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 also kinder like tu go into the woods in the fall, and see the trees
a turnin all sorts o' colors, red and blue and yaller; and see the
chesnuts, jest ripe enough tu drop from there prickly shucks, and hear
the but'nuts a ratlin down tu the dry leaves. Oh, gauly! I wish you and
I was there now, if it was ony jest tu watch the chip-munks and gray
squirrels a carrying off the nuts in their mouths and fore paws. Did you
ever see a harnsome black squirrel, with a shagbark between his
whiskers, a hoppin among the trees, arter they're stript more'rn half
naked by the frost?"
Then my fingers begun to travel agin like anything.
"Yes," sez she, "I love a pet squirrel dearly."
By this time my hand had got tu the eend of its journey and put up.
"Harnsome critters, aint they," sez I, a'most out o'breath, I was so
skeared. "Captin Doolittle has got a rale sneezer down at the vessel, as
black as git out, his tail curls up over his side like the feather in a
gal's bonnet, and he's got an eye as bright and sharp as if it had been
cut out o' yourn. I'll hook it from the old coot, cage and all, and
bring it up tu you, if you've a notion tu it, consarn me if I don't."
"You're very kind," sez she.
"Oh, you git out!" sez I; "that aint a primin tu what I mean tu du, if
you and I can only agree tu draw in the same tacklin. I aint mean as
some chaps that I know on--nobody ever ketched me a halving a long nine,
or askin a gal tu pay her own shot when she went a slayin with me--ask
Captin Doolittle, if you don't believe _me_."
The critter looked up and kinder smiled agin so darned winnin, that I
histed her hand tu my lips, and gin it a nibble afore I knew what I was
about. She seemed tu try tu pull it away, and turned her head so that I
couldn't see her face.
"You aint mad nor nothin?" sez I, a lettin go her hand. "I swan tu man,
you looked so darned sweet I couldn't help it."
She got up and went tu the table that was dressed off so, and smelt of
the posies on it, and then she cum back agin and sot down as good
natured as a pussey cat; but she'd put me in such a tantrum, for fear
I'd made her mad, that I didn't know what tu say next; so there I sot, a
feelin streakeder and streakeder every minit; but arter a while I bust
out agin--
"Speakin of the woods," sez I, "aint the maple trees harnsome? Did you
ever see the leaves when they're jest a turnin red, a kinder tremblin on
the limbs, as if every one on 'em was kinder afraid of fallin off? I've
seen 'em over night as green as some of these country chaps when they
fust come tu York; and then agin in the mornin, as red as your lips; and
a'most as bright when the sun shines on 'em."
I could see them lips begin to pucker up agin, as if they wanted to give
me a chance of judgin. So I kept on--
"I swan," sez I, "sometimes it seems to me as if the sugar had stuck up
through the leaves and turned 'em red, they look so pesky sweet. Speakin
o' that, du you love maple sugar?"
"Very much," sez she.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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