He
sorter started when he heard me, for he hadn't seen me before. "Why,"
says he, "I 'm mad as the devil, Aunt 'Becca!" "What about?" says I;
"ain't its hair the right color? None of that nonsense, Jeff; there
ain't an honester woman in the Lost Townships than..."--"Than who?" says
he; "what the mischief are you about?" I began to see I was running the
wrong trail, and so says I, "Oh! nothing: I guess I was mistaken a
little, that's all. But what is it you 're mad about?"
"Why," says he, "I've been tugging ever since harvest, getting out wheat
and hauling it to the river to raise State Bank paper enough to pay my
tax this year and a little school debt I owe; and now, just as I 've got
it, here I open this infernal Extra Register, expecting to find it full
of 'Glorious Democratic Victories' and 'High Comb'd Cocks,' when, lo and
behold! I find a set of fellows, calling themselves officers of the
State, have forbidden the tax collectors, and school commissioners to
receive State paper at all; and so here it is dead on my hands. I don't
now believe all the plunder I've got will fetch ready cash enough to pay
my taxes and that school debt.
Pages:
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348