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Updated: July 16, 2025
"No, but we have paupers sometimes," and Jim looked Yates directly in the eye. "What paupers?" "From Sevenoaks." "And do they bring tin-ware?" "Sartin they do; leastways, one on 'em did, an' I never seen but one in the woods, an' he come here one night tootin' on a tin horn, an' blowin' about bein' the angel Gabrel. Do you see my har?" "Rather bushy, Jim."
Three or four donkeys loaded with tin-ware were standing near the crowd, when one of them, ambitious of distinction, began clambering over the tops of the others in an insane attempt to get at some greens, temptingly displayed before him.
"Well, I love to see folks make themselves to home; but ye don't sleep in no cabin o' mine till I know who ye be, an' what ye're arter." "Jim, did you ever hear of entertaining angels unaware?" and Yates looked laughingly into his face. "No, but I've hearn of angels entertainin' theirselves on tin-ware, an' I've had 'em here." "Do you have tin peddlers here?" inquired Yates, looking around him.
Picture-frames and copper succeed to tin-ware, argand lamps, and damaged crockery; china marks the next transition; and after no long tarriance in the "omnium gatherum" stage, the shop becomes a museum.
It may be that I regretted a little too exultantly, and that out of this particular house came only peddling of innumerable clocks and multitudinous tin-ware. But as yet, it is pretty certain that the general character of the population has not gained by the change.
No harder than the farmers have during this busy harvest-time. No harder than the pedlars of tin-ware and dry goods have, that go about the country in all weathers." "But it's different with the farmer, who tills his own land. He is working to some end.
"I don't blame you a bit for running away. I've got a story to tell you about Mrs. Mudge. She's a regular skinflint." This was the pedler's promised story about Mrs. Mudge. "The last time I was round that way, I stopped, thinking maybe they might have some rags to dispose of for tin-ware. The old lady seemed glad to see me, and pretty soon she brought down a lot of white rags.
Opposite, the fife and drum spoke for the temple of the legitimate drama. At the selling-stalls importunate vendors of tin-ware rattled their stock-in-trade and roared at the world in general, as if buyers could be forced to attend to the most noisy which, indeed, they mostly did.
The mayor informed them that arrangements had been made to transport them there at the expense of the French Government. He also said that he was authorized to give each volunteer the sum of twenty-five francs, a mattress, blanket and a supply of tin-ware. This joyful news was received with loud cries of "Vive la France! Vive la Republique!" and three hearty cheers were given for the mayor.
Gowdy raged. On the heels of this came a bill from Meyer, Van Horn, and Co. for tin-ware. It had been purchased but a week before, yet the bill bore these words, stamped in red ink and set askew with a haste that seemed to denote a sudden gust of spite: "Please remit." "Henrietta!" called the Doctor to his wife; "how's this? You know I never trade at any of those abominable department stores!
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