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Updated: May 14, 2025
About a mile from Clayton he sank down by the road. "Say, Ricks," he said abruptly; "I'm after quittin' peddlin'." "What you goin' to do?" "I'm goin' to school." If Sandy had announced his intention of putting on baby clothes and being wheeled in a perambulator, Ricks could not have been more astonished. "What?" he asked in genuine doubt.
If to peddlin' 'twould be best; if to s'archin' fer one old blind man in this big Ne' York what's full of 'em as haymows o' needles, so be it, an' good luck to ye. But what am I to be preachin' work an' practicin' play? Off with ye an' hender me no more!"
The sudden acquisition of ten dollars cast him into a whirlpool of temptation from which he made little effort to escape. "I ain't goin' on to-day," announced Ricks. "I'm goin' to lay in my goods for peddlin'. I reckon you kin come along of me." Sandy accepted a long and strong cigar, tilted his hat, and unconsciously caught Ricks's slouching gait as they went down the street.
"What's the matter with that, Skyrider? Kain't I make up po'try if I want to?" "Sure. Help yourself you poor fish. Vollup! Hunh!" The contempt was even more pronounced than before. "Well? What's the matter with that? You said it yourself. And look out how you go peddlin' names around here. You think nobody knows anything but you!
If it 'adn't been for Eve I might ha' been livin' on milk an' 'oney, ah! an' playin' wi' butterflies, 'stead o' bein' married, an' peddlin' these 'ere brooms. Don't talk to me o' women, my chap; I can't abide 'em bah! if theer's any trouble afoot you may take your Bible oath as theer's a woman about some'eres theer allus is!" "Do you think so?"
Like myself jest let me stan' up afore this here tub an' the wash begins to do itself, unbeknownst like. Don't you idle. Keep peddlin' er patchin', though peddlin's the least lonesome, an' the time'll fly like lightnin'. It's them 'at don't do nothin' 'at don't know what to do. Ain't many them sort in the Lane, though, thank the dear Lord. Hey? What?"
"Don't be afraid now," said he, grinning again, "Queequeg here wouldn't harm a hair of your head." "Stop your grinning," shouted I, "and why didn't you tell me that that infernal harpooneer was a cannibal?" "I thought ye know'd it; didn't I tell ye, he was a peddlin' heads around town? but turn flukes again and go to sleep.
A snub-nosed, freckle-faced boy came along whistling, and beating the dust of the road with a long switch. "Which is the road to Rockford, little boy?" asked Betty. "Huh?" "I say, which is the road to Rockford?" "Give him a candy if you have any left, Grace," suggested Mollie, in a low tone. "Are you folks peddlin' candy?" asked the boy, and his eyes shone. "No, but we have some," answered Betty.
Nine year' back you went to sea in the John S. Hancock, an' was wrecked off the Leeward Isles an' cast up on a spit o' rock. I'd been hangin' about New Orleens, just then, at a loose end, an' bein' in want o' cash, took a scamper in the Shawanee, a dirty tramp of a schooner knockin' in an' out and peddlin' notions among the West Indy Islanders.
"A man was drivin' across the moor peddlin'," Martha explained. "An' he stopped his cart at our door. He had pots an' pans an' odds an' ends, but mother had no money to buy anythin'. Just as he was goin' away our 'Lizabeth Ellen called out, 'Mother, he's got skippin'-ropes with red an' blue handles. An' mother she calls out quite sudden, 'Here, stop, mister!
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