ians, it is also their duty to '_aim higher_.'"

CHAPTER XI. A SWOI-REE.

Mr. Slick visited me late last night, dressed as if he had been at a
party, but very cross, and, as usual when in that frame of mind, he
vented his ill-humour on the English.

"Where have you been to-night, Mr. Slick?"

"Jist where the English hosses will be," he replied, "when Old Clay
comes here to this country;--no where. I have been on a stair-case,
that's where I have been; and a pretty place to see company in, ain't
it? I have been jammed to death in an entry, and what's wus than all, I
have given one gall a black eye with my elbow, tore another one's frock
off with my buttons, and near about cut a third one's leg in two with my
hat. Pretty well for one night's work, ain't it? and for me too, that's
so fond of the dear little critturs, I wouldn't hurt a hair of their
head, if I could help it, to save my soul alive. What a spot o' work!

"What the plague do people mean here by askin' a mob to their house,
and invitin' twice as many as can get into it? If they think it's
complimental, they are infarnally mistaken, that's all: it's an insult
and nothin' else, makin' a fool of a body that way. Heavens and airth! I
am wringing wet! I'm ready to faint! Where's the key of your cellaret? I
want some brandy and water. I'm dead; bury me quick, for I won't be
nice directly. Oh dear! how that lean gall hurt me! How horrid sharp her
bones are!

"I wish to goodness you'd go to a Swoi-ree oncet, Squire, jist oncet--a
grand let off, one that's upper crust and rael jam. It's worth seein'
oncet jist as a show, I tell _you_, for you have no more notion of it
than a child. All Halifax, if it was swept up clean and shook out into a
room, wouldn't make one swoi-ree. I have been to three to night, and all
on 'em was mobs--regular mobs. The English are horrid fond of mobs, and
I wonder at it too; for of all the cowardly, miserable, scarry mobs,
that ever was seen in this blessed world, the English is the wust.
Two dragoons will clear a whole street as quick as wink, any time. The
instant they see 'em, they jist run like a flock of sheep afore a couple
of bull dogs, and slope off properly skeered. Lawful heart, I wish
they'd send for a dragoon, all booted, and spurred, and mounted, and let
him gallop into a swoi-ree, and charge the mob there. He'd clear 'em out
_I_ know, double quick: he'd chase one quarter of 'em down stairs head
over heels, and another