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Updated: May 21, 2025
There was a little man and he had a little gun, And the bullets were made of lead, lead, lead. He went to the brook and shot a little duck, And the bullet went right through its head, head, head. There was once a little man named Jimson, who had stopped growing when he was a boy, and never started again.
Celeus and Carolina caterpillars come the nearest being pests of those of any large moths, because they feed on tomato, potato, and tobacco, but they also eat jimson weed, ground cherry, and several vines that are of no use to average folk. The Carolina moths come from their pupa cases as featherweights step into the sparring.
It was October weather; the stone-grey sky was full of larks, the leaden mirror of the Thames brightened with autumnal foliage, and the fallen leaves of the chestnuts chirped under the composer's footing. There is no time of the year in England more courageous; and Jimson, though he was not without his troubles, whistled as he went. A little above Padwick the river lies very solitary.
But when I entered the hall Madam Cavendish, having sent away the slaves, even to the little wench who had been fanning her, with verily I believe no more of consciousness as to what was going on about her than a Jimson weed by the highway, called me to her in a voice so tremulous that I scarce knew it for hers. "Harry, Harry," she said, "I pray thee, come here."
"By Jove, I'll do it," cried Gideon. "Jimson is the boy!" Mr. Edward Hugh Bloomfield having announced his intention to stay in the neighbourhood of Maidenhead, what more probable than that the Maëstro Jimson should turn his mind toward Padwick? Near this pleasant river-side village he remembered to have observed an ancient, weedy houseboat lying moored beside a tuft of willows.
Jimson and Colin practically were going as members of the crew, the two men, whose places they were taking, staying home from the trip. Long before sunrise the following morning they were up, and by daybreak the schooner was standing out of the harbor for Block Island, one of the famous haunts of the swordfish.
"Jimson, you 'd better use bullets made of bread, and then you won't hurt anything." "Nonsense, Joan," replied the little man, "I shall have bullets made of lead, just as other men do, and every duck I see I shall shoot and bring home to you." "I 'm afraid you won't kill many," said Joan.
They have planted him deep in a grave by the fence, where the sand burs are thick and the jimson is dense; he's sleeping at last, and as still as a mouse, held down by a boulder as big as a house, and the whangdoodle mourns in a neighboring tree, with a voice that's as sad as the sorrowing sea.
"If I hadn't 'a' been robbed I wouldn't 'a' come here I never'd met Merry. Thunder and jimson root! Wasn't that a narrow escape?" And then he laughed so heartily that the girl looked out of the window again to see what in the world he was doing. He had his hat in his hand and was whacking his thigh with it. "Lyman Gilman, what in the world ails you to-day?
The rent was almost nominal, the entry immediate, the key was exchanged against a suitable advance in money, and Jimson returned to town by the afternoon train to see about despatching his piano. "I will be down to-morrow," he had said reassuringly. "My opera is waited for with such impatience, you know."
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