Mr. J. I say, it appears from a paragraph in this paper——
Mrs. J. Well, I declare, Jones, you are enough to tire the patience of Job. Why on airth don’t you out with it.
Mr. J. Mrs. Jones, will you be quiet. If you get my dander up, I’ll raise Satan round this house, and you know it, tew. Mr. Smith you must excuse me. I’m obliged to be a little peremptory to my wife, for if you wasn’t here she’d lick me like all natur. Well, as I said, it appears from this paper, that Seth Slope—you know’d Seth Slope, that used to be round here?
Mrs. J. Yes; well, go on; out with it.
Mr. J. Well, you know he went out in a whalin’ voyage.
Mrs. J. Yes, well.
Mr. J. Well, it appears he was settin’ on the stern, when the vessel give a lee lurch, and he was knocked overboard, and hain’t written to his friends since that time.
Mrs. J. La, souls! you don’t say so.
Before going further, I will endeavour to give you some idea of this Seth Slope. He was what they term down-east, “a poor shote;” his principal business was picking up chips, feeding the hogs, &c., &c. I will represent him with his hat. (Puts on hat.)
“Mrs. Jones says I don’t know nothin’, and Mr. Jones says I don’t know nothin’, (laughs;) and everybody says I don’t know nothin’; and I say I do know nothin’, (laughs.) Don’t I pick up all the chips to make the fires? And don’t I feed the hogs, and the ducks, and the hens? (Laughs.) And don’t I go down to the store every morning, for a jug of rum? And don’t I take a good suck myself? I don’t know nothin’—ha—(laughs.) And don’t I go to church every Sunday? and don’t I go up stairs, and when the folks go to sleep, don’t I throw corn on ’em to wake ’em up? And don’t I see the fellers winking at the gals, and the gals winking at the fellers? And don’t I go home and tell the old folk; and when they come home, don’t the old folk kick up the darndest row? (Laughs.) And don’t I drive the hogs out of the garden, to keep ’em from rooting up the taters? And don’t I git asleep there, sometimes, and don’t they root me up. (Laughs.) And didn’t I see a fly on Deacon Stoke’s red nose, t’other day; and didn’t I say, ‘Take care, Deacon Stokes, you’ll burn his feet?’ I don’t know nothin’, eh!” (Laughs.)