Mr. D. (Passing his cup.) "Drink deep or taste not of the Pierian spring."
Mr. F. (Sarcastically.) Take care, you'll be found using the products of slave labor!
Frank. (Jocosely.)
"Think how many backs have smarted,
For the sweets," &c.
Take a bit of toast, Mr. Dryman, our northern products are perfectly innocent, you know?
Mr. D. (Helping himself bountifully.) "Ask no questions for conscience's sake."
Mr. F. The practice of you Northerners is consistent with your professions.
Mr. D. "Consistency, thou art a jewel!"
Frank. It is very hard to be consistent in this world, uncle. My mother once made a resolution to use nothing polluted by Intemperance or Oppression, but finding that it required her to take constant thought "what we should eat and drink, and wherewithal we should be clothed," she was fain to relax her discipline.
Mrs. G. Frank, thee must not transcend the truth in thy mirthfulness.