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)
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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
It warn't a great while afore I didn't seem to mind it much either, for
a little old comical looking chap come out in front of the garden, and
begun to chatter and larf, and fling his arms about every which way, and
to tell about some young gal that was a going to be married. Madeline,
he called her.
Wal, while he was a talking, a feller, all in red regimentals, come
round the house, as big as my pussey cousin, with a set of letters in
his hand, and blowing a tin toot-horn, as if he wanted us all tu come tu
dinner. He turned to be a sort of post-rider, with letters; he give one
to the funny old chap that owned the house, but it only had another
letter in it, and that was for the gal that was a going tu be married.
I begun to feel awful curious tu see that gal, arter hearing them talk
about her so much; but the post-office feller cut up his shines, and
ordered the folks about as obstroperous as my pussey cousin; a prime
chap he was--and I took a sort of a notion to him, he acted out so
slick.
By-am-by in come the purtyest looking critter that ever I did see; she
walked and sidled through the garden like a bird among the green trees,
and her voice sounded so funny when she spoke; she kinder cut her words
off, and lisped 'em out so sweet, that every word sounded chuck full of
honey. I swan it made my heart rise right up in my mouth every time she
spoke. She had tarnal harnsome eyes, as bright as the biggest star in
the gill-dipper, and I could almost tell what she was a saying by the
cut of her face; I never did see a critter look so happy. She had the
cunningest leetle white hat that I ever did see, stuck on one side of
her head, with blue ribbons streaming from it over her shoulders; on
t'other side her long shiny curls hung down on her shoulders, and a
harnsome white rose was stuck in them back of her ear; but it didn't
seem much whiter than her forehead and neck, for they were as white as
the froth on a pail of new milk afore it is strained. She had on a blue
silk frock, cut off a leetle too short at the bottom, for my notion, and
her cunning leetle feet raly cut about in them new shoes a leetle _too_
spry; I never did see anything so subtle as she was in my life.
The minit she came into the garden, all the folks in the galleries, and
on the seats below, begun to stomp, and yell, and holler, till I was
afeard that I made a mistake, and got into a political meeting agin. She
began to curchy, and lay her hand on her bosom, and curchy agin, all the
while a looking so sweet and mealy-mouthed that I wanted to eat her
hull, I swow I did. Arter a while they begun to get tired of making sich
etarnal coots of themselves, and then she begun to go round among the
folks in the garden, and give them presents, because she was a going to
git married in the morning, tu a rich gentleman that lived close by.
All tu once the comical old chap called "Madeline!" and give her the
letter the post-rider had brought for her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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