The Very Day Our New Plough Came Home, The Father Of This Bright
Damsel, Who Went By The Familiar And Unenviable Title Of Old Satan,
Came Over To Borrow It (Though We Afterwards Found Out That He Had A
Good One Of His Own).
The land had never been broken up, and was
full of rocks and stumps, and he was anxious to save his own from
injury; the consequence was that the borrowed implement came home
unfit for use, just at the very time that we wanted to plough for
fall wheat.
The same happened to a spade and trowel, bought in
order to plaster the house. Satan asked the loan of them for ONE
hour for the same purpose, and we never saw them again.
The daughter came one morning, as usual, on one of these swindling
expeditions, and demanded of me the loan of some fine slack. Not
knowing what she meant by fine slack, and weary of her
importunities, I said I had none. She went away in a rage. Shortly
after she came again for some pepper. I was at work, and my work-box
was open upon the table, well stored with threads and spools of all
descriptions. Miss Satan cast her hawk's eye into it, and burst out
in her usual rude manner -
"I guess you told me a tarnation big lie the other day."
Unaccustomed to such language, I rose from my seat, and pointing to
the door, told her to walk out, as I did not choose to be insulted
in my own house.
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