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Description
applies;
And the swift chariot to the navy flies.
Not Ajax less the will of heaven descried,
And conquest shifting to the Trojan side,
Turn'd by the hand of Jove. Then thus begun,
To Atreus's seed, the godlike Telamon:
"Alas! who sees not Jove's almighty hand
Transfers the glory to the Trojan band?
Whether the weak or strong discharge the dart,
He guides each arrow to a Grecian heart:
Not so our spears; incessant though they rain,
He suffers every lance to fall in vain.
Details
is de glory? No, sah, I doan' want no sich
doin's.”
“Blame it, can't you _try_? I only _want_ you to try--you needn't keep
it up if it don't work.”
“But de trouble all _done_ ef de snake bite me while I's a tryin' him.
Mars Tom, I's willin' to tackle mos' anything 'at ain't onreasonable,
but ef you en Huck fetches a rattlesnake in heah for me to tame, I's
gwyne to _leave_, dat's _shore_.”
“Well, then, let it go, let it go, if you're so bull-headed about it.
We can get you some garter-snakes, and you can tie some buttons on
their tails, and let on they're rattlesnakes, and I reckon that 'll have
to do.”
“I k'n stan' _dem_, Mars Tom, but blame' 'f I couldn' get along widout
um, I tell you dat. I never knowed b'fo' 't was so much bother and
trouble to be a prisoner.”
“Well, it _always_ is when it's done right. You got any rats around
here?”
“No, sah, I hain't seed none.”
“Well, we'll get you some rats.”
“Why, Mars Tom, I doan' _want_ no rats. Dey's de dadblamedest creturs
to 'sturb a body, en rustle roun' over 'im, en bite his feet, when he's
tryin' to sleep, I ever see. No, sah, gimme g'yarter-snakes, 'f I's
got to have 'm, but doan' gimme no rats; I hain' got no use f'r um,
skasely.”
“But, Jim, you _got_ to have 'em--they all do. So don't make no more
fuss about it. Prisoners ain't ever without rats. There ain't no
instance of it. And they train them, and pet them, and learn them
tricks, and they get to be as sociable as flies. But you got to play
music to them. You got anything to play music on?”
“I ain' got nuffn but a coase comb en a piece o' paper, en a juice-harp;
but I reck'n dey wouldn' take no stock in a juice-harp.”
“Yes they would _they_ don't care what kind of music 'tis. A
jews-harp's plenty good enough for a rat. All animals like music--in a
prison they dote on it. Specially, painful music; and you can't get no
other kind out of a jews-harp. It always interests them; they come out
to see what's the matter with you. Yes, you'