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Updated: May 7, 2025
She's been took away, an' we might as well look for her in one place as another. The perlice tells us that if she's found here, they'll know it fust, an' they'll telegraph to us wherever we is; an' if it wasn't fur nuthin' else, it would be a mercy to git Jone out of this place. He goes about like a cat after her drowned kittens.
Li peus jone dérit a s'père etc. LILLE. Jesus leu dit incore: un homme avot deux garchens. L'pus jeune dit
'ow I am lucky! the money I los', it was not mine, anyhow! My faith! shall a man make hisse'f to be the more sorry because the money he los' is not his? Me, I would say, 'it is a specious providence. "Ah! Misty Posson Jone'," he continued, "you make a so droll sermon ad the bull-ring. Ha! ha! I swear I thing you can make money to preach thad sermon many time ad the theatre St. Philippe.
"'The fust thing I thinks is, that you've got on the nicest suit of clothes that I've ever seed yit, not bein' exactly Sunday clothes, and yit fit for company, an' if money can buy 'em an' men's clothes is cheap enough here, dear only knows I'm goin' to have a suit jus' like it for Jone, my husband. It was a kind o' brown mixed stuff, with a little spot of red in it here an' there, an' was about as gay for plain goods, an' as plain for gay goods, as anythin' could be, an' 'twas easy enough to see that it was all wool.
Rilligion is a very strange; I know a man one time, he thing it was wrong to go to cock-fight Sunday evening. I thing it is all 'abit. Mais, come, Posson Jone'; I have got one friend, Miguel; led us go at his house and ged some coffee. Come; Miguel have no familie; only him and Joe always like to see friend; allons, led us come yonder."
Hah! you is the moz brave dat I never see, mais ad the same time the moz rilligious man. Where I'm goin' to fin' one priest to make like dat? Mais, why you can't cheer up an' be 'appy? Me, if I should be miserabl' like that I would kill meself." The countryman only shook his head. "Bien, Posson Jone', I have the so good news for you." The prisoner looked up with eager inquiry.
He gouged a little piece out of Chaucer's tomb, an' as we went home we bought a copy of the old gentleman's poems, so as we could see what reason there was for keepin' him so long, an' at night I read Jone two of the Canterbury Tales. 'You wouldn't 'a' thought, says Jone, 'jus' by lookin' at that little piece of plaster, that the old fellow could 'a' got up such stories as them."
"You see, Jools, every man has his conscience to guide him, which it does so in" "Oh, yes!" cried St.-Ange, "conscien'; thad is the bez, Posson Jone'. Certainlee!
"Goin' to de dev'," said the sweetly-smiling young man. The schooner-captain, leaning against the shrouds, and even Baptiste, laughed outright. "O Jools, you mustn't!" "Well, den, w'at I shall do wid IT?" "Any thing!" answered the parson; "better donate it away to some poor man " "Ah! Misty Posson Jone', dat is w'at I want. You los' five hondred dollar' 'twas me fault." "No, it wa'n't, Jools."
'You know very well you did, an' now I'd like to know where my ox-money is to come from. But Jone an' me didn't intend to wait for no sich talk as this, an' he tuk the man by the arm, and I tuk the old woman, an' we jus' walked 'em off. The boarder he told the loafers to get out an' go home, an' none of 'em follered us, for they know'd if they did he'd a batted 'em over the head.
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