At such
moments the stove-pipe becomes to him a magic telescope, through which
he peers far into the unfathomable depths.
There are times when, through the influence of passion, he for a
little time lays aside his oratorical embellishments. We remember one
such occasion. He had just finished sawing a pile of wood, when a
student, who was looking from a window, told him there was one stick
which he had not sawed, and taunted him with intending to purloin it.
Instantly his countenance became livid with rage, his lips separated,
showing a fine dental formation, and he exclaimed in pure
Anglo-Saxon:--
"You're a liar. You lie."
The student, perceiving from Bill's descent to the vernacular of
common men that his ire was roused, abjectly and unqualifiedly
apologized.
"Well," said the orator, threateningly, "you'd better take that back.
I've sawed wood more'n thirty year, an' no man ever 'cused me o'
stealin'." Then gradually becoming good-natured, he added,
"Crucifixin' yourself in the observatories of life in the gray dawn
over your jewelry. No sir, I never stole nothin'.
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