They took the advantage on him; you know he wuz blind, and couldn’t skirmish round and look into things; so Paradise or not, they got the better of him.
And then his widder; why didn’t they try to do as they ort to by Miss Milton? She sold out root and branch for eight dollars—the idee! Why, how many copies have been sold of that book? Enough to build up a mountain as high as the Catskills.
8 pounds for ’em—what a shame!
The publishers are dead, I spoze; yes, I spoze Samuel Symon passed away years ago, but he left quite a big family, and they all seem to foller the old gentleman’s plans, and are doin’ first-rate and layin’ up money real fast.
And I see Hogarth’s receipts for some of his picters. And there wuz the very prayer-book used by Lady Jane Grey on the scaffold.
“Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place for all generations,” and “though I walk through the valley and the shadow of death” I will be with thee. I wonder if she heard the words when the shadders lay so dark on her pretty head?
Then there wuz letters writ in their own hands from Martin Luther, Oliver Cromwell, Mary Queen of Scots, Queen Elizabeth, Peter the Great, Dudley, Leicester, Francis Bacon. And there wuzn’t a word in Francises letter, so fur as I see, as to whether he wuz Shakespeare or not, or whether Shakespeare wuz him.
I wish I knew how it wuz!
And there wuz papers and letters from all the kings and emperors, and George Washington right amongst ’em—it kinder tickled my pride to see George there, but he deserved it.
Then there wuz the old bull that gin Henry the VIII. the name of Defender of the Faith. What kind of faith did he act out—the faith that he could marry more wimmen and chop their heads off than any other old creeter this side of Blue Beard.