No More Learning

And all he'd left 'ould hardly serve to swear at. "

'By this time Obed had his wits thawed out,
And, looking at the other half in doubt,
Took off his fox-skin cap to scratch his head,
Donned it again, and drawled forth, "Mean he's dead? "
"Jesso; he's dead and t'other _d_ that follers
With folks that never love a thing but dollars. 540
He pulled up stakes last evening, fair and square,
And ever since there's been a row Down There.
The minute the old chap arrived, you see,
Comes the Boss-devil to him, and says he,
'What are you good at? Little enough, I fear;
We callilate to make folks useful here. '
'Well,' says old Bitters, 'I expect I can
Scale a fair load of wood with e'er a man. '
'Wood we don't deal in; but perhaps you'll suit,
Because we buy our brimstone by the foot: 550
Here, take this measurin'-rod, as smooth as sin,
And keep a reckonin' of what loads comes in.
You'll not want business, for we need a lot
To keep the Yankees that you send us hot;
At firin' up they're barely half as spry
As Spaniards or Italians, though they're dry;
At first we have to let the draught on stronger,
But, heat 'em through, they seem to hold it longer. '

'"Bitters he took the rod, and pretty soon
A teamster comes, whistling an ex-psalm tune. 560
A likelier chap you wouldn't ask to see,
No different, but his limp, from you or me"--
"No different, Perez! Don't your memory fail?
Why, where in thunder was his horns and tail? "
"They're only worn by some old-fashioned pokes;
They mostly aim at looking just like folks.
Sech things are scarce as queues and top-boots here;
'Twould spoil their usefulness to look too queer.
Ef you could always know 'em when they come,
They'd get no purchase on you: now be mum. 570
On come the teamster, smart as Davy Crockett,
Jinglin' the red-hot coppers in his pocket,
And clost behind, ('twas gold-dust, you'd ha' sworn,)
A load of sulphur yallower 'n seed-corn;
To see it wasted as it is Down There
Would make a Friction-Match Co. tear its hair!
'Hold on! ' says Bitters, 'stop right where you be;
You can't go in athout a pass from me. '
'All right,' says t'other, 'only step round smart;
I must be home by noon-time with the cart. ' 580
Bitters goes round it sharp-eyed as a rat,
Then with a scrap of paper on his hat
Pretends to cipher. 'By the public staff,
That load scarce rises twelve foot and a half. '
'There's fourteen foot and over,' says the driver,
'Worth twenty dollars, ef it's worth a stiver;
Good fourth-proof brimstone, that'll make 'em squirm,--
I leave it to the Headman of the Firm;
After we masure it, we always lay
Some on to allow for settlin' by the way. 590
Imp and full-grown, I've carted sulphur here,
And gi'n fair satisfaction, thirty year. '
With that they fell to quarrellin' so loud
That in five minutes they had drawed a crowd,
And afore long the Boss, who heard the row,
Comes elbowin' in with 'What's to pay here now? '
Both parties heard, the measurin'-rod he takes,
And of the load a careful survey makes.
'Sence I have bossed the business here,' says he,
'No fairer load was ever seen by me. ' 600
Then, turnin' to the Deacon, 'You mean cus.
None of your old Quompegan tricks with us!
They won't do here: we're plain old-fashioned folks,
And don't quite understand that kind o' jokes.