ll kill you, that's sartain. I shall never forget a juicy day I once spent
in one of them dismal old places. I'll tell you how I came to be there.
"The last time I was to England, I was a dinin' with our consul to Liverpool,
and a very gentleman-like old man he was too; he was appointed by Washington,
and had been there ever since our glorious revolution. Folks gave him a great
name, they said he was a credit to us. Well, I met at his table one day an old
country squire, that lived somewhere down in Shropshire, close on to Wales,
and says he to me, arter cloth was off and cigars on, 'Mr. Slick,' says he,
'I'll be very glad to see you to Norman Manor,' (that was the place where he
staid, when he was to home). 'If you will return with me I shall be glad to
shew you the country in my neighbourhood, which is said to be considerable pretty.'
"'Well,' says I, 'as I have nothin' above particular to see to, I don't
care if I do go.'
"So off we started; and this I will say, he was as kind as he cleverly
knew
