The Kentuckian in New-York; or, The Adventures of Three Southerns. Volume 1 (of 2)Caruthers, William Alexander
General
The Kentuckian in New-York; or, The Adventures of Three Southerns. Volume 1 (of 2)
Caruthers, William Alexander
Adventure stories; City and town life -- New York (State) -- New York -- Fiction
"An original! When he come to them parts, he drove what we call a Yankee
cart, half wagon and half carriage, full of all sorts of odds and ends;
when he had sold them out, he sold his horse and cart too, and then
turned in to keepin a little old-field school; and over and above this,
he opened a Saturday night singin-school,--and I reckon we had rare
times with the gals there. At last, when the feller had got considerable
ahead, the word came out that he was studyin to be a doctor; and sure
enough, in a few months, he sold out the school for so much a head, just
like we sell our hogs; then off the Yankee starts to git made a doctor
of; and hang me if ever I could see into that business. How they can
turn a pedlar into a doctor in four months, is a leetle jist over my
head. It's true enough they works a mighty change in the chaps in that
time. Our Yankee went off, as well-behaved and as down-faced a chap as
you would wish to see in a hundred, and wore home-made clothes like
mine; but when he had staid his four months out, and 'most everybody had
forgot him, one day as I was leanen up against one of the poplar trees
in the little town, I saw a sign goin up on the side of a house, with
DOCTOR GUN in large letters. I'll take my Bible oath, when I saw the
thing, I thought I should have broke a blood-vessel. Howsomever, I
strained 'em down, till an old woman would have sworn I had the
high-strikes, with a knot o' wind in my guzzle. But I quieted the devil
in me, and then I slipped slyly over the street, behind where the doctor
was standing with his new suit of black; one hand stuck in his side, and
the other holding an ivory-headed stick up to his mouth in the most
knowing fashion, I tell you. I stole up behind him, and bawled out in
his ear, as loud as I could yell, '_faw--sol--law--me_.' Oh! my
grandmother! what a smashin rage he flew into; he shook his cane--he
walked backwards and forwards--and didn't he make the tobacco juice fly?
I rather reckon, if I hadn't had so many inches, he'd have been into my
meat; but the fun of it all was, the feller had foreswore his mother
tongue; dash me if he could talk a word of common lingo, much less sing
psalms and hymns by note; he rattled off words as long as my arm, and as
fast as a windmill. Some of the old knowing ones says they've got some
kind of a mill, like these little hand-organs, and that chops it out to
the chaps eny night and morning, pretty much as I chop straw to my
horses; but I'm going in to see that doctor-factory, when I git to
Philadelphia, if they don't charge a feller more nor half a dollar a
head."
"I hope we shall travel together to Philadelphia," said Lamar; "and if
so, I will introduce you into the establishment, free of expense."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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