My Life: or the Adventures of Geo. Thompson: Being the Auto-Biography of an Author. Written by Himself.Thompson, George
General
My Life: or the Adventures of Geo. Thompson: Being the Auto-Biography of an Author. Written by Himself.
Thompson, George
Authors, American -- 19th century -- Biography; Thompson, George, 1823-
"Vat is dish?" said he, "a harp? Oh, dat is no use. We have tousands
such tings offered every day. Dere is no shecurity in mushical
instruments. Vat do you want for it?"
"Ten dollars," I replied, in a tone of decision.
"Can't give it," said the Israelite--"it ish too moosh. Give you eight."
"No," said I, taking up the harp and preparing to depart.
"Here, den," said _my uncle_, "I will give you ten, but only shust to
_oblishe_ you--mind dat."
I duly thanked him for his willingness to _oblige_ me. Uncle Moses gave
me the ticket and money; and I left the shop and rejoined Mrs. Raymond,
to whom I handed over the duplicate and the X.
"I will take the ticket," said she, smiling--"but you shall keep the
money, for I appoint you my cashier."
At the suggestion of my fair friend we now sought out a cheap
second-hand clothing establishment, which, fortunately, was kept by a
woman, who, when matters were confidentially explained to her, readily
entered into our plan. Mrs. Raymond and the woman retired into a rear
apartment, while I remained in the shop.
Half or three-quarters of an hour passed away. At last the door of the
inner apartment was opened and there entered the shop a young person
whom I did not immediately recognize. This person seemed to be a very
beautiful boy, neatly dressed in a cloth jacket and cap, and possessing
a form of the most exquisite symmetry. This pretty and interesting lad
approached me, and tapping me playfully upon the cheek, said--
"My dear fellow, how do you like me now? Have I not made a change for
the better? How queenly I feel in this strange rig!"
It was of course Mrs. Raymond who addressed me. Her disguise was
perfect; never before had I seen so complete a transformation, even upon
the stage. No one would have suspected her to be otherwise than what she
seemed, a singularly delicate and handsome boy, apparently about sixteen
years of age.
I congratulated the lady upon the admirable appearance which she made in
her newly adopted costume, but expressed my regret that she should have
been compelled to part with her magnificent hair.
"There was no help for it," said she, laughing. "I confess that I
experienced some regret when I felt my hair tumbling from my shoulders;
but the loss was unavoidable, for those tresses would have betrayed my
sex. This good woman, here, proved to be a very expert barber."
Reflecting that a coarse suit of clothes would be just as good and
better, for a dusty road, than a fine suit of broadcloth, I made a
bargain with the proprietress of the shop to exchange my garments for
coarse ones of fustian, she giving me a reasonable sum to
counter-balance the great superiority of my wardrobe. This arrangement
was speedily completed, and I found myself suddenly transformed into a
rustic looking individual, who, in appearance, certainly deserved the
title of a perfect "greenhorn."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account