I dunno what to do with the boy at all, at all."
"But it is rather a good thing, or a series of good things, not to play
cards, nor smoke, nor tell lies," remarked Wilkinson. "Perhaps the baby
is too young to smoke or read Shakespeare."
"He's eighteen and a strapping big fellow at that, our baby Rufus. He
can do two men's work in a day all the week through, and go to meetin'
and Sunday school on Sundays; but he's far behind in general larnin' and
in spirit, not a bit like his father. Do I understand you object to
smoking, sir?"
"Not a bit," replied his companion, "but my friend Coristine smokes a
pipe, and, as smokers love congenial company, I had better get him to
join you, and relieve him of his load." So saying, Wilkinson retired to
the silent pair in the rear, took the old lady's bundle from the lawyer
and sent him forward to smoke with the ancient schoolmaster. The latter
waxed eloquent on the subject of tobackka, after the pipes were filled
and fairly set agoing.
"There was a fanatic of a praycher came to our meetin' one Sunday
morning last winter, and discoorsed on that which goeth out of a man.
Pages:
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167