be shot at, by any of their inimies that might happen to be jogging along our road.  Then, squire, it is generally consaited among us in Ameriky, that we speak much the best English a-going; and sure am I, that none on us call a ‘hog’ an ‘’og,’ an ‘anchor’ a ‘hanchor,’ or a ‘horse’ an ‘’orse.’  What is thought of that matter in this part of the world, Signor Squire?”

“We are not critics in your language, but it is reasonable to suppose that the English speak their own tongue better than any other people.  That much must be conceded to them, at least, Signor Bolto.”

“I shall acknowledge no such advantage as belonging to them.  I have not been to school for nothing; not I. The English call c-l-e-r-k, clark; and c-u-c-u-m-b-e-r, cowcumber; and a-n-g-e-l, aingel; and no reasoning can convince me that’s right.  I’ve got a string of words of this sort, that they pronounce out of all reason, that’s as long as a pair of leading-lines, or a ship’s tiller-rope.  You must know, Signor Squire, I kept school in the early part of my life.”

“Non e possible!” exclaimed the vice-governatore, astonishment actually getting the better of his habitual good breeding; “you must mean, Signor Americano, that you gave lessons in the art of rigging and sailing luggers.”

“You never was more mistaken, Signore.  I taught on the general system, all sorts of things in the edication way; and had one of my scholars made such a blunder as to say ‘clark,’ or ‘aingel,’ or ‘harth,’ or ‘cowcumber,’ he wouldn’t have heard the last of it, for that week, at least.  But I despise an Englishman from the very bottom of my soul; for heart isn’t deep enough for my feelings.”

Absurd as Ithuel’s critical dissertations must appear to all who have any familiarity with real English, they were not greatly below many criticisms on the same subject that often illustrate the ephemeral literature of the country; and, in his last speech, he had made a provincial use of the word “despise,” that is getting to be so common as almost to supplant the true signification.  By “despising,” Ithuel meant that he “hated”; the passion, perhaps, of all others, the most removed from the feeling described by the word he had used, inasmuch as it is not easy to elevate those for whom we have a contempt, to the level necessary to be hated.

“Notwithstanding, the Inglese are not a despicable people,” answered Andrea, who was obliged to take the stranger literally, since he knew nothing of his provincial use of terms; “for a nation of the north, they have done marvellous things of late years, especially on the ocean.”