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
Think sez I--"You'd better ask his marm," for I'll be darned if he can
tell that, or anything else. I aint quite sartin if he knows jest this
minit which eend his head's on. But there's nothing like keeping a stiff
upper lip in sich places as York. In less than half a jiffy I reached
out my hand sort of easy, and took the paper out of her hand, and then I
gin her a smile, as much as to say, aint I a careless shote? and, sez I,
"Now I swanny, did you ever! Well now who'd a thought it,"--and with
that I began to feel in my vest, and dug my hands down in my trousers'
pockets, as if I'd give the wrong paper, and had lost something else,
and wouldn't give up till I'd found it. I didn't seem content till I'd
pulled out my yaller hankercher and shook it, and then I stopped still,
and sez I,
"Now if this don't beat all, aint I the beatermost feller for losing
things? Howsomever, it's well it aint no worse. I can write another
almost any time. Jest tell Miss Elssler that Mr. Slick has called in to
thank her for her harnsome little keepsake, and that he's felt awfully
wamblecropped when he found out she wasn't to hum."
The woman that come to the door fust, she looked at the other and begun
gabbling away, and then the black haired one, sez she,
"Oh, Mister Sleeke, pardon! pardon! I am so sorry to keep you so long
standing. I did not know! walk in, walk in. I am most happy to see
gentlemen of de press--most happy of any to see Mister Sleeke." With
that she stepped back and made the purtyest leetle curchy that ever I
see; it was like a speckled trout diving into a brook jest enough to
give a curve to the water and no more.
"Oh dear!" think sez I, "Jonathan Slick, if you havn't been a weeding in
the wrong bed agin. That critter is Fanny Elssler as true as all
creation; no woman on arth could make sich a curchy but her." I guess my
face blazed up a few, but I seen that there was no backing out, so not
to be behind hand in good manners I stepped back, put out my foot with a
flourish that made the seams to my new trousers give; then I drew my
right heel into the hollow of my left foot, and kept a bending for'ard
all the time with a sort of deliberate gentility, till my eyes had to
roll up the leastest mite to keep sight of her'n. Then I drew up agin
easy, like a jack-knife with a tough spring, and finished off with a
flurish of my hand up to my hat and back agin; that last touch left me
standing parpendic'lar right before her, as a free born citizen of
America ought tu.
"Miss Elssler," sez I, "how do you du? You haint no idea how tickled I
am to see you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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