Chapter 2 - Page 2

lately. All he a'tiverty and wiwacerty gone, an' he do no single t'ing but
smoke. A gentle'um who smoke alway, Masser Al'erman, get to be a
melercholy man, at last. I do t'ink 'ere be one young lady in York who be
he deat', some time!"

"We'll find the means to get the pipe out of his mouth," said the other,
looking askance at the black, as if to express more than he uttered.
"Romance and pretty girls play the deuce with our philosophy, in youth, as
thou knowest by experience, old Cupid."

"I no good for any t'ing, dat-a-way, now, not'ing," calmly returned the
black. "I see a one time, when few color' man in York hab more respect
among a fair sec', but dat a great while gone by. Now, de modder of your
Euclid, Masser Al'erman, war' a pretty woman, do' she hab but poor
conduc'. Den a war' young heself, and I use to visit at de Al'erman's
fadder's; afore a English come, and when ole Patroon war' a young man.
Golly! I great affection for Euclid, do' a young dog nebber come a near
me!"

"He's a blackguard! My back is no sooner turned, than the rascal's atop of
one of his master's geldings.'

"He'm werry young, master My'nert: no one get a wis'om fore a gray hair."

He's forty every minute, and the rogue gets impudence with his years. Age
is a reverend and respectable condition, when it brings gravity and
thought; but, if a young fool be tiresome, an old fool is contemptible.
I'll warrant me, you never were so thoughtless, or so heartless, Cupid, as
to ride an overworked beast, at night!"

"Well, I get pretty ole, Masser Myn'ert an' I forget all he do when a
young man. But here be'e Patroon, who know how to tell'e Al'erman such
t'ing better than a poor color' slave."

"A fair rising and a lucky day to you, Patroon!" cried the Alderman,
saluting a large, slow-moving, gentlemanly-looking young man of
five-and-twenty, who advanced, with the gravity of one of twice that
number of years, from the interior of the house, towards its outer door
"The winds are bespoken, and here is as fine a day as ever shone out of a
clear sky, whether it came from the pure atmosphere of Holland, or of old
England itself. Colonies and patronage! If the people on the other side of
the ocean had more faith in mother Nature, and less opinion of themselves,
they would find it very tolerable breathing in the plantations. But the
conceited rogues are like the man who blew the bellows, and fancied he
made the music; and there is never a hobbling imp of them all, but he
believes he is straighter and sounder, than the best in the colonies. Here
is our bay, now, as smooth as if it were shut in with twenty dykes, and
the voyage will be as