Explanatory Notes
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Apparatus Notes
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Chapter XVII.
[begin page 132]
who’s there?
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Chapter XVII.emendation

In about half a minute somebody spoke out of a window, without putting his head out, and says:

“Be done, boys! Who’s there?”

I says:

“It’s me.”

Who’s me?emendation

“George Jackson, sir.”

“What do you want?”

“I don’talteration in the MS want nothing, sir. I only want to go along by, but the dogs won’thistorical collation let me.”

“What are you prowling around here this time of nighthistorical collation for—hey?”

“I warn’t prowling around, sir; I fell overboardhistorical collation off of the steamboathistorical collation.”

Ohistorical collation, you did, did you? Strike a light there, somebodyemendation. What did you say your name was?”

“George Jackson, sir. I’m only a boy.”

“Look here; if you’re telling the truth, you needn’t be afraid—nobody’llhistorical collation hurt you. But don’t try to budge; stand right where you are. Rouseemendation out Bob and Tom, some of you,alteration in the MS and fetch the guns. George Jackson, is there anybody with you?”

“No, sir,historical collation nobody.”

I heard the peopleemendation stirring around in the house,historical collation now, and seeemendation a light. The man sung out:

“Snatch that light away, Betsy,alteration in the MS you old fool—ain’thistorical collation you got any sense? Put it on the floor behind the front door. Bob, if you and Tom are ready, take your places.”

“All ready.”

[begin page 133] “Now, George Jackson, do you know the Shepherdsons?”alteration in the MS

“No, sir—I never heard of them.”

“Well, that may be so, and it mayn’t. Now,alteration in the MS all ready. Step forward, George Jackson. And mind, don’t you hurry—come mighty slow. If there’s anybody with you, let him keep back—historical collationif he shows himself he’ll be shot. Come along, now. Come slow; push the door open,historical collation yourself—just enough to squeeze in, d’youhistorical collation hear?”

I didn’t hurry. Iemendation couldn’t,historical collation if I’d aemendation wanted to. I took one slow step at a time, and there warn’t a sound, only I thought I could hear my heart. The dogs wereemendation as still as the humans, but they followed a little behind me. When I got to the three log door-stepshistorical collation I heard them unlocking and unbarring and unbolting. I put my hand on the door and pushed it a little and a little more, till somebody said, “There, that’s enough—put your head in.” I done it, but I judged they would take it off.

The candle was on the floor, and there they all was, looking at me andhistorical collation me at them, for about a quarter of a minute. Three big men,historical collation with guns pointed at me, which made me wincehistorical collation I tell you;alteration in the MS the oldesthistorical collation gray and about sixty, the other two thirty or more—all of them fine and handsome—and the sweetest old gray-headedemendation lady, and back of her two young womenhistorical collation which I couldn’t see right well. The old gentleman says:

“There—I reckon it’s all right. Come in.”

As soon as I was in, the old gentleman heemendation locked the door and barred it and bolted it, and told the young men to come inemendation with their guns, and they all went in a big parloralteration in the MS that had a new rag carpet on the floorhistorical collation and got together in a corner that was out of range of the front windows—there warn’t noneemendation on the side. They held the candlehistorical collation and took a good look at mehistorical collation and all said, “Why, he emendation ain’thistorical collation a Shepherdson—no, there ain’thistorical collation any Shepherdson about him.” Then the oldalteration in the MS man said he hoped I wouldn’t mind being searched for armshistorical collation because he didn’t mean no harm by it—it was only to make sure. So he didn’t pry into my pockets, but only felt outside with his handshistorical collation and said it was all right. He told me to make myself easy and at home, and tell all about myself,historical collation but the old lady says:

Whyhistorical collation bless you, Saul, the poor thing’s as wet as he can be; and don’t you reckon it may beemendation he’s hungry?”

“True for you, Rachel—I forgot.”

[begin page 134] So the old lady says:

Betsy,historical collationalteration in the MS (this was a nigger woman,)historical collation “youalteration in the MS fly around and get him something to eat, as quick as you can, poor thing,historical collation and one of you girls go and wake up Buck and tell him—Oemendation, here he is himself. Buckemendation, take this little stranger and get the wet clothes off from himemendation and dress him up in some of yours that’s dry.”

buck.

Buck looked about as old as me—thirteen or fourteenemendation or along thereexplanatory note, though he was a littlealteration in the MS bigger than me. He hadn’t on anything but a shirt, and he was very frowsy-headed. He come in gapinghistorical collation andemendation digging one fist into his eyes, and he was dragging a gun along with the other one. Healteration in the MS says:

Ain’thistorical collation they no Shepherdsonsalteration in the MS around?”

They said, no, ’twas a false alarm.

“Well,” he says, “if they’d a benhistorical collation somehistorical collation Ialteration in the MS reckon I’d a gothistorical collation one.”

They all laughed, and Bob says:

“Why, Buck, they might have scalped us all, you’ve been so slow inemendation coming.”

“Well, nobody come after me, and it ain’thistorical collation right. I’m always kep’ down; I don’t get no show.”

“Never mind, Buck, my boy,” says the old man, “you’ll have show enough, all in good time,historical collation don’t you fret about that. Go ’long with you,historical collation nowalteration in the MS, and do as your mother told you.”

Whenemendation we got up stairshistorical collation to his room,historical collation he got me a coarse shirt and a roundaboutemendation alteration in the MS and pants of his, and I put them on. While I was at it he asked me what my name was, but before I couldalteration in the MS tell himhistorical collation he started [begin page 135] to telling me about a blue jay and a young rabbit he had catchedalteration in the MS in the woods day before yesterday, and he asked me where Moses was when the candle went outexplanatory note. I said I didn’t know; I hadn’t heard about it before, no wayhistorical collation.

“Well, guess,” he says.

How’memendation I going to guess,” says I, “when I never heard tell about it before?”

“But you can guess, can’t you? It’s just as easy.”

Which candle?” I says.

“Why, anyemendation candle,” he says.

“I don’t know where he was,” says I,historical collation “where was heemendation?”

Whyhistorical collation he was in the dark! That’s where he was!”

Wellhistorical collation if you knowed where he was, what did you ask meemendation for?”

“Why, blame it, it’s a riddle, don’t you see? Say—emendationhow long areemendation you going to stay here? You got to stay always. We can just have booming times—they don’t have no school now. Do you own a dog? I’ve got a dog—and he’ll go in the river and bring out chips that you throw in. Do you like to comb up,historical collation Sundays, and all that kind of foolishness? You bet I don’t, but ma shealteration in the MS makes me. Confoundemendation these oleemendation britches,historical collation I reckon I’d better put ’em on, but I’d rutheremendation not, it’s so warm. Arealteration in the MS you all ready? All right—come along, old hoss.”

Cold corn-poneemendation, cold corn beefhistorical collation, butter and buttermilkhistorical collation—that is what they had for me down there, and there ain’thistorical collation nothingemendation better that ever I’ve come across yet. Buck and his ma and all of them smoked cob pipes, except the nigger woman, which was gone, and the two young women. They all smoked and talked, and I eat and talked. The young women had quilts around themhistorical collation and their hair down their backs. They allalteration in the MS asked me questions, and I told them how pap and me and all the family was living on a little farm down at the bottom of Arkansaw, and my sister Mary Ann run off and got married and never was heard of noalteration in the MS more, and Bill went to hunt them and he warn’t heard of no more, and Tom and Mort died, and by and by mam died,textual note historical collation and then there warn’t nobody but just me and pap left,alteration in the MS and he was just trimmed down to nothing,historical collation on account of his troubles; so when he died I took what there was left, because the farm didn’t belong to us, and started up the riverhistorical collation deck passagehistorical collation and fell overboardhistorical collation and that was how I come to be here. So they said I could have a home there as long as I wanted it. Then it was most daylight, and everybodyalteration in the MS went to bed, and I went to bed with Buck, [begin page 136] and when I waked up,historical collation in the morning,alteration in the MS drat it allhistorical collation I had forgot what my name was. So I laid there about an hour trying to think, and when Buck waked up, I says:

“Can you spell, Buck?”

“Yes,” he says.

“I bet you can’t spell my name,alteration in the MS” says I.

“I bet you what you dare I can,” says he.

“All right,” says I,historical collation “goalteration in the MS ahead.”alteration in the MS

G-o-r-g-eemendation alteration in the MS J-a-x-o-nalteration in the MSthere,historical collation now,” he says.

“Well,” says I, “youalteration in the MS done it, but I didn’t think you could. It ain’thistorical collation no slouch of a name to spell—right off without studying.”

I set it down, private, because somebody might want me to spell it,historical collation next, and so I wanted to be handy with it and rattle it off like I was used to it.

It was a mighty nice family, and a mighty nice house, too. I hadn’t seen no house out in the country before that was so nice and had so much styleexplanatory note. It didn’t have an iron latch onalteration in the MS the front door, nor a wooden one with a buckskinemendation string, but a brass knob to turn, the same as houses in a town. There warn’t no bed in the parlor, not a sign of a bed; but heaps of parlorsalteration in the MS in towns has beds in them. There was a big fire placehistorical collation that was bricked on the bottom, and the bricks was kept clean and red by pouringalteration in the MS water on them and scrubbing them with another brick; sometimes they washed them over with red water-paint that they callalteration in the MS Spanish brownhistorical collation, same as they do in town. They had big brass dog-irons that could hold up a saw-log. There was a clock on the middle of the mantel piecehistorical collation with a picture of a town painted on the bottom half of the glass front, and a round place in the middle of it for the sun, and you could see the pendulum swing behind it. It was beautiful to hear that clock tick; and sometimes when one of these pedlershistorical collation had been along and scoured her up and got her in good shapehistorical collation she would start inalteration in the MS and strike a hundred and fifty before she got tuckered outemendation explanatory note. They wouldn’t took any money for her.

Well, there was a big outlandish parrot on each side of the clock, made out of something like chalk,alteration in the MS and painted up gaudy. By one of the parrots was a cat made of crockeryhistorical collation and a crockery dog by the other;alteration in the MS and when you pressed down on them they squeakedhistorical collation but didn’t open their mouths nor look different nor interestedemendation. They [begin page 137] squeaked through underneathemendation. There was a couple of big wild-turkey-wingalteration in the MS fans spread out behind thoseemendation things. On a table in the middle of the room was a kindalteration in the MS of a lovely crockery basket that had apples and oranges and peaches and grapes piled up in it which was much redderalteration in the MS and yellower and prettier than real ones isemendation, but they warn’t real,historical collation because you could see where pieces had got chipped off and showed the white chalk or whatever it was,historical collation underneathexplanatory note.

This table had a cover made outemendation of beautiful oil clothhistorical collation, with a red and blue spread-eaglealteration in the MS painted on it, and a painted border all around. It come all the way from Philadelphia, they said. There was some books,historical collation too, piled up perfectly exact, on each corner of the table. One was a big family Bible, full of pictures. One was “Pilgrim’s Progress,”emendation about a man that left his family,historical collation it didn’t say whyexplanatory note. I read considerable in it,historical collation now and then. The statements was interesting, but tough.emendation Anotheremendation was “Friendship’s Offering,”emendation full of beautiful stuff and poetry; but I didn’t read the poetryexplanatory note. Another was Henry Clay’s Speechesexplanatory note, and another was Dr. Gunn’s Family Medicine, which told you all about what to do if a body was sick or deademendation explanatory note. There was a hymn bookhistorical collation, and a lot of other books. And thereemendation was nice split-bottom chairs, and perfectly sound, too—not bagged down in the middle and bustedemendation, like an old basket.

They had pictures hung on the walls—mainly Washingtons,historical collation and Lafayettes, and battles, and Highland Marysexplanatory note, and one called “Signing the Declaration.”explanatory note There was some that they called crayons, which one of the daughters which was dead made her own self when she was only fifteen years old. They was different from any pictures I ever see before;historical collation blacker, mostlyemendation, than is commonexplanatory note. One was a woman in a slim black dress, belted small under the arm-pitsemendation, with bulges like a cabbage in the middle of the sleeves, and a large black scoop-shovel bonnet with a black veil, and white slim ancleshistorical collation crossed about with black tape, and very wee black slippers, like a chisel,emendation and she was leaning pensive on a tombstone on her right elbow, under a weeping willow, and her other hand hanging down her side holding a white handkerchiefemendation and a reticule,historical collation andalteration in the MS underneath the picture it said “Shall I Never See Thee More Alasemendation.”explanatory note Another one was a young lady with her hair all combed up straight to the top of her headhistorical collation and knotted there in front of a comb like a chair-back, and she was crying into a handkerchiefhistorical collation and had a dead [begin page 138] bird layingalteration in the MS on its back in her other hand with its heels up, and underneath the picture it said “I Shall Never Hear Thy Sweet Chirrup More Alasemendation.” There was one where a young lady was at a window,historical collation looking up at the moon, and tears running down her cheeksexplanatory note; and she had an open letter in one handhistorical collation with blackalteration in the MS sealing-wax showing on one edge of it, and she was mashingemendation a locket with a chain to it against her mouth,historical collation and underneath the picture it said “And Art Thou Gone Yes Thou Art Gone Alasemendation.” These was all nice pictures, I reckon, but I didn’t somehow seem to take to them, because if ever I was down a little, they always give me the fan-tods. Everybodyalteration in the MS was sorry she died, becausealteration in the MS she had laid out a lot more of these pictures to do, and a body could see by what she had done what they had lost. But I reckoned, thatemendation with her disposition, she was having a better time in the graveyardemendation. She was at work on what they said was her greatest picture when she took sick, and every day and every night it was her prayer to be allowed to live till she got it done, but she never got the chance. It was a picture of a young woman in a long white gown, standing on the rail of a bridge allalteration in the MS ready to jump offexplanatory note, with her hair all down her back, and looking up toemendation the moon, with the tears running down her face, and she had two arms folded across her breast, and two arms stretched out in front, and two more reaching up towards the moon—and the idea was,historical collation to see which pair would look best and then scratch out all the other arms; buthistorical collation as I was saying, she died before she got her mind made [begin page 139] up, and now they kept this picture over the head of the bed in her room, and every time her birthday come they hung flowers on it. Other times it was hid with a little curtain. The young woman in the picture had a kind of aalteration in the MS nice sweet face, but there was so many arms it made her look too spidery, seemed to meemendation.

it made her look too spidery.”emendation

This young girl kept a scrap-book when she was alive, and used to paste obituaries and accidents,historical collation and cases of patient sufferingalteration in the MS in it out of the Presbyterian Observer historical collation explanatory note and write poetry after them out of her own head. It was very good poetry. This is what she wrote about a boy by the name of Stephen Dowling Bots that fell down a well and was drownded:

Ode to Stephen Dowling Bots, Dec’d explanatory note.alteration in the MS emendation

And did young Stephen sicken,
And did young Stephen die?
And did the sad hearts thicken,
And did the mourners cry?

No; such was not the fate of
Young Stephen Dowling Bots;
Though sad hearts round him thickened,alteration in the MS
’Twas not from sickness’alteration in the MS emendation shots.

No whooping-cough did rack his frame,
Nor measles drear,emendation with spots;
Not these impaired the sacred name
Of Stephen Dowling Bots.

Despisèdhistorical collation love struck not with woe
That headalteration in the MS of curly knots,
Nor stomach troubles laid him low,emendation
Young Stephen Dowling Bots.

O no.emendation Then list with tearful eye,
Whilst I his fate do tell.
His soul did from this cold world fly,
By fallingalteration in the MS down a well.

They got him out and emptied him;
Alas it was too late;
His spirit was gone for to sport aloft
In the realms of the good and great.
emendation historical collation

they got him out and emptied him.

[begin page 140] If Emmeline Grangerfordexplanatory note could make poetry like that before she was fourteen, there ain’thistorical collation noemendation telling what she could aemendation done by and byhistorical collation. Buck said she could rattle off poetry like nothing. She didn’t ever have to stopemendation to think. He said she would slap down a line, and if she couldn’t find anything to rhyme with it she would just scratch it out and slap down another one, and go ahead. She warn’t particular,historical collation she could write about anything you choose to give her to write about, just so it was sadfulemendation. Every time a man died, or a woman died, or a child died, she would be on hand with her “Tributehistorical collation” before he was cold. She called them Tributeshistorical collation. The neighbors said it was the doctor first, then Emmeline, then the undertaker—the undertakerhistorical collation never got in ahead of Emmeline but once, and then she hung fire on a rhyme for the dead person’s name, which was Whistler. She warn’t ever the same,historical collation after that; she never complained, but she kind of pined away and did not live long. Poor thing,historical collation many’s the time I made [begin page 141] myself go up to the little room that used to be hershistorical collation and get out her poor old scrap bookhistorical collation and read in it when her pictures had been aggravating me and I had soured on heremendation a little. I liked allalteration in the MS that family, dead ones and all, and warn’temendation going to let anything come between us. Poor Emmeline made poetry about all the dead people when she was alive, and it didn’t seem right that there warn’t nobodyemendation to make some about her, now she was gone; so I tried to sweat out a verse or two myselfhistorical collation but I couldn’t seem to make it go, somehow. They kept Emmeline’s room trim and nice,historical collation and all the things fixed in it just the way she likedexplanatory note to have them when she was alive, and nobody ever slept there. The old lady took care of the room herself, though there was plenty of niggers, and she sewed there a good deal and read her Bible there, mostly.

Well, as I was saying about the parlor, there was beautiful curtains on the windows,historical collation white, with pictures painted on them, of castles with vines all down the walls, and cattle coming down to drink. There was a little old piano, too, that had tin pans in itexplanatory note, I reckon, and nothing was ever so lovelyemendation as to hear the young ladies singhistorical collation “The Last Link is Broken”emendation explanatory note and play “The Battle of Prague”emendation explanatory note on it. The walls of all the rooms was plasteredexplanatory note, and most had carpets on the floors, and the whole househistorical collation was whitewashed on the outside.

It was a double house and the big open place betwixt them was roofed and floored, and sometimes the table was set there in the middle of the dayhistorical collation and it was a cool, comfortable place. Nothing couldn’t be better. And warn’t the cooking goodhistorical collation and just bushels of it,historical collation too!emendation

the house.

Historical Collation Chapter XVII.
  won’t (MS1a A)  ●  wont (Cent) 
  night (MS1a Cent)  ●  night, (A) 
  overboard (MS1a A)  ●  over- | board (Cent) 
  steamboat (MS1a A)  ●  steam-boat (Cent) 
  O (MS1a)  ●  Oh (A Cent) 
  nobody’ll (MS1a Cent)  ●  nobody ’ll (A) 
  sir, (MS1a A)  ●  sir; (Cent) 
  house, (MS1a A)  ●  house  (Cent) 
  ain’t (MS1a A)  ●  aint (Cent) 
  back— (MS1a A)  ●  back; (Cent) 
  open, (MS1a A)  ●  open  (Cent) 
  d’you (MS1a Cent)  ●  d’ you (A) 
  couldn’t, (MS1a)  ●  couldn’t (A Cent) 
  door-steps (MS1a)  ●  door-steps, (A Cent) 
  me and (MS1a)  ●  me, and (A Cent) 
  men, (MS1a)  ●  men  (A Cent) 
  wince (MS1a)  ●  wince, (A Cent) 
  oldest (MS1a)  ●  oldest, (A Cent) 
  women (MS1a A)  ●  women, (Cent) 
  floor (MS1a)  ●  floor, (A Cent) 
  candle (MS1a)  ●  candle, (A Cent) 
  me (MS1a)  ●  me, (A Cent) 
  ain’t (MS1a A)  ●  aint (Cent) 
  ain’t (MS1a A)  ●  aint (Cent) 
  arms (MS1a)  ●  arms, (A Cent) 
  hands (MS1a)  ●  hands, (A)  hand, (Cent) 
  myself, (MS1a)  ●  myself; (A Cent) 
  Why (MS1a A)  ●  Why, (Cent) 
  Betsy, (MS1a)  ●  Betsy  (A Cent) 
  woman,) (MS1a)  ●  woman), (A Cent) 
  thing, (MS1a)  ●  thing; (A Cent) 
  gaping (MS1a A)  ●  gaping, (Cent) 
  Ain’t (MS1a A)  ●  Aint (Cent) 
  a ben (MS1a A)  ●  ’a’ be’n (Cent) 
  some (MS1a)  ●  some, (A Cent) 
  a got (MS1a A)  ●  ’a’ got (Cent) 
  ain’t (MS1a A)  ●  aint (Cent) 
  time, (MS1a A)  ●  time; (Cent) 
  you, (MS1a)  ●  you  (A Cent) 
  up stairs (MS1a A)  ●  upstairs (Cent) 
  room, (MS1a A)  ●  room  (Cent) 
  him (MS1a Cent)  ●  him, (A) 
  no way (MS1a A)  ●  noway (Cent) 
  I, (MS1a)  ●  I; (A Cent) 
  Why (MS1a A)  ●  Why, (Cent) 
  Well (MS1a)  ●  Well, (A Cent) 
  up, (MS1a A)  ●  up  (Cent) 
  britches, (MS1a A)  ●  britches! (Cent) 
  corn beef (MS1a)  ●  corn-beef (A Cent) 
  buttermilk (MS1a)  ●  butter-milk (A Cent) 
  ain’t (MS1a A)  ●  aint (Cent) 
  them (MS1a)  ●  them, (A Cent) 
  and by and by mam died, (MS1a)  ●  not in  (A Cent) 
  nothing, (MS1a A)  ●  nothing  (Cent) 
  river (MS1a)  ●  river, (A Cent) 
  passage (MS1a)  ●  passage, (A Cent) 
  overboard (MS1a)  ●  overboard; (A Cent) 
  up, (MS1a)  ●  up  (A Cent) 
  all (MS1a)  ●  all, (A Cent) 
  I, (MS1a A)  ●  I; (Cent) 
  there, (MS1a)  ●  there  (A Cent) 
  ain’t (MS1a A)  ●  aint (Cent) 
  it, (MS1a A)  ●  it  (Cent) 
  fire place (MS1a)  ●  fireplace (A)  fire-place (Cent) 
  Spanish brown (MS1a)  ●  Spanish-brown (A Cent) 
  mantel piece (MS1a)  ●  mantel-piece, (A Cent) 
  pedlers (MS1a)  ●  peddlers (A Cent) 
  shape (MS1a)  ●  shape, (A Cent) 
  of crockery (MS1a)  ●  of crockery, (A Cent) 
  squeaked (MS1a)  ●  squeaked, (A Cent) 
  real, (MS1a Cent)  ●  real  (A) 
  was, (MS1a A)  ●  was  (Cent) 
  oil cloth (MS1a)  ●  oil-cloth (A Cent) 
  books, (MS1a)  ●  books  (A Cent) 
  family, (MS1a)  ●  family  (A Cent) 
  it, (MS1a)  ●  it  (A Cent) 
  hymn book (MS1a)  ●  Hymn Book (A Cent) 
  Washingtons, (MS1a)  ●  Washingtons  (A Cent) 
  before; (MS1a A)  ●  before— (Cent) 
  ancles (MS1a)  ●  ankles (A Cent) 
  reticule, (MS1a A)  ●  reticule; (Cent) 
  head (MS1a)  ●  head, (A Cent) 
  handkerchief (MS1a A)  ●  handkerchief, (Cent) 
  window, (MS1a)  ●  window  (A Cent) 
  hand (MS1a A)  ●  hand, (Cent) 
  mouth, (MS1a A)  ●  mouth; (Cent) 
  was, (MS1a A)  ●  was  (Cent) 
  but (MS1a)  ●  but, (A Cent) 
  accidents, (MS1a)  ●  accidents  (A Cent) 
  Presbyterian Observer  (MS1a)  ●  Presbyterian Observer, (A)  “Presbyterian Observer,” (Cent) 
  Despisèd (MS1a)  ●  Despised (A) 
  This . . . great. (MS1a A)  ●  not in  (Cent) 
  ain’t (MS1a A)  ●  aint (Cent) 
  by and by (MS1a Cent)  ●  by-and-by (A) 
  particular, (MS1a A)  ●  particular; (Cent) 
  Tribute (MS1a)  ●  tribute (A Cent) 
  Tributes (MS1a)  ●  tributes (A Cent) 
  undertaker—the undertaker (MS1a)  ●  undertaker—the under- | taker (A)  undertaker. The undertaker (Cent) 
  same, (MS1a A)  ●  same  (Cent) 
  thing, (MS1a A)  ●  thing! (Cent) 
  hers (MS1a A)  ●  hers, (Cent) 
  scrap book (MS1a)  ●  scrap- | book (A)  scrap-book (Cent) 
  myself (MS1a)  ●  myself, (A Cent) 
  nice, (MS1a Cent)  ●  nice  (A) 
  windows, (MS1a)  ●  windows: (A Cent) 
  sing (MS1a Cent)  ●  sing, (A) 
  house (MS1a)  ●  house, (A Cent) 
  day (MS1a)  ●  day, (A Cent) 
  good (MS1a)  ●  good, (A Cent) 
  it, (MS1a Cent)  ●  it  (A) 
Editorial Emendations Chapter XVII.
  Chapter XVII. (A)  ●  not in (MS1a Cent) 
  Who’s me? (A Cent)  ●  Who is me?  (MS1a) 
  somebody (A Cent)  ●  old woman (MS1a) 
  Rouse (A Cent)  ●  Roust (MS1a) 
  the people (A Cent)  ●  people (MS1a) 
  see (A Cent)  ●  saw (MS1a) 
  hurry. I (C)  ●  hurry.— |  I (MS1a)  hurry, I (A)  hurry; I (Cent) 
  I’d a (A)  ●  I had (MS1a)  I’d ’a’ (Cent) 
  were (A Cent)  ●  was (MS1a) 
  gray-headed (A Cent)  ●  gray- | headed (MS1a) 
  he (A Cent)  ●  not in  (MS1a) 
  in (A Cent)  ●  not in  (MS1a) 
  none (A Cent)  ●  any (MS1a) 
  Why, he  (Cent)  ●  Why, he (MS1a)  Why he  (A) 
  it may be (A Cent)  ●  maybe (MS1a) 
  him—O (C)  ●  him—O (MS1a)  him—Oh (A Cent) 
  himself. Buck (A Cent)  ●  himself.— |  Buck (MS1a) 
  from him (A)  ●  of him (MS1a)  from him, (Cent) 
  or fourteen (A Cent)  ●  not in  (MS1a) 
  and (A Cent)  ●  and and (MS1a) 
  slow in (A Cent)  ●  long (MS1a) 
  you.” [¶] When (A Cent)  ●  you.”  ||  CHAP. [¶] When (MS1a) 
  roundabout (Cent)  ●  yellow nankeen roundabout (MS1a)  round-  | about (A) 
  How’m (A Cent)  ●  How am (MS1a) 
  any (A Cent)  ●  any  (MS1a) 
  was he (A Cent)  ●  was he (MS1a) 
  me (A Cent)  ●  me about it (MS1a) 
  see? Say— (C)  ●  see?— |  Say— (MS1a)  see? Say, (A Cent) 
  are (A Cent)  ●  not in  (MS1a) 
  Confound (A Cent)  ●  Consound (MS1a) 
  ole (A Cent)  ●  old (MS1a) 
  I’d ruther (A Cent)  ●  I’d druther (MS1a) 
  corn-pone (A Cent)  ●  corn pone (MS1a) 
  nothing (A Cent)  ●  anything (MS1a) 
  G-o-r-g-e (A Cent)  ●  G-o-r-g-e, (MS1a) 
  buckskin (A Cent)  ●  buck- | skin (MS1a) 
  got tuckered out (A Cent)  ●  stopped (MS1a) 
  nor interested (A Cent)  ●  not in  (MS1a) 
  underneath (A Cent)  ●  a hole underneath (MS1a) 
  those (A Cent)  ●  these (MS1a) 
  real ones is (A Cent)  ●  such things generally is, and looked ever so natural (MS1a) 
  out (A Cent)  ●  not in  (MS1a) 
  “Pilgrim’s Progress,” (A Cent)  ●  Pilgrim’s Progress,  (MS1a) 
  The . . . tough. (A Cent)  ●  not in  (MS1a) 
  Another (A Cent)  ●  Another one (MS1a) 
  “Friendship’s Offering,” (A Cent)  ●  Friendship’s Offering,  (MS1a) 
  or dead (A Cent)  ●  not in  (MS1a) 
  And there (A Cent)  ●  There (MS1a) 
  busted (A Cent)  ●  broke (MS1a) 
  blacker, mostly (A Cent)  ●  blacker in places, and whiter in other places (MS1a) 
  arm-pits (A Cent)  ●  arm- | pits (MS1a) 
  like a chisel, (A Cent)  ●  not in  (MS1a) 
  handkerchief (A Cent)  ●  hander- | chief, (MS1a) 
  Never See Thee More Alas (A Cent)  ●  never see thee more alas (MS1a) 
  Shall Never Hear Thy Sweet Chirrup More Alas (A Cent)  ●  shall never hear thy sweet chirrup more alas (MS1a) 
  mashing (A Cent)  ●  squeezing (MS1a) 
  Art Thou Gone Yes Thou Art Gone Alas (A Cent)  ●  art thou gone, yes thou art gone alas (MS1a) 
  reckoned, that (A)  ●  reckoned, (MS1a)  reckoned that, (Cent) 
  graveyard (Cent)  ●  grave- | yard (MS1a A) 
  to (A Cent)  ●  at (MS1a) 
  spidery, seemed to me (A Cent)  ●  spidery (MS1a) 
  “it made her look too spidery.” (C)  ●  not in  (MS1a Cent)  “it made her look spidery.” (A) 
  Ode to Stephen Dowling Bots, Dec’d. (A)  ●  Ode to Stephen Dowling Bots, Dec’d.  |  centered rule  (MS1a) 
  sickness’ (A)  ●  sickness’s (MS1a) 
  drear, (A)  ●  mar (MS1a) 
  stomach troubles laid him low, (A)  ●  bowel trouble laid full low (MS1a) 
  no. (A)  ●  no! (MS1a) 
  great. (A)  ●  great. extra line space Now all young people, come listen unto me:  |  So shape ye your varigated lots,  |  That you can all die, when you come for to die,  |  Like the late sweet Stephen D. Bots. (MS1a)  not in  (Cent) 
  no (A Cent)  ●  any (MS1a) 
  a (A)  ●  have (MS1a)  ’a’ (Cent) 
  to stop (A Cent)  ●  and stop (MS1a) 
  sadful (A Cent)  ●  sad-like (MS1a) 
  her (A Cent)  ●  her memory (MS1a) 
  warn’t (A Cent)  ●  I warn’t (MS1a) 
  nobody (A Cent)  ●  anybody (MS1a) 
  lovely (A Cent)  ●  sweet (MS1a) 
  “The . . . Broken” (A)  ●  The . . . Broken  (MS1a)  “The . . . Broken,” (Cent) 
  “The . . . Prague” (A Cent)  ●  The . . . Prague  (MS1a) 
  too! (A Cent)  ●  too? (MS1a) 
Alterations in the Manuscript Chapter XVII.
 don’t] ‘d’ written over partially formed ‘t’.
 some of you,] interlined above canceled ‘old woman,’.
 Betsy,] interlined.
 Shepherdsons?”] follows canceled ‘Petersons?’.
 Now,] follows canceled ‘Step for’.
 you;] the semicolon mended in pencil from a comma.
 parlor] follows canceled ‘si’.
 old] follows canceled ‘o’.
 Betsy,”] the quotation marks added in pencil.
 “you] the MS reads ‘ “You’ (emended); the quotation marks added in pencil.
 a little] follows canceled ‘bigger’.
 one. He] originally ‘one. [¶] He took’; [¶] ‘He took’ canceled and ‘He’ added.
 Shepherdsons] originally ‘Shepherdson’s’; the apostrophe wiped out.
 I] originally ‘I’’; the apostrophe wiped out.
 now] originally ‘know’; ‘k’ canceled.
 a roundabout] the MS reads ‘a yellow nankeen roundabout’ (emended); ‘a yellow nankeen’ interlined above canceled ‘some blue jeans’.
 could] followed by a caret added and canceled with no interlineation.
 catched] follows one or two canceled partly formed letters.
 she] possibly added.
 Are] follows canceled ‘All’.
 all] interlined.
 no] followed by a canceled comma.
 left,] followed by canceled ‘and before’.
 everybody] follows canceled ‘I w’.
 in the morning,] interlined above canceled ‘away yonder in the morning,’.
 name,] the comma mended from a period.
 right,” says I, “go] originally ‘right—go’; the comma added following ‘right’; the closing quotation marks and ‘says I,’ interlined above the uncanceled dash, and the opening quotation marks added preceding ‘go’; the dash inadvertently left standing.
 ahead.”] followed by canceled [¶] ‘ “Gorge Jaxon—now’.
 “G-o-r-g-e] followed by an added comma and ‘George,’ interlined and then canceled; the comma inadvertently left standing; all revisions in pencil.
 J-a-x-o-n] followed by ‘Jackson’ interlined and then canceled in pencil.
 “Well,” says I, “you] originally ‘ “Well, you’; ‘says I,’ interlined; the closing and opening quotation marks added.
 on] follows canceled ‘no’.
 parlors] interlined without a caret above canceled ‘houses’.
 pouring] written over ‘r’.
 call] originally ‘called’; ‘ed’ canceled.
 start in] ‘in’ interlined in pencil.
 chalk,] interlined above canceled ‘hard dough’.
 other;] the semicolon possibly mended from a period.
 wild-turkey-wing] follows canceled ‘turk’ with the ‘k’ partly formed; the hyphen following ‘wild’ added in pencil.
 kind] follows canceled ‘plate’.
 redder] follows canceled ‘brigh’.
 spread-eagle] followed by canceled ‘on it’.
 reticule, and] ‘a reticule, and’ interlined; ‘a’ canceled; all revisions in pencil.
 laying] interlined.
 black] follows canceled ‘a’.
 fan-tods. Everybody] originally ‘fan-tods, as you’; the period and ‘Everybody’ written over the wiped-out comma and ‘as you’.
 because] follows canceled ‘but I reckoned maybe it was best,’.
 all] interlined above canceled ‘nearly’.
 of a] ‘a’ added.
 and accidents . . . suffering] interlined.
  Dec’d.] the MS reads ‘Dec’d.’ (emended); originally ‘Deceased.’;’ ‘d.’ interlined above canceled ‘eased.’
 thickened,] interlined without a caret below ‘him’ to replace interlined and canceled ‘sickened,’.
 sickness’] the MS reads ‘sickness’s’ (emended); originally ‘sicknesses’; the apostrophe added above canceled ‘e’.
 head] follows canceled ‘curly’.
 falling] originally ‘fallen’ or ‘fallin’; either ‘e’ mended to ‘i’ or ‘i’ retraced; an apostrophe added to read ‘fallin’’; ‘g’ added and the apostrophe inadvertently left standing.
 dead . . . all,] interlined.
Textual Notes Chapter XVII.
 and Tom and Mort died, and by and by mam died,] As in the manuscript; the second clause is missing in the first edition. Although Mark Twain might have deleted it on the typescript, it is more likely that the typist accidentally omitted it, when his eye skipped from “died,” to “died,” in exactly the same position in the line below.

Explanatory Notes Chapter XVII.
 about as old as me—thirteen or fourteen or along there] In 1895, while preparing to read from his book, Mark Twain noted to himself that Huck was “a boy of 14” (Notebook 35, TS p. 35, CU-MARK, in Blair 1960a, 143). Kemble’s illustrations, however, mistakenly suggest a younger boy. In chapter 26, for example, Huck appears diminutive compared with Joanna Wilks, a girl of fourteen (206.35–36 and illustrations on pages 221 and 224).
 he asked me where Moses was when the candle went out] This “common riddle” inspired an 1878 “popular ‘serio-comic song’ ” by John Stamford, “Where Was Moses When the Lights Went Out?” (Hearn 2001, 168).
 hadn’t seen no house . . . had so much style] The Grangerford property generally resembles that of John Quarles, Clemens’s uncle, who lived in the country near Florida, Missouri, where Clemens recalled he spent “two or three months every year, from the fourth year after we removed to Hannibal till I was eleven or twelve years old” (SLC 1897–98, 37). In many of its furnishings, however, the Grangerford parlor resembles what Mark Twain described in the “House Beautiful” chapter of Life on the Mississippi as the typical “residence of the principal citizen” of towns in the Mississippi Valley, “all the way from the [begin page 416] suburbs of New Orleans to the edge of St. Louis” (chapter 38, SLC 1883a, 406). Mark Twain almost certainly wrote the description of the Grangerford house and parlor in 1876, six years before he wrote the “House Beautiful” chapter.
 There was a clock . . . strike a hundred and fifty before she got tuckered out] The clock of the Sellers household exhibits the same peculiarity in chapter 7 of The Gilded Age (SLC 1873–74; Hearn 2001, 172).
 prettier than real ones . . . white chalk or whatever it was, underneath] In Life on the Mississippi, Mark Twain scorned such decorative fruit, “all done in plaster, rudely, or in wax, and painted to resemble the originals—which they don’t” (chapter 38, SLC 1883, 400). The Grangerfords’ “apples and oranges and peaches and grapes” were perhaps manufactured by the daughters, acting on the sort of encouragement one could find in articles like “The Art of Making Wax Fruit and Flowers” in Godey’s Lady’s Book and Magazine: “So exact indeed are they, if well made, that the most practised eye cannot sometimes detect the real from the artificial” (Hale and Godey, 20).
 “Pilgrim’s Progress,” about a man that left his family, it didn’t say why] John Bunyan’s allegory, The Pilgrim’s Progress from This World, to That Which Is to Come (1678). Clemens owned several copies, including a facsimile of the first edition, published in 1875 (Gribben 1980, 1:111–12).
 “Friendship’s Offering,”. . . but I didn’t read the poetry] In Life on the Mississippi, Mark Twain included Friendship’s Offering, with its “sappy inanities illustrated in die-away mezzotints,” among the books arranged “with cast-iron exactness” on the center table of the House Beautiful (chapter 38, SLC 1883a, 400). First published in 1841 in Philadelphia, Friendship’s Offering was typical of the annuals and gift books that flooded the market in the 1840s. It combined moralizing verse and prose with a dozen or so illustrative steel engravings. Its first editor, Miss Catharine H. Waterman, argued that such books “elevate the general standard of taste,” and that the illustrations helped ensure that the contributions “will be read” (Waterman, iii-iv). But Mark Twain recognized that the books were, in fact, designed as much to be seen as read. When, several years later, he criticized the unnatural speech of certain characters in James Fenimore Cooper’s novels, he likened their style to “an illustrated, gilt-edged, tree-calf, hand-tooled, seven-dollar Friendship’s Offering” (SLC 1895b, 2, cited by Gribben 1980, 1:246–47).
 Henry Clay’s Speeches] Probably Speeches of the Honorable Henry Clay, in the Congress of the United States, edited by Richard Chambers and published in 1842. Famous for his eloquence and his combativeness, Clay (1777–1852) was closely identified with Kentucky throughout his public career as congressman, senator, and secretary of state. He was an advocate of states’ rights and one of the architects of the Missouri Compromise. According to an 1884 biographical sketch written with Orion Clemens’s assistance, John Marshall Clemens “believed strongly in Henry Clay” (Holcombe,915).
 Dr. Gunn’s Family Medicine . . . if a body was sick or dead] Gunn’s Domestic Medicine, or Poor Man’s Friend, in the Hours of Affliction, Pain and Sickness, first copyrighted by John C. Gunn in 1832. The title page of the eighth edition (1836) gives an account of the book’s purpose: “This book points out, in plain language, free from doctors’ terms, the diseases of men, women, and children, and the latest and most approved means used in their cure, and is intended expressly for the benefit of families in the western and southern states. It also contains descriptions of the medicinal roots and herbs of the western and southern country, and how they are to be used in the cure of diseases. Arranged on a new and simple plan, by which the practice of medicine is reduced to principles of common sense.”
 Washingtons, and Lafayettes, and battles . . . “Signing the Declaration.”] Engraved reproductions of portraits of George Washington and other Revolutionary War heroes, such as the Marquis de Lafayette, from paintings by John Trumbull (1756–1843), Emanuel Leutze (1816–68), and many others, were very popular in the early nineteenth century. Mark Twain mentioned an engraving of Leutze’s “Washington Crossing the Delaware” and two of paintings by Trumbull in chapter 38 of Life on the Mississippi. “Signing the Declaration” was almost certainly a reproduction of Trumbull’s most famous painting, “The Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776,” completed in 1820 (Cooper, 76).
 Highland Marys] Widely circulated pictures of Mary Campbell, or “Highland Mary,” whose early death in 1786 inspired several of Robert Burns’s poems, and made her a favorite subject for sentimental painters and engravers in Britain and the United States.
 some that they called crayons . . . blacker, mostly, than is common] “Crayon” was the term used for a drawing executed in pastel or paste. In chapter 38 of Life on the Mississippi, Mark Twain said that the House Beautiful had “framed in black mouldings on the wall, other works of art, conceived and committed on the premises, by the young ladies; being grim black-and-white crayons; landscapes, mostly . . . name of criminal conspicuous in the corner” (SLC 1883a, 403).
 

a woman in a slim black dress . . . Never See Thee More Alas.”] Although new to Huck, this picture would have been familiar to any middle-class reader. It includes the “stock elements” of standard nineteenth-century mourning pictures: “the weeping willow, tombstone, and pensive mourner leaning on the monument. Even the style of dress common in mourning pictures is accurately reproduced” by Huck’s description (Strickland, 228). Huck’s allusion to this woman’s “very wee black slippers, like a chisel” is echoed in Mark Twain’s characterization, in chapter 38 of Life on the Mississippi, of illustrations in Godey’s Lady’s Book: “each five-foot woman with a two-inch wedge sticking from under her dress and letting-on to be half of her foot” (SLC 1883a, 400). See the illustrations.

Left: Mourning print, by D. W. Kellogg and Company, lithographers (Hartford, ca. 1835); the purchaser of the print wrote the name and death date of the deceased on the tombstone. From the collection of Professor Barton Levi St. Armand. Right: Mourning print, by William S. Pendleton, lithographer (Boston, ca. 1836), with a handwritten inscription on the tombstone. Courtesy of The Harry T. Peters “America on Stone” Lithography Collection, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C.

 

dead bird laying on its back . . . tears running down her cheeks] Magazines such as Godey’s Lady’s Book frequently illustrated children mourning their dead pets, particularly pet birds: for example, “The Dead Dove” in the February 1852 issue, or “The Dead Robin” in The Ladies’ Repository (Cincinnati) for May 1855. Engravings depicting bereaved women—often using narrative details like the black sealing-wax—were likewise commonplace. See, for example, “The Widow” in the 1847 Friendship’s Offering; “The Empty Cradle” in Godey’s Lady’s Book for 1847; or “Woman’s Grief” in the 1842 Friendship’s [begin page 419] Offering, reproduced below. In this case the accompanying verse solemnly indicates that the bereaved woman broods “Over one only thought,—the stunning thought | That he was dead, who loved so long and well!” (Esling, 33).

 

young woman . . . on the rail of a bridge all ready to jump off] Portrayals of women in despair, appealing to heaven for relief or threatening suicide, were less than commonplace in the ladies’ magazines and annuals; nonetheless the genre of even this outlandish drawing can be identified with the following, called “Supplication,” in the November 1848 issue of Graham’s Magazine (Fayette Robinson, frontispiece, 267).

 the Presbyterian Observer] The Presbyterian Observer (Baltimore and Philadelphia) did not begin publication until 1872, but there were numerous newspapers and magazines with very similar names at the time of the story; for example, the Christian Observer, subtitled “ ‘A Presbyterian Family Newspaper,’ founded at Philadelphia in 1813” (Mott 1931, 137), and the Presbyterian Sentinel, published in Louisville, 1841–44.
 

Ode to Stephen Dowling Bots, Dec’d] Sentimental obituary verse was ubiquitous in American magazines, annuals, and gift books at the time of the story. Like many fellow humorists, Mark Twain could not resist the temptation to burlesque this form. He published his first parody of an elegiac poem, “The Burial of Sir Abner Gilstrap,” in 1853 at the age of seventeen ( ET&S1 , 106–9). In 1854 he became familiar with mortuary doggerel published routinely in the death notices of the Philadelphia Public Ledger, and almost certainly “set up some of that poetry” altered for comic purposes while working as a compositor on the Ledger (SLC 1885e). He eventually published two brief articles in 1870 and another in the 1880s on the subject (SLC 1870c; SLC 1870d; SLC [1880?]; Budd 1977, 2). A number of “sources” for this “Ode” have been proposed, ranging from the poetry of Julia A. Moore to the hymns of Isaac Watts to the columns of the Philadelphia Ledger itself (Blair 1960a, 209–13; Byers 1971; Branch 1984, 2–3). But Mark Twain’s “Ode” is a burlesque of the form, not a parody of any particular obituary verse or writer of such verse, and given his long acquaintance with such poems, it is unlikely that any single “model” can be identified. In his manuscript, Mark Twain originally ended the poem with an additional stanza, which he deleted before publication. It burlesques the diction and exhorting tone of such verse, and echoes the first or last stanzas of typical English ballads (see, for instance, Evelyn Kendrick Wells, 217–19, 272; Bronson 1962, 2:327–29; Bronson 1976, 23, 414):

Now all young people, come listen unto me:
So shape ye your varigated lots,
That you can all die, when you come for to die,
Like the late sweet Stephen D. Bots.
(MS1, 427½, NBuBE)
 Emmeline Grangerford] In the library of the Clemens family’s Hartford house was an “impressionist water-color” of the “head of a beautiful young girl, life-size—called Emmeline, because she looked just about like that.” The Clemenses purchased this portrait by Daniele Ranzoni in Italy in 1878 (AD, 8 Feb 1906, CU-MARK, in MTA , 2:73; N&J2 , 187 n. 50).
 They kept Emmeline’s room . . . just the way she liked] This procedure, common in the period of the book, received the ultimate endorsement [begin page 421] in 1861, upon the death of Prince Albert. Queen Victoria kept his room at Windsor Castle unchanged and, like Huck and Mrs. Grangerford with Emmeline’s room, visited it and meditated there.
 little old piano, too, that had tin pans in it] The piano may actually have had tin pans in it: “Piano-makers of the early nineteenth century, responding to the programmatic demands of the battle-pieces and to the popularity of Turkish music and instruments, introduced devices for the production of a variety of unusual musical effects. Extra pedals were constructed which permitted the pianist to embellish his performance with the sound of cymbals, drums, and bells” (Slater, 111). See also the note to 141.19.
 

“The Last Link is Broken”] A sentimental song written by William Clifton in about 1840:

The last link is broken that bound me to thee,
And the words thou hast spoken have render’d me free;
That bright glance misleading, on others may shine,
Those eyes smil’d unheeding when tears burst from mine.

(Clifton)

In the margin of the manuscript page on which Sophia Grangerford is introduced, Clemens wrote “Sophia. Last Link.” In 1897 he recalled that he associated this song with a Hannibal contemporary of his, Eliza Hyde, and he used it to illustrate his remark that “songs tended to regrets for bygone days and vanished joys” in the days of his youth ( Inds , 96, 99). In chapter 38, Tom will call it “painful music.”

 

“The Battle of Prague”] A ten-minute piano piece of program music written in 1788 by Franz Kotzwara (1730–91) of Bohemia. It featured staccato notes to simulate flying bullets and a wailing treble figure to suggest the cries of the wounded. By the 1840s it had become an overworked standard (Slater, 108–9). In 1913, Clemens’s childhood friend Anna Laura Hawkins (Laura Frazer) remembered how she and the twelve-year-old Clemens used to climb a hill to visit Mrs. Richard T. Holliday: “Her house, I remember, had a special attraction for us. She owned a piano, and it was not merely a piano; it was a piano with a drum attachment. Oh, ‘The Battle of Prague,’ executed with that marvelous drum attachment! It was our favorite selection, because it had so much drum in it” (Abbott, 17; Hawkins and Holliday are identified in notes to 47.17 and 1.15–16). In A Tramp Abroad—and in an 1878 notebook entry ( N&J2 , 142)—Mark Twain described a performance of this piece by an Arkansas bride which he had heard in a Swiss hotel drawing room:

Without any more preliminaries, she turned on all the horrors of the “Battle of Prague,” that venerable shivaree, and waded chin deep in the blood of the slain. . . . The audience stood it with pretty fair grit for a while, but when the cannonade [begin page 422] waxed hotter and fiercer, and the discord-average rose to four in five, the procession began to move. A few stragglers held their ground ten minutes longer, but when the girl began to wring the true inwardness out of the “cries of the wounded,” they struck their colors and retired in a kind of panic. . . . She got an amount of anguish into the cries of the wounded that shed a new light on human suffering. (Chapter 32, SLC 1880a, 341–45)

 The walls of all the rooms was plastered] Plastered walls were thought to be a sign of affluence or sophistication. In an 1870 reminiscence Mark Twain quoted a woman from Fentress County, Tennessee, who expressed the following opinion of what her son and daughter-in-law had done to their house: “ ‘They’ve tuck ’n’ gaumed the inside of theirn all over with some kind of nasty disgustin’ truck which they say is all the go in Kaintuck amongst the upper hunky, & which they calls it plarsterin’!’ ” (SLC 1870a, 7). Mark Twain later adapted this description for Si Higgins’s “high-toned” house in chapter 1 of The Gilded Age (SLC 1873–74, 21).