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
Marm's face was as white as a taller candle, she was enough to scare
anybody out of a week's growth, a kneeling there in that white gown, and
her old hands a wrenching away at each other, like a crazy critter.
Thinks I, I'll try and rile her up agin, but it wasn't of the leastest
use, she wouldn't git up from the winder, but knelt there stock
still--with her head flung back'ards, and the lightning a blazing over
her steel specs, and the grizzley hair that hung away down her back. I
swan to man, it made my hair stand on eend to look at her. By-am-by the
thunder come a rolling and tumbling through the clouds, as if somebody
was a blasting rocks up above: and the lightning come a streaming out
agin in great blazes of fire, till it seemed as if all natur was turned
wrong eend up, and all the brick kilns, coal mines, and founderies on
arth were a playing away in the clouds, and a groaning and hissing
through the rain that came down in pailsfull, and a scaring folks to
death.
"There!--look a there!" sez marm all tu once, a jumping up, and a
stretching her arm through the winder. "I'm ready--I'm a coming!--Look a
there, Deacon Zephaniah Slick--look there, my unregenerated son--look!"
Sure as a gun, there was something all dressed out in white a standing
in the orchard, right agin the winder. Par and Judy White--for the
critter ran back from the out room when she see that I wasn't a going to
foller her--riz right up, and they wur about the streakedest looking
critters that ever you sot eyes on. Jest then cum a loud noise--snort,
snort, snort--from the orchard. "Oh gracious me!" sez marm--"the
trumpet! the trumpet!"--and down she slumped on her knees agin.
"By gracious," think sez I, "I'll see what the matter is, any how;" so I
gin a dive to the winder, and I hollored out, "shew--stuboy--git out!"
but I kinder think I didn't yell over loud, the words stuck like
wax-eends in my throat, and afore I could git 'em untangled, out cum the
noise agin, louder, and twice as scary as it was before.
Think sez I, "Gracious knows, I'm afeard we're gone suckers, but I'll
try agin anyhow;" so sez I, a clapping my hands, "git away, you varmint,
tramp--scoot--stuboy--y--y--"
I guess I yelled it out like a training gun that time. The white spirit
seemed to feel it tu, for it flung its arms in the dark, and gin us
another blast of his consarned old trumpet. Jest then the lightning came
cutting down agin, and--oh, git out!--it was only the old white horse, a
snorting and a kicking up his heels, in the orchard. I sot down, and
haw-hawed right out, till it was all I could du to catch my breath agin;
then I bust out agin, till par and Judy jined chorus, and we made the
old house ring as if there had been a quilting frolic in it: just then
the clock struck twelve.
"Hurra!" I sung out, "marm, the 23d of April has cum and gone; come,
marm, git up, the storm is blowing over, and the moon haint turned to
blood yit. Hurra!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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