- end_line
- 4799
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:47:57.722Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 4728
- text
- "That's what that Truman--ugh, ugh!--said I ought to take.
Yarb-medicine; you are that yarb-doctor, too?"
"The same. Suppose you try one of my boxes now. Trust me, from what I
know of Mr. Truman, he is not the gentleman to recommend, even in behalf
of a friend, anything of whose excellence he is not conscientiously
satisfied."
"Ugh!--how much?"
"Only two dollars a box."
"Two dollars? Why don't you say two millions? ugh, ugh! Two dollars,
that's two hundred cents; that's eight hundred farthings; that's two
thousand mills; and all for one little box of yarb-medicine. My head, my
head!--oh, I ought to have a guard_ee_an for; my head. Ugh, ugh, ugh,
ugh!"
"Well, if two dollars a box seems too much, take a dozen boxes at twenty
dollars; and that will be getting four boxes for nothing, and you need
use none but those four, the rest you can retail out at a premium, and
so cure your cough, and make money by it. Come, you had better do it.
Cash down. Can fill an order in a day or two. Here now," producing a
box; "pure herbs."
At that moment, seized with another spasm, the miser snatched each
interval to fix his half distrustful, half hopeful eye upon the
medicine, held alluringly up. "Sure--ugh! Sure it's all nat'ral? Nothing
but yarbs? If I only thought it was a purely nat'ral medicine now--all
yarbs--ugh, ugh!--oh this cough, this cough--ugh, ugh!--shatters my
whole body. Ugh, ugh, ugh!"
"For heaven's sake try my medicine, if but a single box. That it is pure
nature you may be confident, Refer you to Mr. Truman."
"Don't know his number--ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh! Oh this cough. He did speak
well of this medicine though; said solemnly it would cure me--ugh, ugh,
ugh, ugh!--take off a dollar and I'll have a box."
"Can't sir, can't."
"Say a dollar-and-half. Ugh!"
"Can't. Am pledged to the one-price system, only honorable one."
"Take off a shilling--ugh, ugh!"
"Can't."
"Ugh, ugh, ugh--I'll take it.--There."
Grudgingly he handed eight silver coins, but while still in his hand,
his cough took him and they were shaken upon the deck.
One by one, the herb-doctor picked them up, and, examining them, said:
"These are not quarters, these are pistareens; and clipped, and sweated,
at that."
"Oh don't be so miserly--ugh, ugh!--better a beast than a miser--ugh,
ugh!"
"Well, let it go. Anything rather than the idea of your not being cured
of such a cough. And I hope, for the credit of humanity, you have not
made it appear worse than it is, merely with a view to working upon the
weak point of my pity, and so getting my medicine the cheaper. Now,
mind, don't take it till night. Just before retiring is the time. There,
you can get along now, can't you? I would attend you further, but I land
presently, and must go hunt up my luggage."
- title
- Chunk 3