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Updated: June 25, 2025
He'd been mysterious as a baker's mince pie ever sence we started, hintin' at somethin' he'd got to do when we'd got to New York. And now he out with it. "'Barzilla, he says, 'I ain't sayin' but what I'd like to go to the wharves with you, first rate. And we will go, too. But afore we do anything else I've got an errand that must be attended to.
"Yes," chimed in his fellow "hireling," "and we thought the pleasantest place to put in our few remainin' hours as the papers say when a feller's goin' to be hung was with you." "I thought so," said Captain Bailey, with a wink. "We've been havin' more or less of an argument, Sol. Remember how Barzilla made fun of Jonadab Wixon for believin' in dreams? Yes, well that was only make believe.
"Sometimes when Dusenberry gets to cuttin' up and she is sort of provoked, I say to her, 'Old lady, I say, 'if you think THAT'S a naughty boy, you ought to have seen Archibald." "Who was Archibald?" asked Barzilla. "He was a young rip that Sim Phinney and I run across four years ago when we went on our New York cruise together.
If Barzilla was like most men, he'd have some dis-CIP-line in the house; but no, I have to do it all, and " Mr. Small, thus publicly rebuked, rose from his seat in the corner by the melodeon and proclaimed in a voice that he tried hard not to make apologetic: "Now, Luther, if I was you I'd be a good boy and mind ma."
And we don't need him anyhow; no more'n a cat needs three tails. Why " But he was back at me before I could wink. "Need him?" he says. "Why, Barzilla, we need him more than the old Harry needs a conscience. Take a bird's-eye view of him! Size him up! He puts all the rest of the Greek statues ten miles in the shade.
"Hello, Phil!" he yells, rounding his flat-iron into the wind abreast of ours and bobbing his night-cap. "I hoped you might be out. Are you game for a race?" "Archie," answers our skipper, solemn as a setting hen, "permit me to introduce to you Cap'n Jonadab Wixon and Admiral Barzilla Wingate, of Orham, on the Cape."
And of all the imps of darkness that ever "'S-sh-sh! he interrupted solemn. 'Don't say that now, Barzilla. Sounds kind of irreverent. Well, me and old Pat was pretty friendly, in a way, though he did owe me rent.
He was a Wall Street "bear," and a steady diet of lamb with mint sass had fetched him to where the doctors said 'twas lay off for two months or be laid out for keeps. "And I've fixed it that he's to stop at your house, Barzilla," crows Jonadab. "And when he sees Mabel well, you know what she's done to the other men folks," he says.
"Ain't Betsy Higgins feedin' you up to the mark?" asked Stitt. "Or is house movin' gettin' on your vitals?" "No," growled the depot master, "grub's all right and so's movin', I cal'late. I'm glad you fellers come in. What's the news to Orham, Barzilla? How's the Old Home House boarders standin' it? Hear from Jonadab regular, do you?" Mr. Wingate laughed. "Nothin' much," he said.
We'd look in the directory. That seemed to have a glimmer of sense somewheres in its neighborhood, so we found an apothecary store and the clerk handed us out a book once again as big as a church Bible. "'Kelly, says Jonadab. 'Yes, here 'tis. Now, "James Kelly." Land of Love! Barzilla, look here.
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