- end_line
- 5304
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:47:57.722Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 5247
- text
- lived in the East, and know 'em. Swindling concerns kept by low-born
cynics, under a fawning exterior wreaking their cynic malice upon
mankind. You are a fair specimen of 'em."
"Oh dear, dear, dear!"
"Dear? Yes, a thrice dear purchase one of your boys would be to me. A
rot on your boys!"
"But, respected sir, if you will not have boys, might we not, in our
small way, accommodate you with a man?"
"Accommodate? Pray, no doubt you could accommodate me with a
bosom-friend too, couldn't you? Accommodate! Obliging word accommodate:
there's accommodation notes now, where one accommodates another with a
loan, and if he don't pay it pretty quickly, accommodates him, with a
chain to his foot. Accommodate! God forbid that I should ever be
accommodated. No, no. Look you, as I told that cousin-german of yours,
the herb-doctor, I'm now on the road to get me made some sort of machine
to do my work. Machines for me. My cider-mill--does that ever steal my
cider? My mowing-machine--does that ever lay a-bed mornings? My
corn-husker--does that ever give me insolence? No: cider-mill,
mowing-machine, corn-husker--all faithfully attend to their business.
Disinterested, too; no board, no wages; yet doing good all their lives
long; shining examples that virtue is its own reward--the only practical
Christians I know."
"Oh dear, dear, dear, dear!"
"Yes, sir:--boys? Start my soul-bolts, what a difference, in a moral
point of view, between a corn-husker and a boy! Sir, a corn-husker, for
its patient continuance in well-doing, might not unfitly go to heaven.
Do you suppose a boy will?"
"A corn-husker in heaven! (turning up the whites of his eyes). Respected
sir, this way of talking as if heaven were a kind of Washington
patent-office museum--oh, oh, oh!--as if mere machine-work and
puppet-work went to heaven--oh, oh, oh! Things incapable of free agency,
to receive the eternal reward of well-doing--oh, oh, oh!"
"You Praise-God-Barebones you, what are you groaning about? Did I say
anything of that sort? Seems to me, though you talk so good, you are
mighty quick at a hint the other way, or else you want to pick a polemic
quarrel with me."
"It may be so or not, respected sir," was now the demure reply; "but if
it be, it is only because as a soldier out of honor is quick in taking
affront, so a Christian out of religion is quick, sometimes perhaps a
little too much so, in spying heresy."
"Well," after an astonished pause, "for an unaccountable pair, you and
the herb-doctor ought to yoke together."
So saying, the bachelor was eying him rather sharply, when he with the
brass plate recalled him to the discussion by a hint, not unflattering,
that he (the man with the brass plate) was all anxiety to hear him
further on the subject of servants.
- title
- Chunk 2