The Governor took a quill and wrote a line to a city official, introducing Mr.
Poquelin, and asking for him every possible courtesy.

He handed it to him, instructing him where to present it.
"Mr.Poquelin," he said with a conciliatory smile, "tell me, is it your house that our Creole citizens tell such odd stories about ?" The old man glared sternly upon the speaker, and with immovable features said: "You don't see me trade some Guinea nigga' ?" "Oh, no." "You don't see me make some smuggling" "No, sir; not at all." "But, I am Jean Marie Poquelin.

I mine me hown bizniss.

Dat all right?
Adieu." He put his hat on and withdrew.

By and by he stood, letter in hand, before the person to whom it was addressed.