Volume I Part 19 (2/2)

An' den ve valk aroun' an' 'roun'

Som' horses for to see; Dere's pretty vomans, lots of dem, But, for de life of me, I can not see de trotter nag, Or vat's called t'oroughbred, I vonder if ve mak' mistake, Gat in wrong place instead.

But Charlotte is not disappoint', Her eyes dey s.h.i.+ne so bright, It's ven she sees dem vimmens folks, Dey dance vit moch delight; I den vos tak' a look myself On ladies vit fin' dra.s.s, Dere's nodding else in dat whol' place Dat is so interes'.

I say, ”Charlotte,” say I to her, ”Dat ladee in box seat-- Across de vay vos von beeg swell, Her beauty's hard to beat; De von dat's gat fon_ee_ eyegla.s.s Opon a leddle stek, I'm t'ink she is most' fin' loo_kin_'

Wen she bow an' spe'k.

”It's pretty dra.s.s dat she's got on, I lak' de polonaise, Vere bodice it is all meex op Vit jabot all de vays.

Dat's hang in front vit pleats all roun'-- It is von fin' tableau.”

An' den Charlotte she turn to me An' ask me how I know

So moch about de Beeg Horse Show, W'ich we are com' for see; An' den I op an' tol' her dere Dat I had com' to be Expert on informatione, Read papier, I fin' out Vat all is in de Horse's Show, An' vat's it all about.

I point to ladee in nex' box, She's feex op mighty vell, I vish I could haf' vords enough Vat she had on to tell; De firs' part it vas nodding moch, From cloth it vas quite free, Lak' fleur-de-lis at Easter tam', Mos' beautiful to see.

An' den dere is commence a line Of fluffy cream souffle, My vife it mak' her very diz', She's not a vord to say.

An' den com' yard of _crepe de chine_, Vit omelette stripe beneadt', All fill it op vit fine guimpe jew'ls An' concertina pleat.

Mon Dieu! an' who vould evere t'ink Dat Horse Show vas lak' dese!

A Horse Show dere vidout no horse, I t'ink dat's strange beez_nesse_.

But I suppose affer de man De dry-goods bill dey pay, Dere's nodding lef' to spen' on horse Ontil som' odder day.

I tell you every hour you leeve, You fin' out som't'ing new; An' now I haf' som' vords to tell, Som' good it might do you; It's mighty fonny, de advise I'm geeve to you, of course, But never go to Horses Show Expecting to see horse.

THE CHAMPION CHECKER-PLAYER OF AMERIKY

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

Of course as fur as Checker-playin's concerned, you can't jest adzackly claim 'at lots makes fortunes and lots gits bu'sted at it--but still, it's on'y simple jestice to acknowledge 'at there're absolute p'ints in the game 'at takes scientific principles to figger out, and a mighty level-headed feller to _dim_onstrate, don't you understand!

Checkers is a' _old_ enough game, ef age is any rickommendation; and it's a' evident fact, too, 'at ”the tooth of time,” as the feller says, which fer the last six thousand years has gained some reputation fer a-eatin' up things in giner'l, don't 'pear to 'a' gnawed much of a hole in Checkers--jedgin' from the checker-board of to-day and the ones 'at they're uccasionally shovellin' out at _Pom_p'y-_i_, er whatever its name is. Turned up a checker-board there not long ago, I wuz readin'

'bout, 'at still had the spots on--as plain and fresh as the modern white-pine board o' our'n, squared off with pencil-marks and pokeberry-juice. These is facts 'at history herself has dug out, and of course it ain't fer me ner you to turn our nose up at Checkers, whuther we ever tamper with the fool-game er not. Fur's that's concerned, I don't p'tend to be no checker-player _myse'f_,--but I know'd a feller onc't 'at _could_ play, and sorto' made a business of it; and _that_ man, in my opinion, was a geenyus! Name wuz Wesley Cotterl--John Wesley Cotterl--jest plain Wes, as us fellers round the Shoe-Shop ust to call him; ust to allus make the Shoe-Shop his headquarters-like; and, rain er s.h.i.+ne, wet er dry, you'd allus find _Wes_ on hands, ready to banter some feller fer a game, er jest a-settin' humped up there over the checker-board all alone, a-cipher'n' out some new move er 'nuther, and whistlin' low and solem' to hisse'f-like and a-payin' no attention to n.o.body.

And _I'll_ tell _you_, Wes Cotterl wuz no man's fool, as sly as you keep it! He wuz a deep thinker, Wes wuz; and ef he'd 'a' jest turned that mind o' his loose on _preachin'_, fer instunce, and the 'terpertation o'

the Bible, don't you know, Wes 'ud 'a' worked p'ints out o' there 'at no livin' expounderers ever got in gunshot of!

But Wes he didn't 'pear to be cut out fer nothin' much but jest Checker-playin'. Oh, of course, he _could_ knock round his own woodpile some, and garden a little, more er less; and the neighbers ust to find Wes purty handy 'bout trimmin' fruit-trees, you understand, and workin'

in among the worms and cattapillers in the vines and shrubbery, and the like. And handlin' bees!--They wuzn't no man under the heavens 'at knowed more 'bout handlin' bees'n Wes Cotterl!--”Settlin'” the blame'

things when they wuz a-swarmin'; and a-robbin' hives, and all sich fool-resks. W'y, I've saw Wes Cotterl, 'fore now, when a swarm of bees 'ud settle in a' orchard,--like they will sometimes, you know,--I've saw Wes Cotterl jest roll up his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves and bend down a' apple tree limb 'at wuz jest kivvered with the pesky things, and sc.r.a.pe 'em back into the hive with his naked hands, by the quart and gallon, and never git a scratch! You couldn't _hire_ a bee to sting Wes Cotterl! But _lazy_?--I think that man had railly ort to 'a' been a' Injun! He wuz the fust and on'y man 'at ever I laid eyes on 'at wuz too lazy to drap a checker-man to p'int out the right road fer a feller 'at ast him onc't the way to Burke's Mill; and Wes, 'ithout ever a-liftin' eye er finger, jest sorto' crooked out that mouth o' his'n in the direction the feller wanted, and says: ”_H-yonder!_” and went on with his whistlin'. But all this hain't Checkers, and that's what I started out to tell ye.

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