Adventure stories; Americans -- Foreign countries -- Fiction; Balloon ascensions -- Fiction; Sawyer, Tom (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
“Well, I ain’t denying that a thing’s a lesson if it’s a thing that can
happen twice just the same way. There’s lots of such things, and _they_
educate a person, that’s what Uncle Abner always said; but there’s
forty _million_ lots of the other kind—the kind that don’t happen the
same way twice—and they ain’t no real use, they ain’t no more
instructive than the small-pox. When you’ve got it, it ain’t no good to
find out you ought to been vaccinated, and it ain’t no good to git
vaccinated afterward, because the small-pox don’t come but once. But,
on the other hand, Uncle Abner said that the person that had took a
bull by the tail once had learnt sixty or seventy times as much as a
person that hadn’t, and said a person that started in to carry a cat
home by the tail was gitting knowledge that was always going to be
useful to him, and warn’t ever going to grow dim or doubtful. But I can
tell you, Jim, Uncle Abner was down on them people that’s all the time
trying to dig a lesson out of everything that happens, no matter
whether—”
But Jim was asleep. Tom looked kind of ashamed, because you know a
person always feels bad when he is talking uncommon fine and thinks the
other person is admiring, and that other person goes to sleep that way.
Of course he oughtn’t to go to sleep, because it’s shabby; but the
finer a person talks the certainer it is to make you sleep, and so when
you come to look at it it ain’t nobody’s fault in particular; both of
them’s to blame.
Jim begun to snore—soft and blubbery at first, then a long rasp, then a
stronger one, then a half a dozen horrible ones like the last water
sucking down the plug-hole of a bath-tub, then the same with more power
to it, and some big coughs and snorts flung in, the way a cow does that
is choking to death; and when the person has got to that point he is at
his level best, and can wake up a man that is in the next block with a
dipperful of loddanum in him, but can’t wake himself up although all
that awful noise of his’n ain’t but three inches from his own ears. And
that is the curiosest thing in the world, seems to me. But you rake a
match to light the candle, and that little bit of a noise will fetch
him. I wish I knowed what was the reason of that, but there don’t seem
to be no way to find out. Now there was Jim alarming the whole Desert,
and yanking the animals out, for miles and miles around, to see what in
the nation was going on up there; there warn’t nobody nor nothing that
was as close to the noise as _he_ was, and yet he was the only cretur
that wasn’t disturbed by it. We yelled at him and whooped at him, it
never done no good; but the first time there come a little wee noise
that wasn’t of a usual kind it woke him up. No, sir, I’ve thought it
all over, and so has Tom, and there ain’t no way to find out why a
snorer can’t hear himself snore.
Jim said he hadn’t been asleep; he just shut his eyes so he could
listen better.
Tom said nobody warn’t accusing him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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