"
"No, you don't!" said the shoemaker's son; "don't put it on so thick. If
you want me to tell my yarn along with the rest of you, why, I'm ready,
but if you call it a speech, you scare me out of my shoes, just like the
man that tried to make a speech in the legislature, but couldn't get any
farther than 'Mr. Speaker, I am in favor of cartwheels and temperance.'
Or, like a boy I knew, who tried to declaim the speech beginning:
'Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears!' and who got so badly
confused on the first line that he said, 'I'd like to borrow your ears!'"
This raised a laugh at the expense of Harry Wilson, who had broken down
on that line, though he did not make it as bad as Jimmy represented it.
"G-g-go on with your story!" stammered the chairman, and Jackson
proceeded.
_JIMMY JACKSON'S STORY._
There lived in a country a long way off--it don't matter where--a poor
wood-chopper whose name was--let's see--well, we will call him Bertram.
It wasn't the fashion to have two names in those days, you know; people
couldn't afford it. He had a son, whose name was Rudolph, and a daughter,
Theresa. The boy was twelve and the girl was eleven years old. The
wood-chopper earned but a scanty subsistence--that means an awfully poor
living, I believe--and the children soon learned to help him.
Pages:
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146