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Updated: June 7, 2025
Say, I kin see dat ole' fiah place wid de big logs a burnin' right now; uh, an' smell dat good cookin', all dun in iron pots an' skillets. An' all de cookin' an' heatin' wuz dun by wood, why I nebber seed a lump o' coal all time I wuz der. We all had to cut so much wood an' pile it up two weeks 'for Christmas, an' den when ouah pile wuz cut, den ouah wurk wuz dun, so we'd jes' hav good time."
All ye got ter do is just put them two gurls on an' ride away. Yer don't never need ter speak ter 'em. Yer understand? All right, then; hav' anuther drink." I shook my head. "But how'm I goin' ter git ter this place whatever it's called?" "Thar ain't no trouble 'bout thet; all yer got ter do is ride straight south till yer cum ter the crick, an' yer thar. It's Jenkins' Crossing yer after."
"'Bout six feet high, I reckon, with a big hooked nose, an' the blackest pair o' mean eyes ever yer saw. I reckon he didn't hav' no eyebrows, an' he wore a bunch o' eagle feathers, an' a red blanket. Gosh' Mister, but the Devil cudn't look no worse'n he did." "Wus thet him, Cap?" burst in Tim, anxiously. "It's not a bad description," I admitted, yet not convinced.
I kin stan' it fer ter be up all night, but Bill wus tellin' me we might hav' som' trouble down ter the Landin' unless we finished up our job yere afore mornin'." "Oh, I reckon not; whut was it Bill said?" "Quite a rigmarole frum furst ter last. Giv' me a light fer the pipe, will yer?"
Meanwhile said world continners to resolve round on her own axletree onct in every 24 hours, subjeck to the Constitution of the United States, and is a very plesant place of residence. It's a unnatral, onreasonable and dismal life you're leadin here. So it strikes me. My Shaker frends, I now bid you a welcome adoo. You hav treated me exceedin well. Thank you kindly, one and all.
Letty-Lou, she don' hav' to git her a pay-work job, her pappy mak's him a good livin'. But Miss 'Chanda ain' a-goin' to tak' keer dis big hous' all by herself wit' her lil' han's dere. We's Ralestone folks. Letty-Lou, yo' gits on youah ap'on an' gits to work." "But we can't let her," Ricky raised her last protest. "Miss 'Chanda, we's Ralestone folks.
"Haven't swallowed much water, I hope?" "No, no," said Winklemann faintly; "mine lunks, I do tink, are free of vatter, but mine lecks are stranchly qveer. I hav no lecks at all! 'Pears as if I vas stop short at zee vaist!" Herr Winklemann said no more, but was swiftly borne, in a state of semi-consciousness, to his friends on the Little Mountain.
"I haint gut enny," sed I "not a prinserpul. Ime in the show biznis." The man in black close, I will hear obsarve, seemed to be as fine a man as ever was in the wurld. "But," sez he, "you hav feelins into you? You cimpathize with the misfortunit, the loly & the hart-sick, don't you?"
In writin about these things, Mr. Editer, kinder smooth em over. Speak of 'em as eccentrissities of gen'us. My next ventur would hav bin a success if I hadn't tried to do too much. I got up a series of wax figgers, and among others one of Socrates.
"Guess I'll get him to build me a musical fence," remarked a third, "only I'll hav' 'Home, Sweet Home, cuz that's Samanthy's favorite tune." "He might fence in the meetin'-house with 'Old Hundred," suggested Deacon Mullen. But the novelty soon wore away and Miss French began to tire of the ceaseless repetition.
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