I've Been Thinking; or, the Secret of SuccessRoe, A. S. (Azel Stevens)
General
I've Been Thinking; or, the Secret of Success
Roe, A. S. (Azel Stevens)
Conduct of life -- Fiction; Diligence -- Fiction; Success -- Fiction
Mr. Richard now took matters into his own hands, and while Jerry was
blowing and snapping his fingers, he managed to get some sparks into
the tinder, and soon had his lantern in trim.
Caesar was about the middle of his first nap when he suddenly awoke, and
found that Trap was growling in a low undertone. Trap never barked, and
very seldom condescended to growl, Caesar knew that there must be
something going wrong; he therefore extricated his head from beneath the
bed-clothes, and cast his eye round the premises. The lamp was still
burning, and so far as his half-opened eyelids would allow him to see,
there was no one in his room besides the usual inmates. Trap, to be
sure, was out of his place, and sitting close by his master's bed,
looking very significantly up at the red night-cap. As soon as he
perceived that his master was awake, he ceased growling, like a very
sensible dog as he was, signifying thereby that his only design in using
his vocal powers was to stop the snoring, and call his master's
attention to matters and things in the waking world. After rubbing away
upon his eyes awhile, and working things awake there, Caesar, in a very
philosophic manner, by means of his two arms, which he threw behind him
and used as levers, first to raise and then to support and brace his
body up, attained a sufficiently elevated position to see and hear what
was going on. He was afraid of nothing but witches, and for that reason
always had a light on hand; it being well known that neither in daylight
nor candle-light was any danger to be apprehended from the 'good
neighbors.' But something or somebody was stirring, and near by, too,
for he evidently heard footsteps and voices, and, as well as he could
make it out, they must be in the stable. Being more or less afflicted
with the rheumatism, he was very deliberate in his movements. First
throwing his somewhat recumbent body into a straight and self-supporting
posture, and thereby relieving his arms from their burden; then casting
aside whatever impeded his progress, in the way of covering, he turned
his nether extremities by the pivot principle, brought himself in
position to stand erect on the floor, and proceeded at once to the
light, which was safely shut up in an old carriage lamp, through which
the rays streamed forth by a small glass, calculated to converge, and
throw them far ahead.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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