High Life in New York: A series of letters to Mr. Zephariah Slick, Justice of the Peace, and Deacon of the church over to Weathersfield in the state of ConnecticutStephens, Ann S. (Ann Sophia)
General
High Life in New York: A series of letters to Mr. Zephariah Slick, Justice of the Peace, and Deacon of the church over to Weathersfield in the state of Connecticut
Stephens, Ann S. (Ann Sophia)
New York (N.Y.) -- Social life and customs -- 19th century
Look a-here, Par, if you hain't seen the New York _Evening Express_,
jest stretch your purse-strings a leetle, and subscribe for it. It's a
peeler of a paper, I can tell you. You needn't take my word for it
though, for I've made this letter so tarnal long, that it'd cost more
than the price of a paper a hull year to pay the postage, so I've a
notion to git the editors to print this for me in their primest evening
paper, and so you'll git my letters and paper tu, all for five cents.
I'll jest give you a little notion how they make the _Express_, for I
read it eenamost through, afore cousin John come. The editors get all
the papers in the country together, jest as we pick out our apples in
cider time, and they go to work and git all that's worth reading out on
'em, and put it all in one great paper, which they sell for two cents;
so that a feller can know what's said by every editor North and South,
on one side and t'other, without the trouble of reading but one
paper;--jest as we can git the juice of a bushel of apples all in a pint
of cider, after it's once been through the mill. I raly think it's one
of the best plans I ever heard on, and I'm so sartin that every body
will take it by-am-by, that I've a notion that if you'd jest as livs let
me throw up the onion trade, I'll try and get in to write for it, but
we'll talk all that over by-am-by, arter I've seen the editors. Major
Jack Downing is writing for them already, and perhaps--but I hain't made
up my mind about it yit, though I kept a thinking it over all the while
I was a reading in the counting-room.
Wal, I was jest taking a dive inter the advertisements, when cousin John
came in. I raly believe you wouldn't know the critter, he's altered so.
He's grown as fat and pussy as old lawyer Sikes in our parts, but I raly
think he looks better for it. I tell you what, his clothes must cost him
a few. He had on a superfine broadcloth coat, that didn't cost a whit
less than ten dollars a yard, I wouldn't be afraid to bet a cookey. You
could a seen your face in his boots, and his hair was parted on the top
of his head, and hung down on the sides of his face and all over his
coat collar, till he looked more like a woman in men's clothes than any
thing else. I thought I should a haw-hawed out a larfin, all I could du,
though it made me kinder wrathy to see a feller make such an etarnal
coot of himself. I thought I'd see if he'd know me agin, so I on'y jist
crossed one foot over t'other on the top of the stove, and tipt my chair
back on its hind legs, and kept on reading as independent as a
corkscrew, jest ter see how he'd act.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account