Gonzalo. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,— Antonio. He’ld sow’t with nettle-seed. Sebastian. Or docks, or mallows.

“Let me have some whisky—hot, with;—and don't stand there looking at nothing.”

The self-described “race realist” is unrepentant in embracing the label and expounding his views.

It was not Johnny's fees but the drummers passing through with their lines of dry goods and notions, it was the occasional cattle-buyer who stopped for the night and took a meal—it was they who paid the bills.