David Harum: A Story of American LifeWestcott, Edward Noyes
General
David Harum: A Story of American Life
Westcott, Edward Noyes
Bankers -- Fiction; New York (State) -- Fiction
"Yes'm," she went on, "she left him an' went out West somewhere, an'
that was the last of _her_; an' when her two boys got old enough to look
after themselves a little, they quit him too, an' they wa'n't no way
growed up neither. Wa'al, the long an' the short on't was that 'Lish got
goin' down hill ev'ry way, health an' all, till he hadn't nothin' left
but his disposition, an' fairly got onter the town. The' wa'n't nothin'
for it but to send him to the county house, onless somebody 'd s'port
him. Wa'al, the committee knew Dave was his brother, an' one on 'em come
to see him to see if he'd come forwud an' help out, an' he seen Dave
right here in this room, an' Dave made me stay an' hear the hull thing.
Man's name was Smith, I remember, a peaked little man with long chin
whiskers that he kep' clawin' at with his fingers. Dave let him tell
his story, an' he didn't say nothin' fer a minute or two, an' then he
says, 'What made ye come to me?' he says. 'Did he send ye?'
"'Wa'al,' says Smith, 'when it was clear that he couldn't do nuthin', we
ast him if the' wa'n't nobody could put up fer him, an' he said you was
his brother, an' well off, an' hadn't ought to let him go t' the
poorhouse.'
"'He said that, did he?' says Dave.
"'Amountin' to that,' says Smith.
"'Wa'al,' says Dave, 'it's a good many years sence I see 'Lish, an'
mebbe you know him better 'n I do. You known him some time, eh?'
"'Quite a number o' years,' says Smith.
"'What sort of a feller was he,' says Dave, 'when he was somebody? Putty
good feller? good citizen? good neighber? lib'ral? kind to his fam'ly?
ev'rybody like him? gen'ally pop'lar, an' all that?'
"'Wa'al,' says Smith, wigglin' in his chair an' pullin' out his whiskers
three four hairs to a time, 'I guess he come some short of all that.'
"'E'umph!' says Dave, 'I guess he did! Now, honest,' he says, '_is_ the'
man, woman, or child in Whitcom that knows 'Lish Harum that's got a good
word fer him? or ever knowed of his doin' or sayin' anythin' that hadn't
got a mean side to it some way? Didn't he drive his wife off, out an'
out? an' didn't his two boys hev to quit him soon 's they could travel?
_An'_,' says Dave, 'if any one was to ask you to figure out a pattern of
the meanist human skunk you was capable of thinkin' of, wouldn't
it--honest, now!' Dave says, 'honest, now--wouldn't it be 's near like
'Lish Harum as one buckshot 's like another?'"
"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Cullom. "What did Mr. Smith say to that?"
"Wa'al," replied Mrs. Bixbee, "he didn't say nuthin' at fust, not in so
many words. He sot fer a minute clawin' away at his whiskers--an' he'd
got both hands into 'em by that time--an' then he made a move as if he
gin the hull thing up an' was goin'. Dave set lookin' at him, an' then
he says, 'You ain't goin', air ye?'
"'Wa'al,' says Smith, 'feelin' 's you do, I guess my arrant here ain't
goin' t' amount to nothin', an' I may 's well.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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