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)
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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
Wal, I was standing there on the stun walk, with both hands buried
considerable deep in my trousers' pockets, a looking up at the sign writ
out on the eend of the office, when a feller cum up and begun to read
the pieces of paper stuck on the board jest outside. So I wiped the
tarnal tears away with the cuff of my coat, for it made me feel kinder
cheap to have anybody see a fellow of my size boo-hooing in York streets
because he happened to think about hum and old times; and I got up a
leetle grit, and went right straight down into the office, for it's half
under ground. A chap that sot back of a sort of counter, where there was
a lot of papers folded up, lifted his head once, and went to writing
agin as if I warn't nobody.
"Do you print the Evening Express here?" sez I kinder low, for I felt so
dreadful anxious about the letter, that I was eenamost choked.
"Yes" sez he, a gitting up, "do you want one?"
"Wal, I don't care if I take one," sez I, a forking out a
four-pence-halfpenny from my trousers' pocket. "Anything
particular--that is purty smart in it to-day?"
"Nothing _very_ remarkable to-day," sez he, "but if you call to-morrow
we shall print a capital letter from one Mr. Jonathan Slick of
Weathersfield."
I swanny if my heart didn't jump like a rabbit at the sight of a piece
of sweet apple in snow time! "You don't say so," sez I, and I tried not
to look tickled all I could, but somehow my mouth wouldn't stay still;
and I hain't the least dout but that I kept grinning in the feller's
face, jest like a monkey over a hot chesnut. It was as much as I could
du to keep from jumping over the counter and hugging him, I was so
allfired glad.
He didn't seem to mind, but sot down and begun to write agin as if
nothing was the matter, and so I took up the paper and went off; but, I
ruther guess I stepped high, for I kept thinking what you and marm and
Judy White would say when you saw yourselves all in print as large as
life.
When I went out, there stood the chap a reading the pieces of newspapers
yit. I wanted to go up and shake hands with him and tell him all about
it, I was so full of what the chap inside said about my letter, but I
didn't though. I went down to the sloop, and I wanted to tell Captain
Doolittle about it. But, sez I to myself, I'll choke in to-day, but if
his eyes don't stick out to-morrow I'll lose my guess.
I ruther think that I didn't let the grass grow under my feet, when
Thursday cum, but up I went at the Express Office like a house a-fire.
It raly seem'd as if my heart would bust, I was so dreadful anxious to
see the paper. I didn't stop to ketch breath but went right into the
office, and there sot a couple of fellers that looked as stiff and
knowing as could be, back of the counter. Sez I to myself, I guess I've
found the editors this time anyhow.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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