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Twain, Mark, 1835-1910

"A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court"

Yes,
they changed my twenty, but I judged it strained the bank a little,
which was a thing to be expected, for it was the same as walking
into a paltry village store in the nineteenth century and requiring
the boss of it to change a two thousand-dollar bill for you all
of a sudden. He could do it, maybe; but at the same time he
would wonder how a small farmer happened to be carrying so much
money around in his pocket; which was probably this goldsmith's
thought, too; for he followed me to the door and stood there gazing
after me with reverent admiration.
Our new money was not only handsomely circulating, but its language
was already glibly in use; that is to say, people had dropped
the names of the former moneys, and spoke of things as being worth
so many dollars or cents or mills or milrays now. It was very
gratifying. We were progressing, that was sure.
I got to know several master mechanics, but about the most interesting
fellow among them was the blacksmith, Dowley. He was a live man
and a brisk talker, and had two journeymen and three apprentices,
and was doing a raging business. In fact, he was getting rich,
hand over fist, and was vastly respected. Marco was very proud of
having such a man for a friend. He had taken me there ostensibly
to let me see the big establishment which bought so much of his
charcoal, but really to let me see what easy and almost familiar
terms he was on with this great man.


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