American library books Ā» Other Ā» Roughing It by Mark Twain (large screen ebook reader .txt) šŸ“•

Read book online Ā«Roughing It by Mark Twain (large screen ebook reader .txt) šŸ“•Ā».   Author   -   Mark Twain



1 ... 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 ... 164
Go to page:
this time his situation was such that even the most fastidious could find no fault with itā ā€”he was tranquilly, serenely, symmetrically drunkā ā€”not a hiccup to mar his voice, not a cloud upon his brain thick enough to obscure his memory. As I entered, he was sitting upon an empty powder-keg, with a clay pipe in one hand and the other raised to command silence. His face was round, red, and very serious; his throat was bare and his hair tumbled; in general appearance and costume he was a stalwart miner of the period. On the pine table stood a candle, and its dim light revealed ā€œthe boysā€ sitting here and there on bunks, candle-boxes, powder-kegs, etc. They said:

ā€œShā ā€”! Donā€™t speakā ā€”heā€™s going to commence.ā€

The Story of the Old Ram

I found a seat at once, and Blaine said:

ā€œI donā€™t reckon them times will ever come again. There never was a more bullier old ram than what he was. Grandfather fetched him from Illinoisā ā€”got him of a man by the name of Yatesā ā€”Bill Yatesā ā€”maybe you might have heard of him; his father was a deaconā ā€”Baptistā ā€”and 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 probā€™ly the pick of the flock; he married a Wilkersonā ā€”Sarah Wilkersonā ā€”good cretur, she wasā ā€”one of the likeliest heifers that was ever raised in old Stoddard, everybody said that knowed her. She could heft a barā€™l of flour as easy as I can flirt a flapjack. And spin? Donā€™t mention it! Independent? Humph! When Sile Hawkins come a browsing around her, she let him know that for all his tin he couldnā€™t trot in harness alongside of her. You see, Sile Hawkins wasā ā€”no, it warnā€™t Sile Hawkins, after allā ā€”it was a galoot by the name of Filkinsā ā€”I disremember his first name; but he was a stumpā ā€”come into praā€™r 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 Jeffersonā€™s head, poor old filly. She was a good soulā ā€”had a glass eye and used to lend it to old Miss Wagner, that hadnā€™t any, to receive company in; it warnā€™t big enough, and when Miss Wagner warnā€™t 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 didnā€™t 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 wouldnā€™t work, somehowā ā€”the cotton would get loose and stick out and look so kind of awful that the children couldnā€™t 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, ā€˜Your game eye has fetched loose. Miss Wagner dearā€™ā ā€”and then all of them would have to sit and wait till she jammed it in againā ā€”wrong side before, as a general thing, and green as a birdā€™s egg, being a bashful cretur and easy sot back before company. But being wrong side before warnā€™t 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 didnā€™t match nohow. Old Miss Wagner was considerable on the borrow, she was. When she had a quilting, or Dorcas Sā€™iety at her house she genā€™ally borrowed Miss Higginsā€™s wooden leg to stump around on; it was considerable shorter than her other pin, but much she minded that. She said she couldnā€™t 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 Jacopsā€™s wigā ā€”Miss Jacops was the coffin-peddlerā€™s wifeā ā€”a ratty old buzzard, he was, that used to go roosting around where people was sick, waiting for ā€™em; and there that old rip would sit all day, in the shade, on a coffin that he judged would fit the canā€™idate; and if it was a slow customer and kind of uncertain, heā€™d 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 Robbinsā€™s 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 disappā€™inting 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 ā€™peared 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 didnā€™t like the coffin after heā€™d 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, calā€™lating that if he made the trip it was money in his pocket, and if he missed fire he couldnā€™t lose a cent. And

1 ... 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 ... 164
Go to page:

Free e-book: Ā«Roughing It by Mark Twain (large screen ebook reader .txt) šŸ“•Ā»   -   read online now on website american library books (americanlibrarybooks.com)

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment