"She'll soon get over that!" ejaculates another bystander, as he
smooths the long beard on his haggard face. "Strip her down!" The
request is no sooner made, than Mr. O'Brodereque mounts the stand to
perform the feat. "Great country this, gentlemen!" he speaks, taking
her by the shoulders.
"All off! all off, general!" is the popular demand.
The sensitive nature of the innocent girl recoils; she cringes from
his touch; she shudders, and vainly attempts to resist. She must
yield; the demand is imperative. Her dress falls at Mr.
O'Brodereque's touch. She stands before the gazing crowd, exposed to
the very thighs, holding the loose folds of her dress in her hands.
There is no sympathy for those moistened eyes; oh, no! it is a
luscious feast-puritans have no part in the sin-for those who, in
our land of love and liberty, buy and sell poor human nature, and
make it food for serving hell.
Naked she stands for minutes; the assembled gentlemen have feasted
their eyes,--good men have played the part of their good natures.
General O'Brodereque, conscious of his dignity, orders her to be
taken down. The waiter performs the duty, and she is led out midst
the acclamations and plaudits of the crowd, who call for the raffle.
Mr. O'Brodereque hopes gentlemen are satisfied with what they have
seen, and will pledge his honour that the pony and dog are quite as
sound and healthy as the wench whose portions they have had a chance
to shy; and for which-the extra sight-they should pay an extra
treat.
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