Then he vaunted the good temperature, the clement climate, the eternally smiling seasons. There were no visitors, no tempests to disconcert the foresight of the farmer and ruin his crops.
There, work was a diversion; there were no landlords, no masters, no cares; no servitude and no rent.
Alternately tender and sportive, the impostor absolutely intoxicated his audience. To the pomp of a florid description, to the hyperboles of a dentist, the instrument of the dealers in souls added the wit of the street-corner; he spiced his eloquence with the gross jests of the peasantry; he flattered the weaknesses, kindled the brutal sensuality, fed the carnal desires of these shameless lovers, conjured up willing subjects for a frenzied passion excited by prolonged continence. The bumpkins were tempted, as they listened, drythroated, quivering, to the smutty visions, harassed and quickened by the subtle viciousness and perverse ribaldry of this rogue, as scaly as any siren.
Finally, as a last resort, the procurer proposed to read letters from those adventurers who had tried and gained fortune in the promised land:
"Ah! they are as authentic as the Evangel, these epistles! Look them over yourself, schoolmaster; you can read! See the postmark on the letter … And these stamps, these "little heads," as you call them, do not bear the features of our king 'Liapol!' Why don't you read them, schoolmaster? Fm not trying to force you into believing them! Here is what I've told you, in black and white!"
The letters flowed with coarse eulogy, dictated in Europe or elaborated in the facendas of the purveyors across the sea. The collusion would have undeceived more lettered listeners.
