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“HEAR THAT VOICE.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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59

Page 59

“HEAR THAT VOICE.”

Did the reader ever know a man grown, and big at
that, with a very small voice, that almost squealed in
uttering itself, and gave a most ridiculous aspect to what
was perhaps of great importance, as matters of life and
death, the reading of a will, an exhortation to virtue, or
an anxious inquiry concerning the health of friends? Of
course he has, for there are many such voices about.
An agent of a large manufacturing establishment in New
Hampshire possessed this peculiarity of voice to a remarkable
degree, which once was the cause of a most
mortifying and ludicrous mistake. A man came to the
factory to get employment, — a great burly fellow, with
a voice like young thunder, — and saluted the agent,
who was a small man, by the way, with the question,
“Do you want to hire?” in a tone that seemed to shake
the room in which they stood. Starting at the sound,
and with a face expressive of nervous irritability, he
drawled out, in his squeaking, querulous manner, as if
looking at each word before he uttered it,

“No — I — don't — know — as — I — do.”

The man, not understanding his peculiarity, attributed
the strange tones to another cause, and kindly extending
his huge hand, as one might suppose a friendly bear would
under like circumstances, patted the little agent on the
head, and soothingly uttered,

“Well, well, my little fellow, don't cry about it;
don't take on so, if you can't hire me!”


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Page 60

The contact of crude humanity with his delicate nead
operated as magically upon the agent as did the touch
of Captain Cuttle's hook upon the refined flesh of Dombey,
and frightful was the yell with which he met the
mechanic's sympathy in a command to leave the room,
and awfully vehement was the manner in which he
slammed the door to as the good-humored fellow passed
into the street.