The Optimist, and What He Died Of

One summer evening, while strolling with considerable difficulty over

Russian Hill, San Francisco, Mr. Grile espied a man standing upon the

extreme summit, with a pensive brow and a suit of clothes which seemed

to have been handed down through a long line of ancestors from a remote

Jew peddler. Mr. Grile respectfully saluted; a man who has any clothes

at all is to him an object of veneration. The stranger opened the

conversation:

“My son,” said he, in a tone suggestive of strangulation by the

Sheriff, “do you behold this wonderful city, its wharves crowded with

the shipping of all nations?”

Mr. Grile beheld with amazement.

“Twenty-one years ago—alas! it used to be but twenty,” and he wiped

away a tear—“you might have bought the whole dern thing for a Mexican

ounce.”

Mr. Grile hastened to proffer a paper of tobacco, which disappeared

like a wisp of oats drawn into a threshing machine.

“I was one among the first who—”

Mr. Grile hit him on the head with a paving-stone by way of changing

the topic.

“Young man,” continued he, “do you feel this bommy breeze? There isn’t

a climit in the world—”

This melancholy relic broke down in a fit of coughing. No sooner had he

recovered than he leaped into the air, making a frantic clutch at

something, but apparently without success.

“Dern it,” hissed he, “there goes my teeth; blowed out again, by

hokey!”

A passing cloud of dust hid him for a moment from view, and when he

reappeared he was an altered man; a paroxysm of asthma had doubled him

up like a nut-cracker.

“Excuse me,” he wheezed, “I’m subject to this; caught it crossin’ the

Isthmus in ’49. As I was a-sayin’, there’s no country in the world that

offers such inducements to the immygrunt as Californy. With her fertile

soil, her unrivalled climit, her magnificent bay, and the rest of it,

there is enough for all.”

This venerable pioneer picked a fragmentary biscuit from the street and

devoured it. Mr. Grile thought this had gone on about long enough. He

twisted the head off that hopeful old party, surrendered himself to the

authorities, and was at once discharged.

The Fiend's Delight · 第 31 / 119 题