“Yes; slain by his own deviltry! Oh, he had a busy night! Got to playin' with our ol' cat; he polished her an' she polished him. Her paws are all gummed up an' her eyes swelled an' kind o' shiny. He got at our shepherd dog an' polished him. That dog has got a sore mouth an' is brighter than he ever was before, The last performance of your puppy was to tackle one o' the hind feet o' my ol' mare; he didn't live long after that. The services have begun, an' I guess you're the only mourner. I've just prayed that I may never see him again. The sermon will be short. Don't ever take up any more room in the world than what you're entitled to.”
So ended my first adventure in business. It taught me the wisdom of knowing how, and of being sure about it, and, further, that one is to be careful not to take more than his share of room in the world.
ADVENTURE VII.—WHICH IS THAT OF CRICKET AND THE LOVER AND THE POTATO-SACK
HE farmer in whose house I had spent the night was a thrifty man of the name of Ephraim Baker. My hope in Sal having been overthrown, I offered him my services. I had had enough of disappointment and uncertainty.
“You don't look stout,” said he, “but you ought to be able to mow away an' rake after.” Well, I made a bargain with him, and went to work at once. My first task was to lead a great bull to water. He stood in the stable with a ring in his nose, and roared as I took him out. It was like leading a thunder-storm, but I thought of what General Washington would have done, and walked without flinching. I was surprised to see how easily I could handle the big bull with that ring in his nose. After this initiation the harvesters—big, cordy fellows—tried to bury me in the mow. They always did that with a fresh hand, “to see what he was made of.” Well, I kept my head and shoulders above the grain, although they had given me a fork with three corners on the stale. It was a hard pace they set me, and I lay down at night like a wounded soldier.