Читать книгу Josh Billings on Ice, and Other Things - Billings Josh - Страница 7

Shortfellow.– Yure views are correkt; thare iz no telling what hosses will trot by looking at them. Lady Thorne and Dexter are no more bilt alike than the Black Crook and Flying Scud. Neither do i think that pedigree ever makes a hoss fast enny more than it makes a man smart. Hambletonian and sum ov the kings ov England hav both sired lunkheads. If a hoss iz made right, he can proceed fast, i don't kare who made him. Flying Dutchman lived and died, and left a two-mile heat on the books that haint bin duplikated yet, and about aul that iz known ov him iz that he waz got in a brickyard in Pensilvany. Tom Thum went the fust 100 miles in 10 hours that waz ever did, and he had no more pedigree than a prary dorg, or a Digger injun. Who ever heard ov Flory Temple having enny pedigree?

If she ever gits one, it will be like menny ov the epitaffs we read in the graveyards – courteous libels.

I hav seen French ponys go on the ice faster than you could telegraff, bilt like a pumpkin seed, and with a pedigree just about as pure as a dock rat's.

Still, if you or i should talk these things among the literati ov the hoss stabel, we should probably git our front teeth knocked out. If i waz going tew buy a trottin hoss i would't ask about his pedigree enny more than i would ask who made a mint julep. If the hoss didn't suit me, i am dredful sertain the pedigree wouldn't. Old Eclipse never waz beaten in hiz day, and his full brother wasn't fast enuff for a modern hearse hoss.

Bigfellow.– Trout fishing iz a good deal like painting picktures – you have got to be born how; you kant learn how. It don't require the genius ov a statesman tew know how tew ketch a trout; but the two best trout fishers I ever knu waz Daniel Webster and old Ishmael. Both were natiffs ov Nu England; one ov them everyboddy iz proud to remember, and the other waz a simple old nigger; but i think the old dark waz the best fisher ov the two.

He would walk up tew a hole in the brook, whare a big trout lay az careless and yet az still az a hen turkey, and stand thare till the fish mistook him for the stub ov a tree, then would drop his worm, or hiz grasshopper, or (if the seazon waz right) would danse hiz flie above the trout's head so literal that the fish would bite merely from the force ov habit, whether he waz hungry or not.

This old Afrikan alwus started out for trout just as a dorg duz for mischief, the other way from whare he waz going, and never cum back without a trophy. The best kind of a trout pole for brook-fishing grows along side ov the brook. They are black alder, and have the same kind ov a taper that a rat tarrier's tale duz. Twelve foot is long enuff for the pole, and the brook that don't raize them somewhare on its banks iz not a good trout stream. But thare aint room enuff in a letter for me tew talk trout. Go with me sumtime next May among the mountains, and i will show yu how tew win theze little spotted morsels from their wet and noisy homes. But – though I like company generally – tew be honest about it, trout fishing iz a good deal like sparking – one feller at a time iz enuff.

Littlefellow.– Yu tell me in your letter "that musik iz yure egstatick bliss; that yure soul iz sot tew musick, and feeds on its gorgous viands." I am glad tew hear yu say so, for now i know yu won't never du enny big mischief in this world. Ennyboddy who loves musick az much az yu say you do, don't want enny other kind ov oats. I am unfortunate in this direkshun. I don't kno one note from another, unless it iz a bank-note, and i never had enny ear for musick since i waz a boy. Once in a while, in them daze, the schoolmarm, in lifting me up off from the bench by the ears tew see how heavy i waz, would start the musick out of me. I never tended but one gorgous opera in my life, and it won't never be convenient for me tew tend another. A forrin woman sung sum ov the "gorgous viands" yu speak ov. She was very fat herself, and want very thoroughly drest about the neck and naber hood. She threw her head back like a sled runner, and yelled az tho she had a rat on her. I expekted every minnit tew see her arrested for breaking the piece. I suppose if i had the right kind ov taste for gorgous vittles, this kind ov musick would eat me good. I heard a milkmaid once sing, in a cow-yard, as she sot by the side ov a heifer just as the sun waz setting. It waz a love story song. Perhaps there was no gorge in it; but there waz sumthing in it that made me feel sorry aul over. This iz aul i kno about musick. I could listen aul day tew that kind ov soft sadness she sung about, and feel lonesum and lonesummer aul the time.