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
Since I wrote my last letter there's been no eend to the things that
I've had to du. Arter thinking about it eenamost two nights, I about
made up my mind tu settle down here in York a spell, and send you a
grist of letters now and then, which I mean to git printed in the New
York Express, the way I told you of.
I've been up to see the editors, and they want me to stay properly, and
I don't think I shall ever git so good a chance to take up this literary
way of gitting a living, as they call it, if I don't snap at this offer
tu once.
I thought at first that I'd try some other newspaper, and see if I could
git a higher bid, but somehow I'd taken a shine to the Express, and
thought it wasn't worth while. It warn't because there wasn't papers
enough, for you can't step three steps here in York, without stumbling
over a little stuck up newspaper office. Besides, there's no eend to the
papers carried round in the streets. You can't go any where but some
little dirty shaver or other, about knee high to a toad, will stick a
paper out under your nose, and ask you to buy it, as crank as can be.
Somehow, it kinder seemed to me that the New York Express took the shine
off the papers that I'd seen among 'em all, though they was as thick as
toads arter a rain storm. I had a notion to write for it from the first,
because, think sez I, that prime feller, Major Jack Downing, writes a
good deal for it, and I rather think we shall hitch tackle like any
thing.
Wal, jest as soon as I made up my mind about it, I went right off, full
chisel, to the Express Office. I'd been round there once afore to put my
t'other letter into the Post Office, and so the minit I come to the
corner of Wall and Nassau Street, and saw a house with the "New York
Express Office" writ on the eend, I knew it was the office without
asking. So I crossed over, and kinder hung about a leetle, jest to make
my heart stop a beating so, afore I went in. I swanny if I ever felt so
in my life! I was so anxious about that long letter that I sent to them
to get printed for you, that I was dreadful loth to go in, and eenamost
made up my mind to turn about and make tracks for the sloop agin!
Wal, sez I to myself, it won't do any hurt jest to take a look about the
premises afore I go. A feller can find out a good deal about a man's
natur, by the looks of things about the place he lives in; so I drew up
before a board, all stuck over with picters, and pieces of old
newspaper, by the eend of the building, and putting my hands in my
pockets, I stood still, and looked up'ards to see what I could make out.
But instid of taking an observation of the premises, I begun to think
about the cattle and the spring shotes that Judy White used to take sich
care on, till the tears eenamost cum into my eyes, I was so humsick.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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