After I had walked about three or four hours I come along towards the
upper end of the town where I found there were stores and shops of all
sorts and sizes. And I met a feller, and says I, what place is this? Why
this says he, is Huckler's Row. What, says I, are these the stores where
the traders in Huckler's Row keep? And says he, yes. Well then, thinks I
to myself, I have a pesky good mind to go in and have a try with one of
these chaps, and see if they can twist my eye teeth out. If they can get
the best end of a bargain out of me, they can do what there aint a man
in Downingville can do, and I should jest like to know what sort of
stuff these ere Portland chaps are made of. So in I goes into the best
looking store among 'em. And I see some biscuit lying on the shelf, and
says I, Mister, how much do you ax apiece for them are biscuit? A cent
apiece, says he. Well, says I, I shant give you that, but if you 've a
mind to, I'll give you two cents for three of 'em, for I begin to feel a
little as though I should like to take a bite. Well, says he, I would n't
sell 'em to any body else so, but seeing it 's you I dont care if you
take 'em. I knew he lied, for he never see me before in his life. Well
he handed down the biscuits and I took 'em, and walked round the store
awhile to see what else he had to sell. At last, says I, Mister, have
you got any good new cider? Says he, yes, as good as ever you see. Well,
says I, what do you ax a glass for it? Two cents, says he. Well, says I,
seems to me I feel more dry than I do hungry now. Aint you a mind to
take these ere biscuit again and give me a glass of cider? And says he,
I dont care if I do; so he took and laid 'em on the shelf again, and
poured out a glass of cider. I took the cider and drinkt it down, and to
tell the truth it was capital good cider. Then, says I, I guess it 's
time for me to be a going, and I stept along towards the door. But, says
he, stop Mister. I believe you have 'nt paid me for the cider. Not paid
you for the cider, says I, what do you mean by that? Did n't the biscuit
that I give you jest come to the cider? Oh, ah, right, says he. So I
started to go again; and says he, but stop, Mister, you did n't pay me
for the biscuit. What, says I, do you mean to impose upon me? do you
think I am going to pay you for the biscuit and let you keep 'em tu?
Aint they there now on your shelf, what more do you want? I guess sir,
you dont whittle me in that way. So I turned about and marched off, and
left the feller staring and thinking and scratching his head, as though
he was struck with a dunderment. Howsomever, I did n't want to cheat him,
only jest to show 'em it want so easy a matter to pull my eye teeth out,
so I called in next day and paid him his two cents. Well I staid at Ant
Sally's a week or two, and I went about town every day to see what
chance I could find to trade off my ax handles, or hire out, or find
some way or other to begin to seek my fortune.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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