HOW
DEACON FRY BOUGHT A “DUCHESS.”
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It
sorter skeer’d the neighbours round,
For of all the ‘tarnal
set thet clutches
Their dollars firm, he wus the boss;
An’ yet he went and
byed a “Duchess.” [Page 214]
I never will forget the day
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He
druv her from the city market;
I guess thar warn’t more’n two
Thet stayed to hum thet
day in Clarket.
And one of them wus Gran’pa Finch,
Who’s bed-rid up to
Spense’s attic:
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The
other Aunt Mehitabel,
Whose jints and temper is
rheumatic.
She said she “guessed that Deacon Fry
Would some day see he’d
done more fitter
To send his dollars savin’ souls
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Than
waste ‘em on a horn’d critter!”
We all turn’d out at Pewse’s store,
The last one jest inside
the village;
The Jedge he even chanc’d along,
And so did good old Elder
Millage.
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We
sot around on kegs and planks,
And on the fence we loung’d
precarious;
The Elder felt to speak a word,
And sed his thoughts wus
very various.
He sed the Deacon call’d to mind
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The
blessed patriarchs and their cattle;
“To whose herds cum a great increase
When they in furrin parts
did settle.”
We nodded all our skulls at this,
But Argue Bill he rapped
his crutches;
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Sed
he, “I guess they never paid
Five hundred dollars for
a ‘Duchess.’” [Page 215]
Bill and the Elder allers froze
To subjects sorter disputatious,
So on the ’lasses keg they sot,
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And
had an argue fair and spacious.
Good land! when Solon cum in sight,
By lawyer Smithett’s
row o’ beeches;
His black span seemed to crawl along
Ez slow ez Dr. Jones’s
leeches.
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Sez Sister Fry, who was along,
“I sorter think my
specs is muggy;
“But Solon started out from hum
“This mornin’
in the new top buggy.
“Jeddiah rid old chestnut Jim,
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“An’
Sammy rid the roan filly;
“I told ’em when they started off
“It looked redikless,
soft and silly,
“To see three able-bodied men
“An’ four stout
horses drive one critter;
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“O
land o’ song! Will some one look?
“From hed to foot
I’m in a twitter.”
Wal, up we swarm’d on Pewse’s fence,
And Bill he histed on his
crutches;
We all was curus to behold
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The
Deac’s five hundred dollar “Duchess.”
I’ve heerd filosofurs declar,
This life be’s kind
o’ snarly jinted;
And every human standin’ thar
Felt sorter gin’ral
disappointed. [Page 216] |
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What
sort o’ crazy animile
Hed got the Deacon in its
clutches?
They cum along in spankin’ style—
Old Solon and his sons and
“Duchess.”
Her heels wus up, her hed wus down,
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An
or’nary cross-gritted critter
As ever browsed around the town,
And kept the women folks
a-twitter,
A-boostin’ up the garding rails,
And browsin’ on the
factory bleachin’,
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And
kickin’ up the milkin’ pails:
Bill he riz up, ez true
ez preachin’.
Sez he, excited like, “I’ll ’low,
To swaller both these here
old crutches—
Ef thet ain’t Farmer Slyby’s cow,
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Old
Bossie turn’d inter a “Duchess!”
Wal, ’twus k’rect! The Deacon swore
Some hefty swars and sot
the clutches
Of law to work; but seed no more
That chap thet sold him
thet thar “Duchess.” [Page 217]
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