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Updated: May 2, 2025
The card must have been lost from the Judge's vest-pocket in his preliminary attempt to gain access by the main entrance of the house. Though well soaked with rain, it was still partially legible. "Look here; Dixey!" cried the man. "This has something to do with Judge Pyncheon. See! here's his name printed on it; and here, I suppose, is some of his handwriting."
If you choose to call it luck, it is all very well; but if we are to take it as the will of Providence, why, I can't exactly fathom it!" "Pretty good business!" quoth the sagacious Dixey, "pretty good business!"
Lovaina had occasionally called me Dixey, and had explained that I was the "perfec' im'ge" of a man of that name, and that he owned a little cutter which traded to Raiaroa, on which atoll he lived. I walked like him, was of the same size, and had the "same kin' funny face."
"I never thought she'd make it go," remarked his friend. "This business of cent-shops is overdone among the women-folks. My wife tried it, and lost five dollars on her outlay!" "Poor business!" said Dixey, shaking his head. "Poor business!" In the course of the morning, there were various other attempts to open a communication with the supposed inhabitants of this silent and impenetrable mansion.
If Henry Dixey, the handsome actor, whose legs made his fame before he might attest his head's capacity, were expanded to the proportions of Muldoon, the wrestler, he might have been Landers.
"Poor business!" responded Dixey, in a tone as if he were shaking his head, "poor business." For some reason or other, not very easy to analyze, there had hardly been so bitter a pang in all her previous misery about the matter as what thrilled Hepzibah's heart on overhearing the above conversation.
"How can it be?" are the questions Admiral Dewey asks when told that the American people, without exception, rejoice to celebrate him that if one of the men known to have been with him May 1st should be found out in any American theater he would be taken on the stage by an irresistible call and a muscular committee of enthusiasts, and the play could not go on without "a few words" and the "Star Spangled Banner," "Hail Columbia," "Yankee Doodle," "Dixey" and "My Country, 'tis of Thee"; that the hallelujah note would be struck; that cars are chalked "for Deweyville"; that the board fences have his name written, or painted, or whittled on them; that there are Dewey cigars; that blacksmith-shops have the name Dewey scratched on them, also barn doors; and that if there are two dwelling-houses and a stable at a cross-roads it is Deweyville, or Deweyburg or Deweytown; that there is a flood of boy babies named Dewey, that the girls sing of him, and the ladies all admire him and the widows love him, and the school children adore him.
We had a very jolly talk and I enjoyed it immensely, not only myself but all the surrounding populace, as Dixey would persist in showing the youthful some new "gag," and would break into a clog or dialect much to the delectation of the admiring Bostonians. I am stranded here for to night and will push on to Newport to-morrow.
Old Maid Pyncheon is setting up a cent-shop!" "Will she make it go, think you, Dixey?" said his friend. "I don't call it a very good stand. There's another shop just round the corner." "Make it go!" cried Dixey, with a most contemptuous expression, as if the very idea were impossible to be conceived. "Not a bit of it!
Come and get something to eat. It's hungry you ought to be, the day, after the way you've been walking all over the country on horseback and an empty stomach. Try this, as a sample of your dinner, and sit down by the edge of the fire, whilst, and tell me how it tastes." The iron spoon scraped lustily over the iron dixey. Then Weldon returned them both with a low bow.
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