"
The Dutchman soon prepared the smashes, and supplying them with
straws, put them upon the table, and seated chairs close at hand.
"Excuse me!" said Manuel, "I've drunk enough already, and should
like to lie down. I am unwell, and feel the effect of what I have
already taken. I am too feeble. Pray tell me how far the prison is
from here, and I will go myself."
"Go, is it?--the divil a go ye'll go from this until ye drink the
smash. None of yer Portugee independence here. We larn niggers the
politeness of gintlemen in Charleston, me buck!" and seizing him by
the collar, dragged him to the table, then grasping the tumbler with
the other hand, he held it before his face. "Do you see that? and,
bedad, ye'll drink it, and not be foolin', or I'd put the contents
in your phiz," said he.
Manuel took the glass, while the Dutchman stood chuckling over the
very nice piece of fun, and the spice of Mr. Dunn's wit, as he
called it. "Vat zu make him vat'e no vants too? You doz make me
laugh so ven zu comes 'ere, I likes to kilt myself," said Drydez.
A bright mulatto-fellow was now seen in the front store, making
quizzical signs to the Dutchman; who understanding its
signification, lost no time in slipping into his pocket a tumbler
nearly half full of brandy and water; and stepping behind the
division door, passed it slily to the mulatto, who equally as slily
passed it down his throat; and putting a piece of money into the
Dutchman's hand, stepped up to the counter, as if to wait for his
change.
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