigs up this morning, full fig, calls a cab, and proceeds in state to our embassy, gives what Cooper calls a lord’s beat of six thund’rin’ raps of the knocker, presents the legation ticket, and was admitted to where ambassador was. He is a very pretty man all up his shirt, and he talks pretty, and smiles pretty, and bows pretty, and he has got the whitest hand you ever see, it looks as white, as a new bread and milk poultice. It does indeed.
“‘Sam Slick,’ sais he, ‘as I’m alive. Well, how do you do, Mr. Slick? I am ‘nation glad to see you, I affection you as a member of our legation. I feel kinder proud to have the first literary man of our great nation as my Attache.’
“‘Your knowledge of human natur, (added to your’n of soft sawder,’ sais I,) ‘will raise our great nation, I guess, in the scale o’ European estimation.’
“He is as sensitive as a skinned eel, is Layman, and he winced at that poke at his soft sawder like any thing, and puckered a little about the mouth, but he didn’t say nothin’, he only bowed. He was a Unitarian preacher once, was Abednego, but he swapt preachin’ for politics, and a good trade he made of it too; that’s a fact.
“‘A great change,’ sais I, ‘Abednego, since you was a preachin’ to Connecticut and I was a vendin’ of clocks to Nova Scotia, ain’t it? Who’d a thought then, you’d a been “a Socdolager,” and me your “pilot fish,” eh!’
“It was a raw spot, that, and I always touched him on it for fun.
“‘Sam,’ said he, and his face fell like an empty puss, when it gets a few cents put into each eend on it, the weight makes it grow twice as long in a minute. ‘Sam,’ said he, ‘don’t call me that are, except when we are alone here, that’s a good soul; not that I am proud, for I am a true Republican;’ and he put his hand on his heart, bowed and smiled hansum, ‘but these people will make a nickname of it, and we shall never hear the last of it; that’s a fact. We must respect ourselves, afore others will respect us. You onderstand, don’t you?’