And I met a feller, and says I,--
"What place is this?"
"Why, this," says he, "is Huckler's Row."
"What!" says I, "are these the stores where the traders in Huckler's Row
keep?"
And says he, "Yes."
"Well, then," says I to myself, "I have a pesky good mind to go in and
have a try with one of these chaps, and see if they can twist my
eye-teeth out. If they can get the best end of a bargain out of me, they
can do what there ain't a man in our place can do; and I should just
like to know what sort of stuff these 'ere Portland chaps are made of."
So I goes into the best-looking store among 'em. And I see some biscuit
on the shelf, and says I,--
"Mister, how much do you ax apiece for them 'ere biscuits?"
"A cent apiece," says he.
"Well," says I, "I shan't give you that, but, if you've a mind to, I'll
give you two cents for three of them, for I begin to feel a little as
though I would like to take a bite."
"Well," says he, "I wouldn't sell 'em to anybody else so, but, seeing
it's you, I don't care if you take 'em."
I knew he lied, for he never seen me before in his life. Well, he handed
down the biscuits, and I took 'em and walked round the store awhile, to
see what else he had to sell. At last says I,--
"Mister, have you got any good cider?"
Says he, "Yes, as good as ever ye see.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26