Sut Lovingood yarns spun by a "nat'ral born durn'd fool ; warped and wove for public wear |
DEDICATORY. |
 | Sut Lovingood |  |
DEDICATORY.
“Well, Sut, your stories are all ready for the printer;
to whom do you wish to dedicate the work?”
“I don't keer much, George; haint hit a kine ove lick-skillet
bisness, enyhow—sorter like the waggin ove a
dorg's tail, when he sees yu eatin ove sassengers? But
yere goes: How wud Anner Dickinson du tu pack hit
ontu?”
“Oh, Sut, that would never do. What! dedicate such
nonsense as yours to a woman? How will this do?
DEDICATED TO
THE MEMORY OF
ELBRIDGE GERRY EASTMAN,
THE ABLE EDITOR, AND FINISHED GENTLEMAN, THE FRIEND, WHOSE KINDLY
VOICE FIRST INSPIRED MY TIMID PEN WITH HOPE.
GRATEFUL MEMORY
DROPS A TEAR AMONG THE FLOWERS, AS AFFECTION STREWS THEM
O'ER HIS GRAVE.”
“Won't begin tu du, George. The idear ove enybody
bein grateful, ur rememberin a dead friend now-a-days!
mix in decent s'ciety while I lived. Tare that up,
George.”
“Well, what do you say to this, Sut?
TO
WILLIAM CRUTCHFIELD, OF CHATTANOOGA,
MY FRIEND IS STORM AND SUNSHINE, BRAVE ENOUGH TO BE TRUE, AND TRUE
ENOUGH TO BE SINGULAR; ONE WHO SAYS WHAT HE THINKS,
AND VERY OFTEN THINKS WHAT HE SAYS.”
“That won't du either, hoss. 'Tis mos' es bad tu be
grateful tu the livin es the dead. I tell ya hit ain't
smart. Ef ever yu is grateful at all, show hit tu them
what yu expeck will du a favor, never tu the 'tarnil fool
what hes dun hit. Never es yu expeck tu git tu heaven,
never pay fur a ded hoss. An' more, every fice ur houn
dorg what either him ur me has wallop'd fur thar nastiness,
wud open ontu our trail—ontu him fur buyin me,
an' ontu me fur bein bought. No, George, I'll do ontill
Bill gets poor ur dus sum devilmint. I'll tell yu what
I'll du, I'll jis' dedercate this yere perduction tu the
durndest fool in the United States, an' Massachusets too,
he or she. An then, by golly, I'll jis' watch hu claims
hit.”
“Very well, Sut; how shall I write it? how designate
the proper one?”
“Jis' this way; hits the easiest dun thing in the
world:
DEDERCATED
WIF THE SYMPERTHYS OVE THE ORTHUR,
TU THE MAN UR 'OMAN, HUEVER THEY BE,
WHAT DON'T READ THIS YERE BOOK.
Don't that kiver the case tu a dot? Hu knows but
what I'se dedercatin hit tu mysef at las'. Well, I don't
keer a durn, I kin stan hit, ef the rest ove em kin.”
| Sut Lovingood | |