- end_line
- 10248
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:47:57.726Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 10168
- text
- "That, indeed! Yes, and it would help _your_ memory, too, wouldn't it,
barber? Yours, on your side, being a little weak, too, I dare say. Ah,
barber! how ingenious we human beings are; and how kindly we reciprocate
each other's little delicacies, don't we? What better proof, now, that
we are kind, considerate fellows, with responsive fellow-feelings--eh,
barber? But to business. Let me see. What's your name, barber?"
"William Cream, sir."
Pondering a moment, he began to write; and, after some corrections,
leaned back, and read aloud the following:
"AGREEMENT
Between
FRANK GOODMAN, Philanthropist, and Citizen of the World,
and
WILLIAM CREAM, Barber of the Mississippi steamer, Fidèle.
"The first hereby agrees to make good to the last any loss that may
come from his trusting mankind, in the way of his vocation, for the
residue of the present trip; PROVIDED that William Cream keep out
of sight, for the given term, his notification of NO TRUST, and by
no other mode convey any, the least hint or intimation, tending to
discourage men from soliciting trust from him, in the way of his
vocation, for the time above specified; but, on the contrary, he
do, by all proper and reasonable words, gestures, manners, and
looks, evince a perfect confidence in all men, especially
strangers; otherwise, this agreement to be void.
"Done, in good faith, this 1st day of April 18--, at a quarter to
twelve o'clock, P. M., in the shop of said William Cream, on board
the said boat, Fidèle."
"There, barber; will that do?"
"That will do," said the barber, "only now put down your name."
Both signatures being affixed, the question was started by the barber,
who should have custody of the instrument; which point, however, he
settled for himself, by proposing that both should go together to the
captain, and give the document into his hands--the barber hinting that
this would be a safe proceeding, because the captain was necessarily a
party disinterested, and, what was more, could not, from the nature of
the present case, make anything by a breach of trust. All of which was
listened to with some surprise and concern.
"Why, barber," said the cosmopolitan, "this don't show the right spirit;
for me, I have confidence in the captain purely because he is a man; but
he shall have nothing to do with our affair; for if you have no
confidence in me, barber, I have in you. There, keep the paper
yourself," handing it magnanimously.
"Very good," said the barber, "and now nothing remains but for me to
receive the cash."
Though the mention of that word, or any of its singularly numerous
equivalents, in serious neighborhood to a requisition upon one's purse,
is attended with a more or less noteworthy effect upon the human
countenance, producing in many an abrupt fall of it--in others, a
writhing and screwing up of the features to a point not undistressing to
behold, in some, attended with a blank pallor and fatal
consternation--yet no trace of any of these symptoms was visible upon
the countenance of the cosmopolitan, notwithstanding nothing could be
more sudden and unexpected than the barber's demand.
"You speak of cash, barber; pray in what connection?"
"In a nearer one, sir," answered the barber, less blandly, "than I
thought the man with the sweet voice stood, who wanted me to trust him
once for a shave, on the score of being a sort of thirteenth cousin."
"Indeed, and what did you say to him?"
"I said, 'Thank you, sir, but I don't see the connection,'"
"How could you so unsweetly answer one with a sweet voice?"
"Because, I recalled what the son of Sirach says in the True Book: 'An
enemy speaketh sweetly with his lips;' and so I did what the son of
Sirach advises in such cases: 'I believed not his many words.'"
- title
- Chunk 4