Uncle John used me to kill skunks
occasionally. This there was no great harm in doing, only he should
not have talked about it. I disliked, it, however, exceedingly.
Once, I am told, when he was in the South, some southern gentleman,
for some trifling offense, challenged him.
Uncle John was told that he, as the party challenged, might choose
his weapons.
"Well," he said to his enemy, "if you will wait till I can send for
my skunk gun, I am ready for you."
I have since, I do hate to say it, been called the skunk gun
repeatedly. To be sure, no one that has any reverence in his nature
speaks of me in this way. Uncle John had not much, but his son, the
father of that little girl, treats me with due respect, and forbids
them to call me the skunk gun.
I was once the defender of liberty, and am ready to be so again. I
was not made to kill skunks, those disgusting little animals. I hate
to think of them.
Pardon me for keeping you listening to me so long; I have done. I
wish to hear now what that respectable-looking broadsword has to
say. We two ought to be friends."
"I was born a gentleman," said the broadsword. "I was always
considered the sign, the symbol of one. Not many years since, a
sword was so essential to the character of a gentleman that a man
without one by his side, was, in fact, not considered a gentleman.
My master, who was also yours, Mr. Curlingtongs, was one the
officers in the company of Cadets at its first formation.
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