RAYMOND FAIRFAX COLEMAN.
So, Maggie and Thomas J. rid over agin, and bein’ luckier this time, they come a ridin’ back in due time with her relation a settin’ up by her side, big as life, and the boy, Raymond Fairfax Coleman, a settin’ on the front seat by Thomas Jefferson.
The boy’s name seemed bigger than he wuz, bein’ a little, pale runt of a child with long, silky hair and a black velvet suit—dretful small for his age, about seven years old. But I spoze his long curls of light hair and his lace collar made him seem younger, and his childish way of talkin’—he had been babied a good deal I could see. And when he would fix his big blue eyes on you with that sort of a confidin’, perplexed, childish look in ’em, I declare for’t he didn’t look so old as Boy.
But he wuz seven years old, so his Pa told me.
His Pa wuz as big and important-lookin’ as Raymond wuz insignificant. And I sez to Josiah the first chance I got, out to one side, sez I:
“I’ve hearn a sight from old Judge Snow about this relation of hisen bein’ a self-made man;” and sez I, “If he did make himself, he did up the job in quite a good shape, didn’t he?”
Josiah can’t bear to have me praise up any man, married or single, bond or free, only jest himself, and he sez:
“If I had made him I would have put in some improvements on him. I wouldn’t have had him so cussed big feelin’ for one thing.”
I wuz deeply mortified to hear him use that wicked word, and told him so.