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Updated: June 27, 2025
"Gol darn it all!" said Captain Pharo, making an unsuccessful attempt to light his pipe, and kicking out his left leg testily. "'Afore ye gits to lookin' any meachiner, says she. "'When I dies, says I, 'th' inscription on my monniment won't be by no drowndin', says I; 'it'll be jest plain, "Pestered ter death," says I.
Uncle Coffin gave me an irresistible but a loving and true, not a malicious, wink. "Speakin' o' women folks, Leezur," said he, "is there any news from Lot's wife?" Captain Leezur cleared the mellow symphonies of those organs through which he intoned his speech; and was about to reply, fully and sweetly, when Captain Pharo made his appearance at the door.
"I hadn't observed any lack of increase in your amiable race, sir." "Ye hadn't, hadn't yer?" said Captain Pharo, in the voice of a smouldering volcano, laying a fresh match to his pipe. "Moderation," liquidly pealed in the voice of Captain Leezur "moderation 's the rewl "
"Dodrabbit ye, Pharo!" cried a voice from the fondest of the Artichokes, seizing him with an exultant pride which he affected to hide under derogatory language; "was that you I seen in there jest now, stompin' the frescoes off'n the ceilin'?"
"No, ye can't dance 'The Wracker's Darter, that is, not as she orter be danced, in felts," said Captain Pharo; "she 's a tune 't wants the emphasis brought right down onto her; felts won't do it, nor scuffs neither."
"Look at that, Coffin," said Captain Pharo sadly; "even our lobsters is dry!" "Wal, I'm cert'nly glad now," said Mrs. Lester, surveying the bottom of her gown, "'t I didn't wear my dead-lustre silk." "Why so, Mis' Lester; why so?" said Uncle Coffin, performing a waltz with the small remaining contents of the buttermilk jug.
"Drink!" said Uncle Coffin. All his former levity was gone. He had the look of bestowing, and Captain Pharo of witnessing bestowed, upon another, a boon inestimable, priceless, rare. A temperate familiarity with the use of the cup informed me at once of the nature of this liquid. It was whiskey of a very vile quality.
It was my old cow that died." "Give me sea-room here, by clam!" muttered Captain Pharo, shooting his arms about. "Ef I b'lieved in gho's, I sh'd say 't your but'ry was harnted, Jane," came from the kitchen the solemn and shifty voice of the Man-Who-had-Been-in-California: "le's step around by the outside way to the door whar the folks is.
"Come, git up," said Captain Pharo, at the sound, applying the lap of the reins to the horse; "ye've never got us anywheres yet in time to hear 'Amen'! Thar 's no need o' yer shyin' at them spiles, ye darned old fool! Ye hauled 'em thar yourself, yesterday. Poo! poo! Hohum! Wal wal never mind Git up!"
Captain Pharo and Captain Shamgar were finishing a game of croquet with the one set of those implements which the Basin possessed, dedicated for Sundays, and to the school-house yard, as being dimly understood to be a sort of Sabbatical pastime. Their voices pealed in with unconscious vigor through the open windows: "Did ye shove her through the wire, Pharo?"
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