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nydus/Short FictionPublic

A collection of Edgar Allan Poe’s short fiction, ordered by date of publication.

Page 506 of 1087
Table of Contents

Never Bet the Devil Your Head

vain. I entreated⁠—he smiled. I implored⁠—he laughed. I preached⁠—he sneered. I threatened⁠—he swore. I kicked him⁠—he called for the police. I pulled his nose⁠—he blew it, and offered to bet the Devil his head that I would not venture to try that experiment again.

Poverty was another vice which the peculiar physical deficiency of Dammit’s mother had entailed upon her son. He was detestably poor, and this was the reason, no doubt, that his expletive expressions about betting, seldom took a pecuniary turn. I will not be bound to say that I ever heard him make use of such a figure of speech as “I’ll bet you a dollar.” It was usually “I’ll bet you what you please,” or “I’ll bet you what you dare,” or “I’ll bet you a trifle,” or else, more significantly still, “ I’ll bet the Devil my head. ”

This latter form seemed to please him best;⁠—perhaps because it involved the least risk; for Dammit had become excessively parsimonious. Had anyone taken him up, his head was small, and thus his loss would have been small too. But these are my own reflections and I am by no means sure that I am right in attributing them to him. At all events the phrase in question grew daily in favor, notwithstanding the gross impropriety of a man betting his brains like banknotes⁠—but this was a point which my friend’s perversity of disposition would not permit him to comprehend. In the end, he abandoned all other forms of wager, and gave himself up to “ I’ll bet the Devil my head ,” with a pertinacity and exclusiveness of devotion that displeased not less than it surprised me. I am always displeased by circumstances for which I cannot account. Mysteries force a man to think, and so injure his health. The truth is, there was something in the air with which Mr. Dammit was wont to give utterance to his offensive expression⁠—something in his manner of enunciation⁠—which at first interested, and afterwards made me very uneasy⁠—something which, for want of a more definite term at present, I must be permitted to call queer ; but which Mr. Coleridge would have called mystical, Mr. Kant pantheistical, Mr. Carlyle twistical, and Mr. Emerson

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