"Mr. Brown, you don't want to buy a first-rate wooden leg, do you?
I've got one that I've been wearing for two or three years, and I
want to sell it. I'm hard up for money; and although I'm attached to
that leg, I'm willing to part with it, so's I kin get the necessaries
of life. Legs are all well enough; they are handy to have around the
house, and all that; but a man must attend to his stomach, if he has
to walk about on the small of his back. Now, I'm going to make you an
offer. That leg is Fairchild's patent; steel-springs, india-rubber
joints, elastic toes and everything, and it's in better order now
than it was when I bought it. It'd be a comfort to any man. It's the
most luxurious leg I ever came across. If bliss ever kin be reached
by a man this side of the tomb, it belongs to the person that gets
that leg on and feels the consciousness creeping over his soul that
it is his. Consequently, I say that when I offer it to you I'm doing
a personal favour; and I think I see you jump at the chance, and want
to clinch the bargain before I mention--you'll hardly believe it, I
know--that I'll actually knock that leg down to you at four hundred
dollars. Four hundred, did I say? I meant six hundred; but let it
stand. I never back out when I make an offer; but it's just throwing
that leg away--it is, indeed."
"But I don't want an artificial leg," said Brown.
"The beautiful thing about the limb," said the stranger, pulling up
his trousers and displaying the article, "is that it is reliable. You
kin depend on it. It's always there. Some legs that I have seen were
treacherous--most always some of the springs bursting out, or the
joints working backwards, or the toes turning down and ketching in
things. Regular frauds. But it's almost pathetic the way this leg
goes on year in and year out, like an old faithful friend, never
knowing an ache or a pain, no rheumatism, nor any such foolishness as
that, but always good-natured and ready to go out of its way to
oblige you. A. man feels like a man when he gets such a thing under
him. Talk about your kings and emperors and millionaires, and all
that sort of nonsense! Which of 'em's got a leg like that? Which of
'em kin unscrew his knee-pan, and look at the gum thingamajigs in his
calf? Which of 'em kin leave his leg downstairs in the entry on the
hat-rack, and go to bed with only one cold foot? Why, it's enough to
make one of them monarchs sick to think of such a convenience. But
they can't help it. There's only one man kin buy that leg, and that's
you. I want you to have it so bad that I'll deed it to you for fifty
dollars down. Awful, isn't it. Just throwing it away: but take it,
take it, if it does make my heart bleed to see it go out of the
family."
"Really, I have no use for such a thing," said Mr. Brown.
"You can't think," urged the stranger, "what a benediction a leg like
this is in a family. When you don't want to walk with it, it comes
into play for the children to ride horsey on; or you kin take it off
and stir the fire with it in a way that would depress the spirits of
a man with a real leg. It makes the most efficient potato-masher ever
you saw. Work it from the second joint, and let the knee swing loose;
you kin tack carpets perfectly splendid with the heel; and when a cat
sees it coming at him from the winder, he just adjourns, _sine die_,
and goes down off the fence screaming. Now, you're probably afeared
of dogs. When you see one approaching, you always change your base. I
don't blame you; I used to be that way before I lost my home-made
leg. But you fix yourself with this artificial extremity, and then
what do you care for dogs? If a million of 'em come at you, what's
the odds? You merely stand still and smile, and throw out your spare
leg, and let 'em chaw, let 'em fool with that as much as they've a
mind to, and howl and carry on, for you don't care. An' that's the
reason why I say that when I reflect on how imposing you'd be as the
owner of such a leg, I feel like saying, that if you insist on
offering only a dollar and a half for it, why, take it; it's yours.
I'm not the kinder man to stand on trifles. I'll take it off and wrap
it up in paper for you; shall I?"
"I'm sorry," said Brown, "but the fact is, I have no use for it. I've
got two good legs already. If I ever lose one, why, maybe, then
I'll----"
"I don't think you exactly catch my idea on the subject," said the
stranger. "Now, any man kin have a meat-and-muscle leg; they're as
common as dirt. It's disgusting how monotonous people are about such
things. But I take you for a man who wants to be original. You have
style about you. You go it alone, as it were. Now, if I had your
peculiarities, do you know what I'd do? I'd get a leg snatched off
some way, so's I could walk around on this one. Or, it you hate to go
to the expense of amputation, why not get your pantaloons altered,
and mount this beautiful work of art just as you stand? A centipede,
a mere ridicklous insect, has half a bushel of legs, and why can't a
man, the grandest creature on earth, own three? You go around this
community on three legs, and your fortune's made. People will go wild
over you as the three-legged grocer; the nation will glory in you;
Europe will hear of you; you will be heard of from pole to pole.
It'll build up your business. People'll flock from everywheres to see
you, and you'll make your sugar and cheese and things fairly hum.
Look at it as an advertisement! Look at it any way you please, and
there's money in it--there's glory, there's immortality. Now, look at
it that way; and if it strikes you, I tell you what I'll do: I'll
actually swap that imperishable leg off to you for two pounds of
water-crackers and a tin cupful of Jamaica rum. Is it a go?"
Then Brown weighed out the crackers, gave him a drink of rum, and
told him if he would take them as a present and quit he would confer
a favour. And he did. After emptying the crackers in his pockets, and
smacking his lips over the rum, he went to the door, and as he opened
it said,--
"Good-bye. But if you ever really do want a leg, Old Reliable is
ready for you; it's yours. I consider that you've got a mortgage on
it, and you kin foreclose at any time. I dedicate this leg to you. My
will shall mention it; and if you don't need it when I die, I'm going
to have it put in the savings bank to draw interest until you check
it out."