"
Hereupon ensued long narratives from both parties, which occupied the
greater part of the morning.
Mr. Garie, on leaving the house, slowly wended his way to the residence of
Mr. Walters. As he passed into the lower part of the city, his attention
was arrested by the number of coloured children he saw skipping merrily
along with their bags of books on their arms.
"This," said he to himself, "don't much resemble Georgia."[*]
[Footnote *: It is a penal offence in Georgia to teach coloured children to
read.]
After walking some distance he took out a card, and read, 257,
Easton-street; and on inquiry found himself in the very street. He
proceeded to inspect the numbers, and was quite perplexed by their
confusion and irregularity.
A coloured boy happening to pass at the time, he asked him: "Which way do
the numbers run, my little man?"
The boy looked up waggishly, and replied: "They don't run at all; they are
permanently affixed to each door."
"But," said Mr. Garie, half-provoked, yet compelled to smile at the boy's
pompous wit, "you know what I mean; I cannot find the number I wish; the
street is not correctly numbered."
"The street is not numbered at all," rejoined the boy, "but the houses
are," and he skipped lightly away.
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