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Updated: June 11, 2025
I looked at him with a curious, silent sort of a look; for I didn't know what he meant. Agin he looked close at me, and sort o' pityin'; and says he, "You look tired out, mom. Won't you take something?" Says I, "What?" Says he, "Let me treat you to something: what will you take, mom?" Wall, I thought he was actin' dretful liberal; but I knew they had strange ways there in Washington, anyway.
Suppose ye'er time has come. Th' fam'ly ar-re busy with their own thoughts, grievin' because they hadn't been as good to ye as they might, because they won't have ye with thim anny more, because it's too late f'r thim to square thimsilves, pityin' ye because ye'er not remainin' to share their sorrows with thim, wondhrin' whether th' black dhresses that were bought in honor iv what people might have said if they hadn't worn thim in mimry iv Aunt Eliza, wud be noticed if they were worn again f'r ye.
He's off, long ago." "I believe I'm done for," said Tom. "The cussed sneaking dog, to leave me to die alone! My poor old mother always told me 't would be so." "La sakes! jist hear the poor crittur. He's got a mammy, now," said the old negress. "I can't help kinder pityin' on him." "Softly, softly; don't thee snap and snarl, friend," said Phineas, as Tom winced and pushed his hand away.
And 'tennyrate they're here, the problem that lays so heavy on the Southern and Northern heart and conscience and the riddle gits harder and harder to solve. The lurid blaze of livin' torches makes bloody blindness in the eyes of them that look on and light them fires. The disgraceful glare flames out, shamin' you in the eyes of the world, and streams up to the pityin' heavens askin' for justice.
"Thankful, I've come to care for you more'n anything else in the world. I don't pity you. I've been pityin' myself for the last month because I couldn't have you just you. I want you, Thankful Barnes, and if you'll marry me I'll be the happiest critter that walks." "Oh, Obed, don't make it so hard for me. You said you wouldn't. And and you can't care really." "I can't! Do you care for me?
And my pardner jest turned on his tracks, and disappeared round the buildin'. A bystander who wuz a-standin' by spoke up and sez: "That is Governor Markham, of California." "Why'ee!" sez I, "is that so?" and then the thought come to me that the pityin' Providence that had removed Senator Stanford from my encouragement, and warnin', had throwed this man in my way.
Innocent youth changed to reckless wickedness, noble manhood turned to brutes falling from honorable places in society down into drunkards' loathsome lives, drunkards' dishonored graves. How could these pityin' sperits help weepin' over it?
Can't you see the poor feller's agonizin' in every line of that letter?" "POOR feller! Good Lord above, Zoeth Hamilton, you ain't pityin' HIM, are you? You ain't sorry for him YOU?" Zoeth nodded. "I wan't at first," he said. "At first the whole thing, comin' on me out of a clear sky as you might say, knocked me flat. The doctor, when he came, said he thought I must have had a sudden shock.
Everybody is gettin' wise to Silent, an' the rest of you. Pretty soon hell's goin' to bust loose. "'You've been sayin' that for two years, says I. "He stopped an' looked at me sort of thoughtful an' pityin'. Then he steps up close to me an' whispers in that voice: 'D'you know who's on Silent's trail now? Eh? "'No, an' I don't give a damn, says I, free an' careless. "'Tex Calder! says he."
'Taint nothin' I want to do, and you ort to know it." And I says in pityin' axents but firm, "If you don't want to, Josiah, I wouldn't, fashion or no fashion." But I see I couldn't convince him, and there happened to be a skercity of men jest then and he kep' it up, and it kep' me on the key veav, as Maggie says, when she is on the tenter hooks of suspense.
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