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Updated: June 12, 2025
There was a lady I remember, and she had a little boy and she was a widow, and after she'd buried her husband she was dreadful poor, and she was ashamed to let her little boy go out in his old shoes, and copper-toed shoes they was too, because his poor little ten toes was a coming out of 'em; and what do you think my husband's rich uncle, well, there now, it was me and my little Benjamin, as he was then, there's no use in hiding of it, and what do you think my husband's uncle sent me but a plaster of Paris image of a young woman, that was, well, her appearance wasn't respectable, and I had to take and wrap her up in a towel and poke her right into my closet, and there she stayed till she got her head broke and served her right, for she was n't fit to show folks.
After seating herself in the rocking chair, little George came into the room, when she placed the little fellow on her lap and sang to him. As the author lay there watching her, one of the child's copper-toed shoes was taken off by a ghost and thrown at him with great force, striking his head. The place struck was very sore for three or four days. The balance of the day passed quietly away.
Each pair of copper-toed shoes was placed in exactly the same spot under the foot of each cot, and each little body, after wriggling itself into a gray flannellet nightgown, dropped to its knees and bowed its head upon the blanket in silent prayer. After they had tucked themselves in bed a voice very near me, and which I recognized as Julia's, whispered: "May, are yez asleep?" "No," muttered May.
There is only the faintest image of him on the endless roll of films that has been wound through your mental camera: and in the very spots where his small figure should appear, it seems as if the pictures were always light-struck. Just a blur, and the dim outline of a new cap, or a well-beloved jacket with extra pockets, or a much-hated pair of copper-toed shoes that is all you can see.
She is out in a minute with a clipping from a newspaper and hands it over to Doctor Kirby, as proud as a kid with copper-toed boots. The doctor reads it all the way through, and then he hands it back without saying a word. The old lady goes away to fiddle around about the housework purty soon and the old man looks at the doctor and says: "Well, you see, don't you?"
Some people spin up to Methuselahs in a few years. From what I can learn of Methuselah, he never grew past copper-toed boots. He just hibernated and "chawed on." The more birthdays we have, the nearer we approach eternal youth! Bernhardt, Davis and Edison The spectacle of Sarah Bernhardt, past seventy, thrilling and gripping audiences with the fire and brilliancy of youth, is inspiring.
Then he has hob-nailed, copper-toed boots, and a hat that ties under his chin. Poor little man, he has lost his curls, too, and looks rather like a convict. Mrs. Howard came in the door while Bell was speaking, and laughed heartily at the description of Dicky's curious outfit. 'What time do you start? she asked, as she laid a bunch of mignonette on Elsie's table.
There was a lady I remember, and she had a little boy and she was a widow, and after she'd buried her husband she was dreadful poor, and she was ashamed to let her little boy go out in his old shoes, and copper-toed shoes they was too, because his poor little ten toes was a coming out of 'em; and what do you think my husband's rich uncle, well, there now, it was me and my little Benjamin, as he was then, there's no use in hiding of it, and what do you think my husband's uncle sent me but a plaster of Paris image of a young woman, that was, well, her appearance wasn't respectable, and I had to take and wrap her up in a towel and poke her right into my closet, and there she stayed till she got her head broke and served her right, for she was n't fit to show folks.
The pinafore was tucked up round the owner's waist to form a bag, in which were carried a pair of stockings and strong, copper-toed boots, three very wrinkled apples, a bunch of wilted marigolds, and a cake of maple-sugar.
On the sidewalk in front of one of the stores sat a little Swede boy, crying bitterly. He was about five years old. His black cloth coat was much too big for him and made him look like a little old man. His shrunken brown flannel dress had been washed many times and left a long stretch of stocking between the hem of his skirt and the tops of his clumsy, copper-toed shoes.
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