Pulp Fiction, 1867 · page 14 of 100
Beadle's Dime Novels No. 120: The Hunchback — page 14: what you’re looking at
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16 ’ HE HUNCHBACK. CHAPTER II. CASPAR DECKER’S STORY. Tan hunchback’ drew a chair near the dying flame, and sat down. His face was contracted -by an expression which had in it something of sorrow and something of pain. Per- haps it pained him to tell his sad history to one of a race who had injured him deeply. But he conquered his repug- nance, and began the tale. “You wonder to see me here,” he said, “ an outcast, living — alone in this wild region, in hourly danger from the knives#of the savages. But, I have no fear of what men can do to me. It would be sweet to die. When this unloyely casket which Heaven has given me to keep my soul in, shall be laid to rest, I shall not know sorrow more. I have sometimes wondered whether this misshapen trunk of mine could indeed rest in peace, and I have concluded that it will The earth, from whose breast I was taken, will be a kind mother to me, and wrap me as softly and keep me as warm as any six-foot handsome youth, who will fall upon gory battle-fields in this war for liberty. Well, I waste time, when , should be telling you my story. : “Tt does not matter where I was born, or in what state my early years were passed. It is enough that I had a mother, who loved me, undigested lump of humanity that I was. But, she died early, and I wandered out into the world, rich, but trodden down. There were men who pretended to love me for myself, who only sought the good which money can give. Idid not mind that. I would have given any thing for friendship, even though it were bought with a price, “Among the hosts who sat at my table, drank my wine, : and ate my food, not one loved me for myself. But I was happy enough in the thought that I had wealth enough to purchase friends. Boy, in your after life, trust no man! Old Timon of Athens did well, but of all mankind, he trusted one. I trust none, no, not one. COmMicbOokxs.conn