The Four-Masted Cat-Boat, and Other Truthful TalesLoomis, Charles Battell
General
The Four-Masted Cat-Boat, and Other Truthful Tales
Loomis, Charles Battell
American fiction -- 19th century; Humorous stories, American; Manners and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, American
“Why didn’t he sue the comp’ny?” asked Jed.
“’At’s what I advised him doin’, but he said ’twa’n’t no use.”
“I think I heard ’baout his havin’ a fortin left him at the time, but
I thought it was f’om a cousin down in South America,” Jed went on,
looking inquiringly at Sam.
“Heh, heh! thet was another time,” said Sam, with his dry little
laugh. “Good nation! ef all the luck thet’s threatened to hit him hed
_done_ it, he’d be the richest man in this caounty. I tell ye, good
luck’s allers a-sniffin’ at his heels, but he don’t never git bit.
This time he got a letter f’om his cousin, tellin’ him he’d allers
felt sorry he hed sech poor luck, an’ he’d made him sole heir of
his estate, prob’ly wuth a couple o’ thousand dollars. He hed some
oncurable disease, he wrote, an’ the doctors didn’t give him over
three months to live--”
“S’pose he lived forever,” put in Jed, chuckling.
“No, sir; he died in good shape, an’ in fac’ he bettered his word,
for he didn’t live two months f’om the time he wrote to Seth; but I’m
blessed ef they didn’t find there was some claim against the estate
thet et it all up. Well, sir, I never saw any one laugh so hard ez
Seth when he heard the news. It struck him ez a dretful good joke.”
“He must hev a purty paowerful sense of the ridikerlus,” said Jed,
dryly.
“Well, he hez,” assented Sam, rubbing his knees with his horny hands.
“Ain’t no better comp’ny ’an Seth. Ain’t never daownhearted.”
After a moment’s silence Silas smiled, and, closing his eyes, pinched
them between thumb and forefinger as if calling up some pleasing
recollection. At last he said: “Ye know, Seth allers works by the
day. He gin’ally has enough to do to keep him busy, an’ allers doos
his work up slick, but he never hed stiddy employment, on’y once, an’
then it lasted on’y one day. ’Member that, Sam? Time he went to work
at the Nutmeg State clock-shop?”
“_Yes_, yes,” laughed Sam, driving a loose nail into the platform
with his heel.
“Stiddy employment fer a day, eh?” said Jed, grinning. “Thet’s ’baout
ez stiddy ez my hired man, an’ he ain’t stiddy at all.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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