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 — John Shaqi
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
Wal, he cum right up to the stove, and took his coat tail under his
arms, and begun to whistle as if there warn't nobody in the room. Once
in a while as I took a peek over the top of the paper, I could see that
he was a looking at me kinder sideways, as if he couldn't exactly make
up his mind whether he knew me or not. I felt my heart kinder rising up
in my throat, for it put me in mind of old times when we used to weed
onions and slide down hill together. At last I couldn't stand it no
longer, so I jumped up and flung down the paper, and, says I, "Cousin
Beebe, how do you du?"
He stared like a stuck pig at fust, but I raly believe the feller was
glad to see me when he found out who I was, for he shook my hand like
all natur. Sez he, "Mr. Slick," sez he, "I'm glad to see you down in the
city; how's the deacon, and aunt Eunice, and the Mills gals? You see I
han't forgot old times."
With that we sot into a stream of talk about Weathersfield people, and
so on that lasted a good two hours, by the town clock. Arter a while
cousin John took out his watch, all gold inside and out, and sez he,
"Come, Mr. Slick, it's about four o'clock--go up and take a family
dinner with us."
I rather guess I stared a few, to think of being axed to eat dinner at
that time o' day; but as I hadn't eat any thing but a cold bite aboard
the sloop since morning, the thoughts of a good warm dinner warn't by no
means to be sneezed at.
"Better late than never," sez I to myself, arter I had put on my hat and
stuck my hands in my pantaloons' pockets ready for a start. But jest as
we wur a going out, there come a feller in to talk over some bisness
matters, so sez Cousin Beebe, sez he--
"Here, Mr. Slick, is the number of our house--supposin you go along and
tell Mrs. Beebe that I'll be home as soon as I can get through a little
bisness--she wont make a stranger of you."
"I rather guess she won't," sez I, a taking the little piece of paper
which he'd been a writing on; "if she does there must a been an almighty
change in her since we used to go to singing school and apple bees
together."
John looked kind a skeery toward the stranger, and begun to fidget
about; so I told him I could find the way and made myself scarce in less
than no time--for I thought as like as not the feller cum to git him to
put his name to a note, or something of that sort; so I thought I'd give
him a chance to say no, if he wanted tu.
By gracious! Par, I'd give a quart of soap if you and marm could a been
with me in Broadway as I went along. I couldn't help stopping eenamost
every other minit to look into the winders.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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