Paul's steeple and what a fuss the vestry of Trinity Parish made.
That's something he knows about. that's part of the history of our
country.
Well, when Mr. Barnum first came to our town, all around one tent
were vans full of the very identical Moral Waxworks that we had
read about, and had given up all hopes of ever seeing because New
York was so far away. There was the Dying Zouave. Oh, that was a
beauty! The Advance Courier said that "the crimson torrent of his
heart's blood spouted in rhythmic jets as the tide of life ebbed
silently away;" but I guess by the time they got to our town they
must have run all out of pokeberry juice, for the "crimson torrent"
didn't spout at all. But his bosom heaved every so often, and he
rolled up his eyes something grand! I liked it, but my mother said
it was horrid. That's the way with women. They don't like anything
that anybody else does. There's no pleasing 'em. And she thought
the Drunkard's Family was "kind o' low." It wasn't either. It was
fine, and taught a great moral lesson. I told her so, but she said
it was low, just the same. She thought the Temperance Family was
nice, but it wasn't anywhere near as good as the Drunkard's Family.
Why, let me tell you. The Drunkard's Wife was in a ragged calico
dress, and her eye was all black and blue, where he had hit her the
week before.
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