- end_line
- 4342
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:47:57.722Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 4237
- text
- "Then, you shall hear my story. Many a month I have longed to get hold
of the Happy Man, drill him, drop the powder, and leave him to explode
at his leisure.".
"What a demoniac unfortunate" exclaimed the herb-doctor retreating.
"Regular infernal machine!"
"Look ye," cried the other, stumping after him, and with his horny hand
catching him by a horn button, "my name is Thomas Fry. Until my----"
--"Any relation of Mrs. Fry?" interrupted the other. "I still correspond
with that excellent lady on the subject of prisons. Tell me, are you
anyway connected with _my_ Mrs. Fry?"
"Blister Mrs. Fry! What do them sentimental souls know of prisons or any
other black fact? I'll tell ye a story of prisons. Ha, ha!"
The herb-doctor shrank, and with reason, the laugh being strangely
startling.
"Positively, my friend," said he, "you must stop that; I can't stand
that; no more of that. I hope I have the milk of kindness, but your
thunder will soon turn it."
"Hold, I haven't come to the milk-turning part yet. My name is Thomas
Fry. Until my twenty-third year I went by the nickname of Happy
Tom--happy--ha, ha! They called me Happy Tom, d'ye see? because I was so
good-natured and laughing all the time, just as I am now--ha, ha!"
Upon this the herb-doctor would, perhaps, have run, but once more the
hyæna clawed him. Presently, sobering down, he continued:
"Well, I was born in New York, and there I lived a steady, hard-working
man, a cooper by trade. One evening I went to a political meeting in the
Park--for you must know, I was in those days a great patriot. As bad
luck would have it, there was trouble near, between a gentleman who had
been drinking wine, and a pavior who was sober. The pavior chewed
tobacco, and the gentleman said it was beastly in him, and pushed him,
wanting to have his place. The pavior chewed on and pushed back. Well,
the gentleman carried a sword-cane, and presently the pavior was
down--skewered."
"How was that?"
"Why you see the pavior undertook something above his strength."
"The other must have been a Samson then. 'Strong as a pavior,' is a
proverb."
"So it is, and the gentleman was in body a rather weakly man, but, for
all that, I say again, the pavior undertook something above his
strength."
"What are you talking about? He tried to maintain his rights, didn't
he?"
"Yes; but, for all that, I say again, he undertook something above his
strength."
"I don't understand you. But go on."
"Along with the gentleman, I, with other witnesses, was taken to the
Tombs. There was an examination, and, to appear at the trial, the
gentleman and witnesses all gave bail--I mean all but me."
"And why didn't you?"
"Couldn't get it."
"Steady, hard-working cooper like you; what was the reason you couldn't
get bail?"
"Steady, hard-working cooper hadn't no friends. Well, souse I went into
a wet cell, like a canal-boat splashing into the lock; locked up in
pickle, d'ye see? against the time of the trial."
"But what had you done?"
"Why, I hadn't got any friends, I tell ye. A worse crime than murder, as
ye'll see afore long."
"Murder? Did the wounded man die?"
"Died the third night."
"Then the gentleman's bail didn't help him. Imprisoned now, wasn't he?"
"Had too many friends. No, it was _I_ that was imprisoned.--But I was
going on: They let me walk about the corridor by day; but at night I
must into lock. There the wet and the damp struck into my bones. They
doctored me, but no use. When the trial came, I was boosted up and said
my say."
"And what was that?"
"My say was that I saw the steel go in, and saw it sticking in."
"And that hung the gentleman."
"Hung him with a gold chain! His friends called a meeting in the Park,
and presented him with a gold watch and chain upon his acquittal."
"Acquittal?"
"Didn't I say he had friends?"
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- Chunk 2