Sheppard Lee, Written by Himself. Vol. 1 (of 2)Bird, Robert Montgomery
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Sheppard Lee, Written by Himself. Vol. 1 (of 2)
Bird, Robert Montgomery
American fiction -- 19th century; Satire
The accents were more horrible to my soul than the grating of a
dentist's file upon the tenderest of grinders. I looked up from my
feet, which I had been admiring, and beheld a visage somewhat iracund
and savage, but so vulgar and plebeian in all its lineaments, that my
fear was changed into contempt.
"And I say, sare! whoever you ah," said I, looking the fellow to the
soul, "what do you want he-ah? who ah you?"
At these questions the man looked petrified; he opened his mouth till
I thought his under jaw would drop off, and stared at me in dumb
amazement. I had some hopes he was about to fall down in a fit. I am
not naturally of a bloodthirsty turn; but I knew he was a dun, and such
persons one always wishes the devil would snatch up. But he recovered
his tongue, and, to do him justice, I must confess he used it with a
spirit I did not look for in such a mean, shrivelled-up body as he had.
"Don't go for to insult me," said the Goth, gritting his teeth, and
spluttering his words through them as through a watering-pot; "I'll let
you know who I am. I'll have my money, or I'll have the worth on it out
on you; for I won't be cheated no more for nothing. And as for what I'm
doing here, I'll let you know as how I'm master in my own house; and,
as Mrs. Sniggles says--"
"Sniggles!" said I, recollecting that the rascal was my landlord and
creditor. I started up, and seizing the enraged little man by the hand,
I begged his pardon.
"Really, my dear soul," said I, "I was in a brown study, and I didn't
know you. Pray how d'ye do? how is Mrs. Sniggles? You must know I have
hardly yet got over my unfortunate fall into the water. Really, sah, I
was almost drowned, and I had the misfortune to lose my pocketbook."
"None on your gammon on me!" said Mr. Sniggles, looking as intrepid as
ever; "for I don't believe none on it; and I don't believe you're no
gentleman neither, or you wouldn't keep me out of my money. You see,
Mr. Dawkins, do you see, you've had my rooms five months, and I ha'n't
seen the colour on your money over once; it's all promise and no pay.
And so, as I was saying, I won't be diddled no longer, or I'll see the
end of it; for, as Mrs. Sniggles says, we can't afford to be diddled
for nothing."
"Come, Sniggles," said I, "don't be in a passion; I'll pay you. What's
the amount?"
"Seventeen weeks on the second story, seven dollars a week--monstrous
cheap at that, considerin' there's breakfast in--one hundred and
nineteen dollars--and taking off the ten dollars you paid me, as per
account, one hundred and nine dollars; four weeks on the third story,
at five dollars and a half (and good rooms too), twenty-two dollars;
and adding the ten dollars I paid the shoe-maker, and the five dollars
sixty cents I loaned you to pay the fine at the mayor's office, for
smashing the lamp, makes jest a hundred and forty-one dollars sixty
cents, no halves nor quarters, precise; and the sooner you shows me the
money the better."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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