CHAPTER VIII.
The next morning Cicely wuzn't able to leave her room,—no sick seemin'ly, but fagged out. She was a delicate little creeter always, and seemed to grow delicater every day.
So Miss Smith went with me, and she and I sallied out alone: her name bein' Sally, too, made it seem more singuler and coincidin'.
She asked me if I didn't want to go to the Patent Office.
And I told her, “Yes,” And I told her of Betsy Bobbet's errent, and that Josiah had charged me expresly to go there, and get him a patent pail. He needed a new milk-pail, and thought I could get it cheaper right on the spot.
And she said that Josiah couldn't buy his pail there. But she told me what sights and sights of things there wus to be seen there; and I found out when I got there, that she hadn't told me the 1/2 or the 1/4 of the sights I see.
Why, I could pass a month there in perfect destraction and happiness, the sights are so numerous, and exceedingly destractin' and curious.
But I told Sally Smith plainly, that I wasn't half so much interested in apple-parers and snow-plows, and the first sewin'-machine and the last one, and steam-engines and hair-pins and pianos and thimbles, and the acres and acres of glass cases containing every thing that wus ever heard of, and every thing that never wus heard of by anybody, and etcetery, etcetery, and so 4th, and so 4th. And you might string them words out over choirs and choirs of paper, and not get half an idee of what is to be seen there.
But I told her I didn't feel half so interested in them things as I did in the copyright. I told Sally plain “that I wanted to see the place where the copyrights on books was made. And I wanted to see the man who made 'em.”