The Yankee In A Boarding School
by
“Well, squire, as I wer’ tellin’ on ye, when I went around pedlin’ notions, I met many queer folks; some on ’em so darn’d preoud and sassy, they wouldn’t let a feller look at ’em; a-n-d ‘d shut their doors and gates, bang into a feller’s face, jest as ef a Yankee pedler was a pizen sarpint! Then there waa-s t’other kind o’ human critters, so pesky poor, or ‘nation stingy, they’d pinch a fourpence till it’d squeal like a stuck pig. Ye-e-s, I do swow, I’ve met some critters so dog-ratted mean, that ef you had sot a steel trap onder their beds, a-n-d baited it with three cents, yeou’d a cotch ther con-feoun-ded souls afore mornin’!”
“Massy sakes!” responded the squire.
“Fact! by ginger!” echoed the ex-pedler.
“Well, go on, Ab,” said the squire, giving his pipe another ‘charge,’ and lighting up for the yarn Absalom Slamm had promised the gals, soon as the quilt was out and refreshments were handed around.
“Go on, Ab–let’s hear abeout that scrape yeou had with the school marm and her gals.”
“Wall, I will, squire; gals, spread yeourselves areound and squat; take care o’ yeour corset strings, and keep deth-ly still. Wall; neow, yeou all sot? Hain’t none o’ ye been in the pedlin’ business, I guess; wall, no matter, tho’ it’s dread-ful pleasant sometimes: then again at others, ‘taint.”
“Go on, Ab, go on,” said the squire.
“Ye-e-s; wall, as I was saying, ‘beout tradin’, none o’ yeou ever been in the tradin’ way? Wall, it deon’t matter a cent; as I was agoin’ to say, I had hard, hard luck one season–got clean busted all tew smash! O-o-o! it was dre-a-a-dful times; jest abeout the time Gineral Jackson clapped his we-toe on the hull o’ the banks, kersock. Wall, yeou see, I got broke all tew flinders. My ole hoss died, the sun and rain beat up my wagon, I sold eout my notions tew a feller that paid me all in ceounter-fit money, and then he dug eout, as Parson Dodge says, to undiskivered kedn’try.
“There was only one way abeout it; I was beound to dew somethin’, instead o’ goin’ to set deown and blubber; and as I layed stretched eout in bed one Sunday morning, in Marm Smith’s tavern, in the cockloft among the old stuff, I spies a darn’d ole consarn that took my fancy immazin’! As Deb Brown said, when she ‘sperienced rele-gen, I felt my sperrets raisin’ me clean eout o’ bed, and eout I beounced, like a pea in a hot skillet. Deown I goes to Marm Smith; the ole lady was dressed up to death in her Sunday-go-to-meetin’s, and jest as preoud and sassy as her darn’d ole skin ceould heould in.
“‘Marm Smith,’ sez I, ‘yeou hain’t got no ole stuff yeou deon’t want tew sell nor nuthin’, dew ye?’
“‘ Ab Slamm,’ sez she, plantin’ her thumbs on her hip joints, and as the milishey officer ses on trainin’ day, comin’ at me, ‘right face,’ she spread herself like a clapboard. ‘Ab Slamm,’ sez she, ‘what on airth possesses yeou to talk o’ tradin’ on the Sabbath?’
“‘Wall,’ sez I, ‘Marm Smith, yeou needn’t take on so ‘beout it; I guess a feller kin ax a question witheout tradin’ or breakin’ the Sabbath all tew smash, either! Neow,’ says I, ‘yeou got some ole plunder up ther in the cockloft, where yeou stuck me to sleep; ’tain’t much use to yeou, and one article I see I want to trade fur.’
“Wall, we didn’t trade ‘zactly. Marm Smith, yeou see, got dre-e-e-adful relejus ‘beout that time–wouldn’t let her gals draw ther breth scacely, and shot her roosters all up in the cellar every Sunday. Fact, by ginger! Wall, yeou see, Marm Smith were agin tradin’ on Sunday, but she sed I might arrange it with Ben, her barkeeper, and so I got the instrument, any heow.”