Twain, Mark, 1835-1910 / 2008-10-28 00:00:00
"
"Sir, I am poor, I grant you. But is fame nothing? The Hon. Bellamy
Foodle of Arkansas says that my new statue of America, is a clever piece
of sculpture, and he is satisfied that my name will one day be famous."
"Bosh! What does that Arkansas ass know about it? Fame's nothing--the
market price of your marble scarecrow is the thing to look at. It took
you six months to chisel it, and you can't sell it for a hundred dollars.
No, sir! Show me fifty thousand dollars and you can have my daughter
--otherwise she marries young Simper. You have just six months to raise
the money in. Good morning, sir."
"Alas! Woe is me!"
CHAPTER III
[ Scene-The Studio.]
"Oh, John, friend of my boyhood, I am the unhappiest of men."
"You're a simpleton!"
"I have nothing left to love but my poor statue of America--and see, even
she has no sympathy for me in her cold marble countenance--so beautiful
and so heartless!"
"You're a dummy!"
"Oh, John!"
Oh, fudge! Didn't you say you had six months to raise the money in?"
"Don't deride my agony, John. If I had six centuries what good would it
do? How could it help a poor wretch without name, capital, or friends?"
"Idiot! Coward! Baby! Six months to raise the money in--and five will
do!"
"Are you insane?"
"Six months--an abundance. Leave it to me.
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