"Wall, I don't think you be 'ither," said a young man, who seemed to look with some compassion on Frederick in his painful position.
"Asa Cutting, who asked your opinion?" said the landlord, magisterially. "Young man," continued he to Frederick, "I hain't once seen the color of your eyes sence you've ben in my house."
He must have seen them at that moment, for they were bent on him full of flashing indignation. But he went on.
"If you are a college-larnt young man, you can read Greek most likely?"
"Yes."
"Wall, I've got a Greek book here that I would like to have you read out of."
And, after some searching, a small book bound in paper was handed to Frederick. He took it readily, hoping to prove by his scholarship the truth of his assertions. To his disappointment, it was a little Chinese or Japanese pamphlet that had found its way to this remote place.
"This is not Greek; it is Chinese," said he.
"Hum!" said the landlord, in a tone of contempt; "that jest shows how much you know about it. If that ain't Greek, I would like to know what is. Do you ever see paper like that nowadays? That's Greek paper; it was invented ages before Chiny was ever heard of."
"Wall," said Asa Cutting, "I always have thought that them scratches in that book that pass for letters were jest like the scratches on the tea-chists in my store."