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Updated: May 27, 2025
Every dollar he owns is in this mill, and every dollar of it is going into some castle in the air that no sane man can comprehend." "Mad as a March hare," contemptuously muttered the doctor. His reverend friend gave him a look, after which he was silent. "I wish to the Lord some one would persuade him out of it," persisted the wool-man, earnestly looking at the attentive face of his listener.
Every dollar he owns is in this mill, and every dollar of it is going into some castle in the air that no sane man can comprehend." "Mad as a March hare," contemptuously muttered the doctor. His reverend friend gave him a look, after which he was silent. "I wish to the Lord some one would persuade him out of it," persisted the wool-man, earnestly looking at the quiet face of his listener.
Whoever recollects the profession of Shakespeare's father will admit that his son might be no stranger to such terms. "I have frequently seen packages of wool pinn'd up with skewers." Lucky wool-man, butcher, and dealer in skewers! to furnish at once a comment upon the great philosophical tragedy and a proof that its author and you were both of a trade!
"Knowles's inclination to that sort of people is easily explained," spitefully lisped the doctor. "Blood, Sir. His mother was a half-breed Creek, with all the propensities of the redskins to fire-water and 'itching palms. Blood will out." "Here he is," maliciously whispered the wool-man.
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