On my voyage up the North River, I was seated in the cabin reading a newspaper, when I observed an odd-looking individual reading over my shoulder. I looked up in his face, when the fellow, with his hands in his pocket, and not in the least disconcerted at being caught in so impertinent and unmannerly an act, exclaimed:
“Any news in particular?”
“No, Sir; will you accept the paper?”
“Oh no! can’t; ain’t got time. It’s the first time I’ve been up this river, and I want to be looking reound. How can they take a fellow up this river for a dollar and found. They can’t dew it. It’s a take-in.”
“How is that?”
“Why they charge one dollar to take you in, and when you git up to Albany, you’ve got to pay another dollar to git eout. Got this place all fixed up so. Sophy’s all reound tew. I never use Sophy’s myself, but once courted a gal by that name, and it looks a kind o’ natural to see Sophy’s reound; and them stuffed-bottom chairs eout there. I thought I’d set deown on ’em; by thunder, I jumped up three feet. Oh, I’ll be darned if I didn’t think I was sitting down on somebody’s baby. You see I chaw tobacco; grandfather chawed, and father he chawed, and mother, she—eh—no, she didn’t she snuffed, so you see I have to keep running up to expectorate—as our doctor says, overboard. I expect I shall have to go again in about a minute.”
“You need not take that trouble, Sir,” said I “here are spittoons.”
“Spittoons! Oh yes, I know’d what them was for, but they’ve got ’em brightened up so, I didn’t like to nasty ’em. I went to the the-ater to see you t’other night. Didn’t you see me? I sot right in front of you.”
“No, Sir, I did not.”
“Wal, I don’t suppose you could; there was a hull lot of fellers there. I got jammed in. I had on a striped vest, the fronts were new, but the backs being made of cotton, sometimes will give eout. By golly, I got tew laughing, so away went the back, slitted right up to the collar. I was a little the tornest critter you ever did see.”