"There's nothing like making the fellows mind; they've got so
infernal independent here, and old Tom thinks so much of his young
wife, that his niggers have begun to imitate him. One's enough at a
time!" said Master George, with all the importance of his character.
A "bright boy," with his hair nicely parted on the middle of his
head, and frizzed for the occasion, made a polite bow, while the
others retired.
"What have you choice for supper, to-night? We want something ripe
for the palate-none of your leavings, now, you infernal nigger, and
don't tell us none of your lies."
"Birds, sir, grouse, woodcock, partridge, canvas-backs, and quails;
meats, venison, and oysters, master-did up in any shape what the
gentlemen wish. Wines, &c., if they want," replied the servant,
without any of the negro dialect, at the same time making a low bow
to Master George.
"Name it! name your dishes, gentlemen! Don't be backward. I suppose
his birds are as usual, without age to flavor them. It's perfectly
heathenish to eat birds as they are served here: we never get a bird
here that is sufficiently changed to suit a gentleman o' taste;
their beef's tough, and such steak as they make is only fit for
shoemakers and blacksmiths. I never come into the place but I think
of my journey in France, where they know the style and taste of a
gentleman, and things are served to suit your choice.
Pages:
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91