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Updated: May 20, 2025
On the other side of the wood they entered a meadow where a little bird was bubbling over with music in the air. "Skunk-blackbird," said the Somewhere Man; "colours the same as a skunk." "Bobolink," said the Anywhere Man; "spills his song while he flies." "It is a silly name," said the Nowhere Man. "Where did you find it?" "I don't know," answered the other; "it just sounds to me like the bird."
I like to see folks well paid that's got the patience to set in doors 'n' cram information inter young ones that don't care no more 'bout learn in' 'n' a skunk-blackbird. She give me Timothy's writin' book, for you to see what he writ in it yesterday, 'n' she hed to keep him in 't recess 'cause he didn't copy 'Go to the ant thou sluggard and be wise, as he'd oughter. Now let's see what 't is.
Bill he used to set in the singers' seats, too, and he would have it that he sung tenor. He no more sung tenor than a skunk-blackbird; but he made b'lieve he did, jest to git next to Miry in the singers' seats. They used to set there in the seats a writin' backward and forward to each other till they tore out all the leaves of the hymn-books, and the singin'-books besides.
"But, Foxwell, my Sunday dress is worn completely to threads," urged the second Mrs. Baxter. "That's what women always say; they're all alike; no more idea o' savin' anything than a skunk-blackbird! I can't spare any money for gew-gaws, and you might as well understand it first as last. Go up attic and open the hair trunk by the winder; you'll find plenty there to last you for years to come."
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