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 went up to the table, and took a survey of the decanters and
cider-bottles; and arter a while, I made out to find one decanter that
looked as if it had something good in it, and poured about a thimble
full into two of the wine glasses, and filled up one for myself. Mrs.
Slick and her darter took up the glasses, and then I stepped back and
made a low bow, and sez I, "The compliments of the season!--or any other
interesting thing that you like. A person of your genius----" Here I
stuck fast, for somehow I forgot how cousin Beebe told me to top off in
the speech. But the old woman puckered up her mouth, and curchyed away
as if I'd said it all out; and the gal, she went over the same
manoeuvre, and laughed so silly, and put back her long curls with her
white gloves--for she had gloves on though she was tu hum--and sez she,
"_Oh_, Mr. Slick," and then her marm chimed in, and sez she, "Now that
you've mentioned genius, Mr. Slick, I do think my Jemima has a talent
for poetry."
Think sez I, it raly is surprising how much genius there is buried up in
these York brick houses. I hain't been to see a family since I've been
down here that hadn't some darter that _could_ write so beautiful, only
she was so proud and diffident and modest, that she could not be coaxed
to have any thing printed. Think sez I, if that leetle stuck up varmint
has took to poetry, there'll be a blaze in the newspaper world afore
long. She's sartin to set the North River on fire, if nobody else ever
did.
I remembered what cousin Beebe told me about helping myself to eatables,
so I sot down by the table and hauled a plate up to me, and begun to
make myself to hum. There was no eend to the sweet things that I piled
up on my plate and begun to store away with a silver knife and a spoon.
Mrs. Slick, she begun to fuss about, and offered to help me to this,
that and t'other, till I should raly have thought she didn't care how
much I eat, if she hadn't contrived to tell me how much every thing cost
all the time. Jest as I was finishing off a plate of foreign presarves,
the door-bell rung, and in streaked five or six fellers, dressed up tu
kill. It raly made me eenamost snicker out to see how slick and smooth
every one of 'em had combed his hair down each side of his face. They
all looked as much alike as if they'd been kidney beans shelled out of
the same pod. When the old woman and the gal sot to wriggling their
shoulders and making curchies to them, I begun to think it was time for
me to get up and give them a chance. So I bolted the last spoonful of
presarves, and took out my red silk hankercher to wipe my mouth. I
thought it come out of my pockets purty hard, so I gave it a twitch, and
hurra! out come three of the doughnuts that I'd tucked away to be ready
in case of fodder's getting scarce, and they went helter-skelter every
which way all over the carpet. At fust I felt sort of streaked, for the
young chaps begun to giggle, and Miss Jemima Slick she bust right out. I
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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