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
I guess you never sot eyes on so melancholy a set of critters as sot
round our kitchen till midnight, for marm wouldn't go to bed, and we
were afeard to leave her up alone in the out room with that pictur of
the horned beast a staring her right in the eyes. When the old clock
struck twelve, we heard the out door room shut to, and by-am-by marm
come where we sot in the kitchen, dressed out in a great long consarn
like an overgrown night-gown, with white shoes on her old feet, and
that gray hair of her'n a hanging down her back; I swow, it made me
ketch my breath to see her!
I haint got the heart to write all the shines marm cut up that night and
all day the Sunday arter--it seems like pokin fun at one's own marm--as
she went from one room to t'other, a ringing her hands and a crying her
eyes out, because we wouldn't put on the robes she'd made for us, and go
right up to heaven without making a fuss about it. I thought it wouldn't
do no harm to try and rile her up to thinking of something besides the
horned beast.
"Marm," sez I, all tu once, "I can't think of fixing up for t'other
world yit, no how. I've jest got a letter from York, and if you're so
detarmined on going to heaven, I ruther guess York's the place for me."
Marm jumped right up from her knees, and sez she, "Jonathan what _du_
you mean?"
My heart riz; it was the only sign of gumption she had made for a hull
day. Par looked up, and his chin kinder quivered, for he thought I was
poking fun at the old woman, and Judy White, she sidled up to me, and
sez she, all in a twitter, "Jonathan you aint in arnest now?"
"If I was, would you give up and let me go?" sez I.
Darn the harnsome critter, how mad she looked! "No I won't nor touch
tu!" sez she, and afore I knew it, she bust right out a crying and went
out of the room.
I didn't foller her, for marm had got down on her knees agin, and was a
looking through her specs at a tarnal big thunder cloud that cum a
rolling its blackness in knolls and furrows all over the sky, as if the
world had raly cum to an eend, and all the niggers in creation was a
going up fust.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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