Part 17 (1/2)
”Rest and refreshments,” replied the printer.
”Super and lotchin, I reckon?”
”Yes, supper and lodging, if you please.”
”Pe ye a Yankee peddler, mit chewelry in your pack, to sheat the gals?”
”No, sir, I am no Yankee peddler.”
”A singin'-master, too lazy to work?”
”No, sir.”
”A shenteel shoemaker, vat loves to measure te gals' feet and hankles petter tan to make te shoes?”
”No, sir, or I should have mended my own shoes.”
”A pook achent, vat podders te school committees till they do vat you vish, shoost to get rid of you?”
”Guess again, sir. I am no book agent.”
”Te tyfels! a dentist, preaking te people's jaws at a dollar a shnag, and running off mit my daughter?”
”No sir, I am no tooth-puller.”
”Prenologus, ten, feeling te young folks, heads like so much cabb.i.t.c.h?”
”No, I am no phrenologist.”
”Vell, ten, vat the mischief can you be? Shoost tell, and ye shall have te pest sa.s.sage for supper, and shtay all night, free gratis, mitout a cent, and a s.h.i.+ll of whiskey to start mit in te morning.”
”I am an humble disciple of Faust--a professor of the art that preserves all arts--a typographer at your service.”
”Votch dat?”
”A printer, sir: a man that prints books and newspapers.”