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"Yes, twenty-five thousand at interest to keep up the establishment." "Yass. Den if Pastropbon go first to dat boneyard " And out went his thumb again, while his hairy lip curled at the grim prospect of beating Fate the second time, and as badly, in the cemetery, as the first time, in the lottery. He built the house farther down town and much farther from the river.
"You keep dat? lill' while? for me? Yass; till I mek out how I goin' to spend her." "Manouvrier, may I make one condition?" "Yass." "It is that you will never play the lottery again." "Ah! Yass, I play her ag'in! You want know whan ole Pastropbon play her ag'in? One doze fine mawning mebbee dat sun going rise hisself in de wes'. Well: when ole Pastropbon see dat, he play dat lott'ree ag'in.
Ah, doze make only Pas-Trop-Bon." I appealed to his wife; but she, with her placid laugh, would only confirm him: "Yass; Pastropbon; he like that name. Tha's all de way I call him Pastropbon." The hummingbird was ready for me. I will not try to tell how lifelike and beautiful the artist had made it. Even with him I took pains to be somewhat reserved.
You dunno dat lill' 'ouse where de Sister' keep dose orphelin' ba-bee'?-juz big-inning sinse 'bout two week' ago?-round de corner one square mo' down town 'alf square mo' nearer de swamp? Well, I thing 'f you pass yondeh you fine Pastropbon." Through smoke, under falling cinders, and by distracted and fleeing households I went. The moment I turned the second corner I espied the house.
"Nut'n'." "Oh, my friend," I laughed, "that's absurd!" But he had no reply, and his wife, as she resumed her sewing, said, sweetly, as if to her needle, "Ah, I think Pastropbon don't got to charge nut'n' if he don't feel like." And I could not move them. As I was leaving them, a sudden conjecture came to me. "Did those birthday numbers bring you any luck?"
"Ah! Pastropbon, we got ba-bee' enough presently, en't it?" "Ole woman, nobody else ever strock dat lott'ree for such a prize like dat." The Entomologist An odd feature of New Orleans is the way homes of all ranks, in so many sections of it, are mingled. The easy, bright democracy of the thing is what one might fancy of ancient Greeks; only, here there is a general wooden frailty.
Scarcely ten days after, as I sat at breakfast with my newspaper spread beside my plate, I fairly spilled my coffee as my eye fell upon the name of P.T.B. Manouvrier, of No. St. Peter Street. Old Pastropbon had drawn seventy-five thousand dollars in the lottery.
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