The Autobiography of a Quack, and The Case of George DedlowMitchell, S. Weir (Silas Weir)
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The Autobiography of a Quack, and The Case of George Dedlow
Mitchell, S. Weir (Silas Weir)
Didactic fiction; Political fiction; Social problems -- Fiction
I do not desire to dwell on the after conduct of this hot-headed young
man. It was the more disgraceful as I offered but little resistance, and
endured a beating such as I would have hesitated to inflict upon a dog.
Nor was this all. He warned me that if I dared to remain in the city
after a week he would shoot me. In the East I should have thought
but little of such a threat, but here it was only too likely to
be practically carried out. Accordingly, with my usual decision of
character, but with much grief and reluctance, I collected my whole
fortune, which now amounted to at least seven thousand dollars, and
turned my back upon this ungrateful town. I am sorry to say that I also
left behind me the last of my good luck.
I traveled in a leisurely way until I reached Boston. The country
anywhere would have been safer, but I do not lean to agricultural
pursuits. It seemed an agreeable city, and I decided to remain.
I took good rooms at Parker’s, and concluding to enjoy life, amused
myself in the company of certain, I may say uncertain, young women who
danced at some of the theaters. I played billiards, drank rather too
much, drove fast horses, and at the end of a delightful year was shocked
to find myself in debt, and with only seven dollars and fifty-three
cents left--I like to be accurate. I had only one resource: I determined
to visit my deaf aunt and Peninnah, and to see what I could do in the
role of the prodigal nephew. At all events, I should gain time to think
of what new enterprise I could take up; but, above all, I needed a
little capital and a house over my head. I had pawned nearly everything
of any value which I possessed.
I left my debts to gather interest, and went away to Woodbury. It was
the day before Christmas when I reached the little Jersey town, and
it was also by good luck Sunday. I was hungry and quite penniless. I
wandered about until church had begun, because I was sure then to find
Aunt Rachel and Peninnah out at the service, and I desired to explore a
little. The house was closed, and even the one servant absent. I got in
with ease at the back through the kitchen, and having at least an hour
and a half free from interruption, I made a leisurely search. The
role of prodigal was well enough, but here was a better chance and an
indulgent opportunity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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