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Updated: June 26, 2025
'Oh, says th' Cap, 'ye're th' American gazabo that owns this hut, he says. 'I am, says Willum. 'I can't go, says th' Cap. 'Ye didn't ask me here an' ye can't sind me away, he says. 'Gossoon, another shell iv malt, an' dhraw it more slow, he says. 'I am an English gintleman an' I know me rights, he says. 'Dure or window, says Willum. 'Take ye'er choice, he says.
"Everything seems kind o' turnin' upside down," he said. He drew a deep breath. "What d'ye s'pose it is, Willum about 'em picters that makes 'em cost so like the devil?" Uncle William looked thoughtful. "I dunno," he said slowly. "I've thought about that, myself. Can't be the paint nor the canvas." "Cheap as dirt," said Andy. "Must be the way he does 'em."
'Please do, said Robert, 'if it's not too much trouble. It would be very kind of you. Mr Peasemarsh put his hands in his pockets and laughed, and they did not like the way he did it. Then he shouted 'Willum! A stooping ostler appeared in a stable door. 'Here, Willum, come and look at this 'ere young dook! Wants to buy the whole stud, lock, stock, and bar'l.
Have they been working you too hard, Jack?" "No, Willum, no, I can't exactly say that, but they've bin hangin' me too hard. I'll tell 'ee all about it in coorse o' time. Man alive! but they have took the flesh off your bones somehow; let's see no, your neck's all right. Must have bin some other way." "The way was simple enough," returned the other.
"Some trading vessel may sight us in the nick o' time," hopefully suggested Joe. "Never say die!" "Trust most honest skippers to give the Inlet a wide berth," was the lugubrious reply. "This harbor was used by pirates afore Blackbeard's time. I was a silly 'prentice-boy, same as you, Joe, wi' Cap'n Willum Kidd when we lay in here to caulk his galley for the long voyage to Madagascar."
I am a Cheap Jack, and my own father's name was Willum Marigold. It was in his lifetime supposed by some that his name was William, but my own father always consistently said, No, it was Willum. On which point I content myself with looking at the argument this way: If a man is not allowed to know his own name in a free country, how much is he allowed to know in a land of slavery?
Cunning Joe! he thus gets rid of Willum and the shepherd, who is quite fresh again. No one seems to like the offer, and the umpire is just coming down, when a queer old hat, something like a doctor of divinity's shovel, is chucked on to the stage and an elderly, quiet man steps out, who has been watching the play, saying he should like to cross a stick wi' the prodigalish young chap.
The crowd, of course, first cheer, and then chaff as usual, as he picks up his hat and begins handling the sticks to see which will suit him. "Wooy, Willum Smith, thee canst plaay wi' he arra daay," says his companion to the blacksmith's apprentice, a stout young fellow of nineteen or twenty.
"I sees it!" exclaimed Molloy, with a sudden beam of intelligence, "you've hit the nail on the head, Willum.
There's more comin'. There I'm used up wi' writin' such a long screed. I'd raither dig a twenty-futt hole in clay sile any day. Yours to command, Willum. "P.S. You ain't comin' back soon are you?" "Now, mother, what d'ee think o' that?" said the Captain, folding the letter and putting it in his pocket. "It's a good, kind letter just like William," answered the old woman.
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