“I should think as much,” says I. For as true as I live, when the Editor of the Auger’ses wife laid it over her arm, it touched the floor head and tail; and it made her fairly lean over it was so heavy. And I thought to myself that I could have tackled the biggest political question of the day, easier than I could tackle that whale, and carry it a mile and a half. And so the Editor of the Auger’ses wife went home from ’lection, luggin’ a whale, and walkin’ afoot.
I picked out my buttons, five cents a dozen, and bought my cotton flannel, and no Josiah. I felt worried in my mind. I thought of that mysterious bundle, and my companion’s strange and curious looks as he brought it out from the barn, seemin’ly unbeknown to me, and his dretful curious actions about it as he meached out of the buggy with it. And I felt worried, and almost by the side of myself. But I kep’ a cool demeanor on the outside of me—it is my way in the time of trouble to be calm, and put my best foot forred.
Jest then a man come up to me that I never laid eyes on before. He was a poor lookin’ shack; his eyes was white mostly, and stood out of his head as if in search for some of the sense he never could git holt of, and his mouth was about half open. A dretful shiftless lookin’ critter, and ragged as a Jew—all but his coat, and I’ll be hanged if that didn’t look worse than if his clothes was all of a piece. It was a blue broadcloth coat, swaller tailed, and had been a dretful genteel coat in the day of it—which I should judge was some fifty or sixty years previous to date. It was awful long waisted, and small round, and what they call single breasted; it turned back at the breast in a low, genteel way, over his old ragged vest; and ragged, red woolen shirt, and pinched him in at the bottom of his waist like a pismire, and the tails floated down behind, so polite over his pantaloons, which was fairly rags and tatters. As I said, I never laid eyes on him before, and still as he come up, and stood before me, I felt a curious, and strange feelin’ go most through me; sunthin’ in the arrer way. A curiouser more familiar-like, strange feelin’, I never felt. But I didn’t know then what it meant, I was in the dark. But more of this, anon, and hereafter.
THE STRANGER.
Says the man, says he; “I beg your parding mom, for speaking to you, but you have got such a dretful good look to your face, somehow—,” (Truly as I have said prior, and before this, my trials with the Widder Doodle, my martyrdom on the stake of Doodle and particulars, borne like a martyr, have purified my mean and make me look first-rate.) Says the man, says he: “You look so good, somehow, that I want to ask your advice.”
Says I kindly, “I am a Promiscous Advisor by trade; advisin’ is my mission and my theme. Ask me any advice my honest man, that you feel called to ask, and I will proceed to preform about my mission.”
He handed me a ticket, with a awful dirty hand, every finger nail of which was seemin’ly in the deepest of mournin’ for the pen-knife and nail-brushes they never had seen; and says he, “Will you tell me mom, whether that ticket is a democrat ticket, or the t’other one?”
I put on my specks, and says I, “It is the t’other one.”
“Good Gracious!” says he; “Christopher Columbus! Pocahontas! Jim Crow and Jehosiphat!” says he. But I interrupted of him coldly, and says I: