Sheppard Lee, Written by Himself. Vol. 2 (of 2)Bird, Robert Montgomery
General
Sheppard Lee, Written by Himself. Vol. 2 (of 2)
Bird, Robert Montgomery
American fiction -- 19th century; Satire
whose hands lie the reins of power, and who will use them for good or
bad purposes, according as they are kept in a good or bad humour. It
is to these things we trace, besides the general demoralization ever
resulting from passions long encouraged, besides the unwilling and
unthankful reception of benefits coming from the hands of the detested,
all those political evils which demagoguism, agrarianism, mobocracism,
and all other _isms_ of a vulgar stamp, have brought upon the land.
There is pride in the poor, as well as the rich: the wise man and the
patriot will take care not to offend it.
Reader, if thou art a rich man, and despisest thy neighbour, remember
that he has a thousand friends of his class where thou hast one of
thine, and that he can beat thee at the elections. If thou art a
gentleman, remember that thy cobbler is another, or thinks himself
so--which is all the same thing in America. At all events, remember
_this_--namely, that the poor man will find no fault with thy wealth,
if thou findest none with his poverty.
15. CHAPTER XV.
AN UNCOMMON ADVENTURE THAT BEFELL THE AUTHOR.
I said that, just as I arrived at the door of my dwelling, an adventure
befell me; and truly, it was such an extraordinary one as has happened
to no other individual in the land since the days of the unfortunate
William Morgan. As I passed towards the door, a man whose countenance I
could not see, for it was more than two hours after nightfall, and who
seemed to have been lying in wait on the stoop, suddenly started up,
exclaiming, in accents highly nasal, and somewhat dolorous,
"Well! I guess, if there's no offence, there's no mistake. I rather
estimate that you're Mr. Zachariah Longstraw?"
"Well, friend! and what is that _thy_ business?" said I, in no amiable
tone.
"Well, not above more than's partickilar," said the stranger; "but
I've heern tell much on your goodness, and I'm in rather a bit of the
darnedest pickle jist now, with a sick wife and nine small children,
the oldest only six years old, that ever you heerd tell on. And so, I
rather estimated--"
"Thee may estimate theeself to the devil," said I. "How can the oldest
child of nine be only six years old?"
"Oh, darn it," said the fellow, "there was three on 'em twins. But if
you'll jest step round to my wife, she'll tell you all about it. Always
heern you was a great andyfist, or what-d'-ye-call-it."
"Then thee has heard a great lie," said I, "and so thee may go about
thee business, for I'll give thee nothing."
"Well now, do tell!" said the man, with a tone of surprise that
conveyed a part of the emotion to myself, particularly when, by way
of pointing his discourse with the broadest note of admiration, he
suddenly clapped a foot to my heels, and laid me sprawling on the broad
of my back.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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