Roughing It by Mark Twain (large screen ebook reader .txt) š
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When Orion Clemens is appointed Secretary of the Nevada Territory, his brother Samuel Clemens, better known by his pen name Mark Twain, joins him on his journey west. Together with their all-important six pounds of Unabridged Dictionary they make their way to Nevada in a six-horsed mail coach and are, of course, derailed by all sorts of problems.
In Roughing It Twain combines the beautiful descriptions of the Westās idyllic landscape with his now-patented sense of humor. He joins the silver and gold mining scramble, begins his career as a writer working for different newspapers and journals, visits the Mormons of Salt Lake City, and even makes his way to Hawaii, then still known as the Sandwich Islands.
Roughing It was written as a prequel to his earlier travelogue The Innocents Abroad.
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- Author: Mark Twain
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āShā ā! Donāt speakā āheās going to commence.ā
The Story of the Old Ram
I found a seat at once, and Blaine said:
āI donāt reckon them times will ever come again. There never was a more bullier old ram than what he was. Grandfather fetched him from Illinoisā āgot him of a man by the name of Yatesā āBill Yatesā āmaybe you might have heard of him; his father was a deaconā āBaptistā āand he was a rustler, too; a man had to get up ruther early to get the start of old Thankful Yates; it was him that put the Greens up to jining teams with my grandfather when he moved west. Seth Green was probāly the pick of the flock; he married a Wilkersonā āSarah Wilkersonā āgood cretur, she wasā āone of the likeliest heifers that was ever raised in old Stoddard, everybody said that knowed her. She could heft a barāl of flour as easy as I can flirt a flapjack. And spin? Donāt mention it! Independent? Humph! When Sile Hawkins come a browsing around her, she let him know that for all his tin he couldnāt trot in harness alongside of her. You see, Sile Hawkins wasā āno, it warnāt Sile Hawkins, after allā āit was a galoot by the name of Filkinsā āI disremember his first name; but he was a stumpā ācome into praār meeting drunk, one night, hooraying for Nixon, becuz he thought it was a primary; and old deacon Ferguson up and scooted him through the window and he lit on old Miss Jeffersonās head, poor old filly. She was a good soulā āhad a glass eye and used to lend it to old Miss Wagner, that hadnāt any, to receive company in; it warnāt big enough, and when Miss Wagner warnāt noticing, it would get twisted around in the socket, and look up, maybe, or out to one side, and every which way, while tā other one was looking as straight ahead as a spyglass. Grown people didnāt mind it, but it most always made the children cry, it was so sort of scary. She tried packing it in raw cotton, but it wouldnāt work, somehowā āthe cotton would get loose and stick out and look so kind of awful that the children couldnāt stand it no way. She was always dropping it out, and turning up her old deadlight on the company empty, and making them oncomfortable, becuz she never could tell when it hopped out, being blind on that side, you see. So somebody would have to hunch her and say, āYour game eye has fetched loose. Miss Wagner dearāā āand then all of them would have to sit and wait till she jammed it in againā āwrong side before, as a general thing, and green as a birdās egg, being a bashful cretur and easy sot back before company. But being wrong side before warnāt much difference, anyway; becuz her own eye was sky-blue and the glass one was yaller on the front side, so whichever way she turned it it didnāt match nohow. Old Miss Wagner was considerable on the borrow, she was. When she had a quilting, or Dorcas Sāiety at her house she genāally borrowed Miss Higginsās wooden leg to stump around on; it was considerable shorter than her other pin, but much she minded that. She said she couldnāt abide crutches when she had company, becuz they were so slow; said when she had company and things had to be done, she wanted to get up and hump herself. She was as bald as a jug, and so she used to borrow Miss Jacopsās wigā āMiss Jacops was the coffin-peddlerās wifeā āa ratty old buzzard, he was, that used to go roosting around where people was sick, waiting for āem; and there that old rip would sit all day, in the shade, on a coffin that he judged would fit the canāidate; and if it was a slow customer and kind of uncertain, heād fetch his rations and a blanket along and sleep in the coffin nights. He was anchored out that way, in frosty weather, for about three weeks, once, before old Robbinsās place, waiting for him; and after that, for as much as two years, Jacops was not on speaking terms with the old man, on account of his disappāinting him. He got one of his feet froze, and lost money, too, becuz old Robbins took a favorable turn and got well. The next time Robbins got sick, Jacops tried to make up with him, and varnished up the same old coffin and fetched it along; but old Robbins was too many for him; he had him in, and āpeared to be powerful weak; he bought the coffin for ten dollars and Jacops was to pay it back and twenty-five more besides if Robbins didnāt like the coffin after heād tried it. And then Robbins died, and at the funeral he bursted off the lid and riz up in his shroud and told the parson to let up on the performances, becuz he could not stand such a coffin as that. You see he had been in a trance once before, when he was young, and he took the chances on another, calālating that if he made the trip it was money in his pocket, and if he missed fire he couldnāt lose a cent. And
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