116. CXVI.
THE BOW-LEGGED KNITE; OR, THE RED-HEADED
APOTHECARY'S DOOM.
A THRILLIN TALE.
Chapter I.
'T was nite, in Posey County, Ingeany!
[For a full description uv sed nite, see Chapter I uv the author's last
and greatest work, “The Rival Blood-tubs; or, The Struggle for Crout.”]
The lovely Marguerite de Smythe wuz alone in
her chamber. Her hed wuz bowed on a table, on2
wich flickered the dim lite uv a cotton rag floatin
in a sarser uv lard. Her disheveled hair, her
elasticless stockins, and, more than all else, the
hole in the heel uv wun uv em, showed that she
wuz laborin under some feerful emotion. For
awhile she sot, her fair buzzum heevin like old
Ocean when Boreas smites it, her whole frame
quiverin like a peach-tree with a dozen little niggers
in it. At larst her overcharged feelins found
vent in tears.
“Marion!” she cried, “thy mop, girl!” and for
12 hours the faithful handmaiden mopped up the
pearly tears ez they fell from those beauteous
orbs, wringin the rags out of the winder.
“This suspense is intolerable,” muttered the
frenzied Marguerite. “I kin endoor it no longer.
Timothy! Timothy!” she shreeked, in a agony
uv despair.
Skasely hed the word left her lips ere a step
wuz heerd upon the stairs. It approached nearer
and nearer—“Thank Heven, 't is him!” screamed
the delited girl, ez she threw a buffalo-robe upon
the floor to faint on in case Timothy shood fale to
ketch her in his arms. Nearer and nearer the
step approached; a heavy hand wuz laid upon the
latch, the door flew open, and Marguerite rushed
into the arms uv—not Timothy—but the Bow-legged
Knite! A demoniakle smile played over
his sinister countenance ez, wringin the neck uv
Marion and pitchin her out uv the winder, he restored
the inannymate Marguerite 2 conshusnis,
by sousin a barl or 2 uv water upon her.
Chapter II.
Marguerite wuz kum 2, and boldly confronted
the hated monster who stood afore her.
“Villin! wretch! sanguinary skunk!” she exclaimed,
her nose turnin up in skorn until it
reached the top uv her head, and caught on a
hair-pin; “what wouldst thou with me?”
“Thy hand!”
“O, Heven! that I, the last uv a long and
noble line, shood live to hear this!” exclaimed the
maiden, drawin herself up to her full hite, by
means uv a pulley in the ceelin.
“Last uv a long and noble line! By my halidome,
thou speekest trooly—thou art the last uv
a long and noble line—a clothes-line! Thy father
hung himself with the one thy mother used in her
biznis. But enuff uv this. Mine thou must be.
Thou knowst me well. Cross my purposes, and I
am ez frackshus ez a two-year old colt with a
chestnut burr under his tail; humor me, and I
am ez amiable ez a chicken with dough afore it.
Ez for Timothy, yoo shel never wed him—his
doom is seeled! Let me but see him cast a look
on thee, and I 'll punch the low-born varlet in the
stumick—thus.”
And the Bow-legged Knite, drawin his shinin
blade, made 2 or 3 hundred passes at the wall,
endin by turnin a double-somerset.
Skasely wuz he dun, when the door flew open
and Timothy appeared. Marguerite shreeked,
while the Knite threw himself between the doomed
apothecary and the door, and drawd his sword.
“Ha! ha! ho! ho! I hev thee now, thou pillmixer!
thou peddler uv Injin remedies! Prepare
for instant death!” exclaimed the Knite, makin
a tremenjus blow. But the wary apothecary wuz
on his gard, and ez the blow descended, he stept
aside. Another blow, dodge; blow, dodge; blow,
dodge. Finally, the luckless apothecary, bearin
the lifeless form uv Marguerite, wuz in a corner.
Retreat wuz out uv the question, and further
dodgin impossible. A happy thot struck him.
Ez the sword uv the Knite desended, he dexterously
interposed the body uv Marguerite, ducked
his head, darted between the legs uv the Knite,
and run like a dog with a tin kittle tied to his
tail. The Knite, robbed uv his vengeance, and
seein his beloved Marguerite dead at his feet,
stabbed hisself and died also.
Chapter III.
2 months elapst. Timothy ventured back, and
a horrible site met his vision. The lovely Marguerite
wuz cut in 2, and the Knite, stun-dead,
wuz lyin beside her. But he wuz not to be discouraged
by small difficulties. Drawin the two
pieces uv the beloved Marguerite together, he applied
Radway's Ready Relief. “Thank Heven!”
he exclaimed, ez the flesh united. A dose of the
Renovatin Resolvent, follered immediately by Repeatin
Regulators, restored her to life, consciousnis,
appetite, and Timothy. They were married
the next day.
Timothy wuz not vindictive. Upon the Knite's
promisin never to molest him agin, he brought him
to life, and paid his fare to Shecago, where he is
now runnin a hack, and doin well.
[Note by the Author.—Singler ez it may appear to the reader, the
above beautiful tale wuz rejected by the conseetid editors of the Atlantic
Monthly! I wuz not born in Boston.]
THE EEND.
