But all the chafing in the world could not help
matters, and they were forced to take things as they came.
A place was found among the sailors for Aleck, and soon he began
to feel like himself once more. But the sea did not suit the
colored man, and he was as anxious as his masters to reach shore
once more.
"It's a pity da can't build a mighty bridge over de ocean, an' run
kyars," he said. "Den nobody would git seasick."
"Perhaps they'll have a bridge some day resting on boats, Aleck,"
answered Tom.
"But I don't expect to live to see it."
"Yo' don't know about dat, chile. Look at uddert'ings. Did
yo'gran'fadder expect to ride at de rate ob sixty miles an hour?
Did he expect to send a telegram to San Francisco in a couple ob
minutes? Did he eber dream ob talkin' to sumboddy in Chicago froo
a telephone? Did he knew anyt'ing about electric lights, or
movin' pictures, or carriages wot aint got no bosses, but run wid
gasoline or sumfing like dat? I tell yo, Massah Tom, we don't
know wot we is comin' to!"
"You are quite right, Alexander," said Mr. Rover, who had
overheard the talk. "Science is making wonderful strides. Some
day I expect to grow com and wheat, yes, potatoes and other
vegetables, by electricity," and then Randolph Rover branched off
into a long discourse on scientific farming that almost took away
poor Aleck's breath.
"He's a most wonderful man, yo' uncle!" whispered the colored man
to Sam afterward.
Pages:
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92