The devil entered into Charity (not by any means for the first
time), and she told the man composedly that if he would give her
ten tickets he might paper over the cottage as well as the barn,
for they were going to tear it down shortly and build a larger one.
The advance agent was delighted, and they passed a pleasant
hour together; Charity holding the paste-pot, while the talkative
gentleman glued six lions and an elephant on the roof,
a fat lady on the front door, a tattooed man between the windows,
living skeletons on the blinds, and ladies insufficiently
clothed in all the vacant spaces and on the chimneys.
Nobody went by during the operation, and the agent remarked,
as he unhitched his horse, that he had never done a neater job.
"Why, they'll come as far to see your house as they will
to the circus!" he exclaimed.
"I calculate they will," said Charity, as she latched the gate
and started for Pleasant River.
I am not telling Charity Stover's story, so I will only add
that the bill-poster was mistaken in the nature of his paste,
and greatly undervalued its adhesive properties.
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