Democratic Sentinel, Volume 2, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 March 1878 — Tight Boots. [ARTICLE]

Tight Boots.

I had on new shoes. They were number seven when I started, but were no more than fives now, and still diminishing. I walked two hours in those shoes after that before we reached home. Doubtless I could have the reader’s sympathy for the asking. Many people have never had the headache or the toothache, and I am one of those myself; but everybody has worn tight shoes for two or three hours, and know the luxury of taking them off in a retired place and seeing his feet swell up and obscure the firmament. Few of us will ever forget the exquisite hour we were married. Once, when I was a callow, bashful cub, I took a plain, unsentimental girl to a comedy one night. I had known her a day; she seemed divine; I wore my new boots. At the end of the first half hour she said, “ Why do you fidget so with your feet?” I said, “Do I?” Then I put my attention there and kept still. At the end of another half hour she said, “Why do you say, ‘Yes, oh, yes,’ and ‘ Ho, ah, certainly, very true !’ to everything I say. when half the time they are irrelevant answers ?” I blushed and explained that I had been a little absentminded. At the end of another half hour she said, “Please, why do you gaze steadfastly at vacancy and yet look so sad?” I explained that I always did when I was reflecting. An hour passed, and then she turned and contemplated me with her earnest eyes, and said, “Why do you cry all the time?” I explained that very funny comedies always made me cry. At last human nature surrendered, and I secretly slipped my boots off. This was a mistake; I was not able to get them on any more. It was a rainy night, there were no omnibuses going our way, and as I walked home, burning up with shame, -with the girl on one arm and my boots under the other, I was an object worthy of some compassion, especially in those moments of martyrdom when I had to pass through the glare that fell upon the pavement from street lamps. Finally this child of the forest said, “Where are your boots?” and, being taken unprepared, I put a fitting finish to the follies of the evening with the stupid remark, “The higher classes do not wear them to the theater.” —Mark Twain.