He looked around for some one to accost, and
felt aggrieved at finding no available victim. Finally, in great depth of
spirits, and anxious for a temporary shelter from the all-penetrating
moisture, he wandered into a saloon of inviting appearance, and sought the
national consolation,--Oysters.
While he was accumulating his appetite, a stranger entered the same stall,
and dropped, with a smile and a nod, upon the opposite seat. "I wouldn't
intrude, Sir," he said, "but every other place is filled. It's wonderful
how Boston gives itself up to oysters on Saturday nights,--all other sorts
of rational enjoyment being legally prohibited."
Lorrimer welcomed the stranger, and, delighted at the opportunity of a bit
of discussion, and still cherishing the malignant desire to injure
somebody's feelings in the matter of the Common, opened a conversation by
asking if Boston were really much given to bivalvular excesses.
The stranger, who was a strongly built and rough-visaged man, with nothing
specially attractive about him, except a humorous and fascinating
eye-twinkle, straightened himself, and delivered a short oration.
"Bless me, Sir!" said he, "are you a foreigner? Why, oysters are the
universal bond of brotherhood, not only in Boston, but throughout this
land. They harmonize with our sharp, wide-awake spirit. They are an element
in our politics. Our statesmen, legislators, and high-placed men,
generally, are weaned on them. Why, dear me! oysters are a fundamental idea
in our social system.
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