"Yes, sair;" pleasantly responded the Frenchman, "a little."
"You got a hoss, eh?" continued the landlord.
"Yes, sair, I vish ze hostlair to give mine hoss plenty to eat--plenty hay, plenty oats, plenty watair, sair."
"Yaw," responded the landlord, "den, Jacob, give'm der oats, and der hay, and der water;" and, with this brief direction to his subordinate, the landlord turned away from the way-worn traveller to resume his conversation with his more, apparently, influential friends. The old Frenchman very patiently waited until the discussion should cease, and the landlord's ear be disengaged, that he might be apprized of the fact that travellers had stomachs, and that of the old French gentleman was highly _incensed_ by long delay, and more particularly by the odorous fumes of roast fowls, ham and eggs, &c., issuing from the inner portion of the tavern.
"Landlord, I vil take suppair, if you please," said he.
"Yaw; after dese gentlemans shall eat der suppers, den somesing will be prepared for you."
"Sair!" said the old Frenchman, firing up; "I vill not vait for ze shentilmen; I vant my suppair now, directly--right away; I not vait for nobody, sair!"
"If you no like 'em, den you go off, out mine house," answered the old sour krout, "you old barber!"
"Bar-bair!" gasped the old Frenchman, in suppressed rage. "Sair, I vill go no where, I vill stay here so long, by gar, as--as--as I please, sair!"
"Are you aware, sir," interposed the legal gentleman, "that you are rendering gross and offensive, malicious and libellous, scandalous and burglarious language to this gentleman, in his own domicile, with malice prepense and aforethought, and a ----"
"Pooh! pooh! _pooh!_ for you, sair!" testily replied the Frenchman.
"Pooh? To me, sir? _Me, sir?_" bullyingly echoed Blackstone.
"Yes, sair--pooh--_pooh!_ von geese, sair!"
It were vain to try to depict the rage of wounded pride, the insolence of a travelling _barber_ had stirred up in the very face of the man of law, logic, and legal lore. He swelled up, blowed and strutted about like a _miffed_ gobbler in a barn yard! He tried to cork down his rage, but it bursted forth--
"You--you--you infernal old frog-eating, soap and lather, you--you--you smoke-dried, one-eyed,* poor old wretch, you, if it wasn't for pity's sake, I'd have you taken up and put in the county jail, for vagrancy, I would, you poverty-stricken old rascal!"