“Well, I’ll be dod drapt!” he exclaimed, at the same time drawing a long breath, and dropping the thimble. “Derned ef it’s thar! Four hundred and fifty-one dollars no cents gone agin! Heven and airth, what’ll Mahaly and the gals say! I’ll never heer the eend of it tel I’m in my grave. Then thar’s Pete! Gee-mi-my! jest to think o’ Pete—fur him to know his ole daddy wus made a fool of too! four hundred and fifty-one dollars no cents! but I wouldn’t keer that for it,” snapping his fingers, “ef it wern’t fur Pete.”
The Gimblit man reminded our friend of the result of his bet, by telling him that the sooner he unloaded the better.
“Now you ain’t, shore ’nuff, in yearnest,” said the old man.
“Dead earnest,” returned Barker.
“Well, stranger,” added our friend, “I’se a honest man, and stands squar up to my contracts.”
With this he had his cargo discharged into the street, and ordering Bob to drive on, he mounted his mare, and set out for home with a heavier heart than he had ever known before. ’Twere useless to attempt a description of the scene which transpired on the farmer’s return home. The first words he uttered were, “Pete, durned ef I hain’t lost it too.” The misfortunes of his trip were soon all told, after which Peter and his father wisely resolved never to bet on anything again, especially “them blamed Yankee Thimbles.”
It is not to be supposed that Mrs. Wilkins, Pete, or the gals, could help teasing the old man occasionally on the result of his trip. Whenever he became refractory, his wife would stick her thimble on the end on her finger, and hold it up for him to look at—it acted like a charm. His misadventure, too, raised higher than ever his opinion of the cunning and sagacity of “them Augusty fellers!”
A few years succeeding the events which we have attempted to narrate, and Farmer Wilkins was gathered to his fathers; but his trip to Augusta is still preserved as a warning to all honest and simple-hearted people. The last words of the old man to his son were:
“Peter, Peter, my son, always be honest, never forgit your ole daddy, and allers bewar of them Gimblit fellers, down to Augusty.”
Reader! every tale has its moral, nor is ours without one. Not only did Peter learn from his adventure in Augusta, the evils of betting, but ever since the time to which we have alluded, he always allows his factor to sell his cotton for him. Whatever you may think of it, both Peter and his father came to the conclusion that there was “no use in tryin’ to git the upper hand of one o’ them Gimblet fellers down to Augusty.”