" The sentimental southern gentleman has no
reference to the throes of anguish that are piercing the wounded
soul of the woman.
"A gentleman what ain't got a five-dollar bill in his pocket better
not show his winkers in this crowd. After that, gentlemen, there's a
slap-up pony, and one of the knowinest dogs outside of a
court-house. Now,--gents! if this ain't some tall doings,--some of a
raffle, just take my boots and I'll put it for Texas. A chance for a
nigger gal-a pony-a dog; who on 'arth wants more, gentlemen?" Mr.
O'Brodereque again throws back his coat, shrugs his shoulders, wipes
the perspiration from his brow, and is about to descend from the
table. No, he won't come down just yet. He has struck a vein; his
friends are getting up a favourable excitement.
"Bravo! bravo!-long may General Brodereque keep the hospitable Your
House! Who wouldn't give a vote for Brodereque at the next
election?" re-echoes through the room.
"One more remark, gentlemen." Mr. Brodereque again wipes the
perspiration from his forehead, and orders a glass of water, to
loosen his oratorical organs. He drinks the water, seems to increase
in his own greatness; his red face glows redder, he makes a
theatrical gesticulation with his right hand, crumples his hair into
curious points, and proceeds:--"The lucky man what gets the gal prize
is to treat the crowd!" This is seconded and carried by acclamation,
without a dissenting voice.
A murmuring noise, as of some one in trouble, is now heard at the
door: the crowd gives way: a beautiful mulatto girl, in a black silk
dress, with low waist and short sleeves, and morocco slippers on her
feet, is led in and placed upon the stand Mr.
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