I say, when all this had happened, and much more besides, I could yet feel resigned to my fate.
Then when at Dawson I could hear the shrill whistle from the would-be wag, and hear:
"He's all the way from Puy-al-lup," I could yet remain in composure.
Then when, at night at the theaters, the jesters would say:
"Whar was it, stranger, you said you was from?"
"Puy-al-lup!"
"Oh, you did?" followed by roars of laughter all over the house. And all this I could hear with seeming equanimity.
But when letters began to come addressed "Pew-lupe," "Polly-pup," "Pull-all-up," "Pewl-a-loop," and finally "Pay-all-up," then my cup of sorrow was full and I was ready to put on sackcloth and ashes.
The name for the town, however, came about in this way: In the early days we had a postoffice, Franklin. Sometimes it was on one side of the river and then again on the other; sometimes way to one side of the settlement and then again to the other. It was not much trouble those days to move a postoffice. One could almost carry the whole outfit in one's pocket.