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Updated: June 22, 2025
Most of dese vatches iss no good vatsoever. Dey make vatches diff'rend now as dey used to. Chust vun minute or two more und I have him figxed so he don'd break no more for a vile. Und vat vas we talking aboud? "Ah, yes. Aboud how I drink beer und vas a bum. Dat's how it goes. Ven you are young you have less sense den ven you are old. Und I used to go around thinking I vould commit suicide.
"Vas hall your money right, Mr Biggs?" inquired the purser's steward. "I didn't count," replied the boatswain magnificently. "No gentlemen are above that," replied Easthupp; "but there are many light-fingered gentry habout. The quantity of vatches and harticles of value vich were lost ven I valked Bond Street in former times is incredible."
Und den ven everyding vent avay I vas chust as big a fool und I used to think how terrible the vorld vas und how unhappiness vas all you could get. "Yes, ten years ago, it vas. I started in again. I started in on vatches again. I got a job figxing vatches und a friend says he vould give me a chance. Und here I am. Still figxing vatches. Dey are my friends. Inside dey are all broken.
A pair of tiny pincers, a fragile-looking screwdriver and a set of things that looked like dolls' tools occupied him. We talked, Gustave answering and evading questions and offering comments as he worked. "Not zo hard ven you ged used to it," he said. "Und I am used to it. Vatches are my friends. I like to look into dem und make dem go. Yes, I have been vorking on vatches for a long time.
Dat's how vatches iss busted alvays. By bumping und paying no attention to dem." Life, alas, is an intricate illusion. God is a pack of lies under which man staggers to his grave. And man ah, here we have Nature's only mountebank; here we have Nature's humorous and ingenuous experiment in tragedy. And thought ah, the tissue-paper chimera that seeks forever to devour life.
Had my uncle Ro been a true son of peddling, he would have charged a dollar extra on each of the nineteen, and made eleven dollars by his present liberality. "It is no town at all only a township," returned the literal Seneca. "Did you expect it would be a city?" "Vat cares I? I woult radder sell my vatches to goot, honest, country men, dan asht to de best burghers in de land." "You're my man!
"Dis 'Streak o' Lightning," laying his hand on his own breast, that I might not misconceive the person of the warrior who bore so eminent a title; "no good lie to him know ebbery t'ing afore he ask, only ask for fun what do here, eh?" "Ve coomes to see der Injins and der beoples at der village, dat ve might sell our vatches." "Dat all; sartain? can call 'down rent, eh?"
"Vould you like a vatch?" "That would I; and a farm, too, if I could get 'em cheap," answered Brigham, with a sneer he did not attempt to conceal. "How do you sell farms to-day?" "I haf got no farms; I sells drinkets and vatches, but I doesn't sell farms. Vhat I haf got I vill sell, but I cannot sells vhat I haf not got." "Oh! you'll get all you want if you'll stay long enough in this country!
"I coomes, as I tell ye, to see if vatches might be solt, und not for der gubbernor; I neffer might see der mans." As all this was true, my conscience felt pretty easy on the score of whatever there might be equivocal about it. "What folks think of Injin down below, eh? what folks say of anti-rent, eh? hear him talk about much?"
"No; der brice of dat is effery cent of forty dollars," answered uncle Ro, stubbornly. The two men now looked at the pedlar in surprise. Miller took the watch from his hired man, examined it attentively, compared it with the other, and then demanded its price anew. "You might haf eider of dem vatches for four dollars," returned my uncle, as I thought, incautiously.
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