't no use, you know, it warn't no
use. An' that was the last we see of _him_ for about two minutes 'n' a
half, an' then all of a sudden it begin to rain rocks and rubbage an'
directly he come down ker-whoop about ten foot off f'm where we stood.
Well, I reckon he was p'raps the orneriest-lookin' beast you ever see.
One ear was sot back on his neck, 'n' his tail was stove up, 'n' his
eye-winkers was singed off, 'n' he was all blacked up with powder an'
smoke, an' all sloppy with mud 'n' slush f'm one end to the other. Well,
sir, it warn't no use to try to apologize--we couldn't say a word. He
took a sort of a disgusted look at hisself, 'n' then he looked at
us--an' it was just exactly the same as if he had said--'Gents, maybe
_you_ think it's smart to take advantage of a cat that ain't had no
experience of quartz-minin', but _I_ think _different_'--an' then he
turned on his heel 'n' marched off home without ever saying another
word.

"That was jest his style. An' maybe you won't believe it, but after that
you never see a cat so prejudiced agin quartz-mining as what he was. An'
by an' by when he _did_ get to goin' down in the shaft ag'in, you'd 'a'
been astonished at his sagacity. The minute we'd tetch off a blast 'n'
the fuse'd begin to sizzle, he'd give a look as much as to say, 'Well,
I'll have to git you to excuse _me_,' an' it was supris'n' the way he'd
shin out of that hole 'n' go f'r a tree. Sagacity? It ain't no name for
it. 'Twas _inspiration_!"

I said, "Well, Mr. Baker, his prejudice against quartz-mining _was_
remarkable, considering how he came by it. Couldn't you ever cure him of
it?"

"_Cure him!_ No! When Tom Quartz was sot once, he was _always_ sot--and
you might 'a' blowed him up as much as three million times 'n' you'd
never 'a' broken him of his cussed prejudice ag'in quartz-mining."

MARK TWAIN.

THE BLACK CAT

For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I
neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it in
a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet mad am I
not--and very surely do I not dream. But tomorrow I die, and today I
would unburthen my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the
world plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere
household events. In their consequences these events have
terrified--have tortured--have destroyed me. Yet I will n