Manuscripts/Mixed Material [Yankee Innkeeper]
It went on about a year, I guess. Inside a year the Boston police sent up word that they'd got Glisky located, out in the woods of Michigan, and could produce him for $500. Well, Sullivan didn't leave any money behind him, and his brother couldn't raise five hundred dollars, and the town wouldn't. The town was awful poor — said Glisky and Sullivan weren't local follows, just transients — didn't see why they should bother about ‘em, put up any money on their account.
Glisky got off, scot free, so far as I know. I never heard anything more about him.
OLD ROCKING CHAIR
Take these old rocking chairs we're sitting in. Comfortable old chairs, aren't they. Don't make such chairs now. Fit your back and arms, and the seat rounds down just right. That little low one over there's my wife's favorite chair. Oh, hundred years old, I guess, more or less.
The other day a lady was in here. Saw that little mirror up on the wall there—that one in the black and gold frame, with the picture of The Dancing Girl on it. Said it was worth three hundred dollars. I guess she wanted to compliment us, or something. Bet she wouldn't offer three hundred dollars if she was trying to buy it.
I made a venture into the antique business once [md?] only once, I don't know much about it, but I saw a grandfather clock once when I was at the Black Mountain House, and I wanted it for the hotel. 'twas a handsome clock, all decorated with gilt and these spires and knobs and frills. Out in a country home, it was.
“How much you take for the clock?” I said to the man. “Why, I dunno,” said he, “dunno what they really are worth.” “Twenty-five dollars, say?” “Oh, no, no. Wouldn't sell for twenty-five dollars, would we, Ma?” referring to his wife. “Would you sell it for fifty dollars?” His eyes kind of lighted