"Shall we meet, shall we meet,
Shall we meet beyond the River?"
The strain was repeated with a most pathetic quaver in the rendering,
and then big Captain Sartell broke down, with a helpless gulp in his
voice, and I, who believed myself of too superior and refined a nature
to be moved by such tawdry sentiment, was further dismayed to feel the
tears gathering fast in my own eyes.
After the meeting, on the school-house steps, the big Captain, as if to
atone for any unmanly exhibition of feeling into which he might have
been betrayed inside, took little Bachelor Lot up by the shoulders, and
gently and playfully held him suspended in mid-air, while he put to him
the following riddle:--
"I'll wager a quarter, on a good, squar' guess, Bachelder. Why is--why
air Aunt Sibby's remarks like this 'ere peninshaler, eh, Bachelder?"
"Because--ahem!--because they're always a runnin' to a p'int, eh?"
inquired the keen little bachelor.
"No, by thunder!" exclaimed the discomfited Captain, setting the
magician down promptly. "As near as I calk'late," he continued,
endeavoring to resume his former air of cool and reckless raillery; "as
near as I calk'late, Bachelder,--yes, sir, as near as I
calk'late,--it's--it's--by thunder! it's because they're both liable to
squalls in fa'r weather!"
Amazed, and almost frightened at the unexpected brilliancy of his evil
success, the Captain yet kept a rueful and furtive eye on the little
bachelor.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25