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
"Mr. President, how do you du, and how are all the folks tu hum, about
these times, all purty smart I s'pose?" With that I worked away at the
old chap's hand, with both mine, as if I'd made up my mind tu pump an
office out of him, afore I let go.
"Wal," sez I, "Captin, I hope you mean to stay in York a spell, now
you've got here; some harnsome gals about these diggings jest now, rale
sneezers in the way of beauty--you haint no idee of that sort, nor
nothing have you?" sez I, a giving him a slantindicular squint from one
eye, and a leetle punch in the ribs with the tip eend of my finger, "no
you haint now."
The captin he larfed, and sez he, "Oh no, I'm only making a little
unpremeditated tour a--"
"Jest so," sez I, "an _accidental_ visit."
The captin gin me a squint across his nose, and then I made him a low
bow, and sez I, "Jest so, but the folks seem tu be rather tickled with
sich accidents, don't they?"
This seemed to kinder mollify the captin, and jest as I was a spreading
myself for a new speech, a feller cum up with a great red and green and
white rosy, pinned on to his coat, and he whispered tu the President,
and the President looked round tu me, and sez he,
"Mr. Slick, they tell me that the collation is ready--will you go with
me into the ladies' cabin, and lead down one of my fair friends?"
I made him a prime bow--a rale darnsing school smasher--and, sez I,
"Wal now, I don't know what kind of horned cattle a collation is, but
seeing as it's you, I'll tackle in, if it's only tu git acquainted with
a downright ginuine fair friend of your'n, captin, for folks say that
your friends are purty darned _unfair_ in a gineral way."
"Folks don't du me justice," sez he, a turning red in the gills; "No man
ever had better or devoted friends on arth."
"What there is on 'em," sez I.
The captin didn't seem tu hear me, but he took out his chaw of terbacco
and pitched it over the side of the boat. I dug both hands into my
trousers' pockets, and sez I tu the man with the silk rosy, sez I--
"Come, now, I s'pose it's about time for you and I and the President to
be a movin. Where du you keep that critter of your'n?"
"What critter?" sez he.
"Why, the collation?" sez I.
"Down in the cabin," sez he.
"Wal," sez I, "I hope the varmint is considerable tame; but come on,
whose afeard!"
With that, Captin Tyler and I and the old yaller chap, with a hull swad
of fellers, some on 'em in training clothes, and some on 'em with cocked
hats on, went into a leetle room fenced off from the deck, and there,
jest as sartin as you live, were five or six wimmen folks, right in
amongst all them men, like one clover top tu a hull hive of honey bees,
a lookin as contented as git out. "Wal," think sez I, "If they ain't
scared, I ain't." The President seemed to know 'em, for he put his arm
right under mine so arnest, that he eenamost lifted my right hand out of
my pocket; and, sez he,--
"Ladies, Mr. Slick, of the New York Press."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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