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
The feller kinder smiled, but didn't answer right off, so I jest turned
about, and leaned one hand on the old mare's cropper, while I whistled
the colt up tu us, and pinted out his harnsome head and chist, and the
clean notion that he has got of flingin out his legs.
"He's a smart critter, I can tell you," sez I; "and as for the old mare
here, she's worth her weight in silver dollars. Haint got but one fault
on arth."
"And what's that?" sez Mr. Robert Tyler, sez he.
"Why, she's troubled with the _botts_ a leetle, once in a while, but it
aint nothin worth mentionin."
Mr. Robert Tyler he give a start, and he turned as white as skim milk in
the face. Sez he, all in a twitter, sez he, "Don't mention it, Mr.
Slick. My par, the President, wouldn't let a horse go into his stable
that had ever gin symptoms of the botts. It's an awful disease. Don't
mention it to him, for he'd never git over it if you did!"
"Wal, then, I s'pose we can't trade," sez I. "Think on it agin. Mebby
you'll change your mind to-morrow."
"Hello!" sez I agin. "What's that. Captin Tyler's druv his carriage
right out of the ranks, and is gone fair split down Broome street."
Mr. Robert Tyler he turned his horse, and he and I and the colt took
arter the President full chisel. We cum up with him jest as he was a
gittin out before the Howard Hotel. He was so beat out and tuckered down
that I raly felt sorry for him; for arter all that folks say, I believe
that he's a good hearted old chap, and wants to du the thing that's
about right, if he could only be sartin what it was. He couldn't but
jest hold up his head, and had tu go to the Theatre yit. As I was a
looking at him, a notion cum intu my head, and, sez I--
"Captin, jest put on your hat a minit, and drive down to the sloop--I've
got somethin there that'll make your nose tingle, and chirk you right
up, till you'll be as chipper as a squirrel in the fall time."
Captain Tyler he got right up, and sez he--"I'll do anything on arth
that'll make me feel better." "Mr. Robert," sez I, "tell the gals that
we'll come back right off"--so down we went, I helped the President into
the carriage, and in less than no time we got out and went aboard the
sloop.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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