it.  It was beautiful to hear that clock tick; and sometimes when one of these peddlers had been along and scoured her up and got her in good shape, she would start in and strike a hundred and fifty before she got tuckered out.  They wouldn't took any money for her. Well, there was a big outlandish parrot on each side of the clock, made out of something like chalk, and painted up gaudy.  By one of the parrots was a cat made of crockery, and a crockery dog by the other; and when you pressed down on them they squeaked, but didn't open their mouths nor look different nor interested.  They squeaked through underneath.  There was a couple of big wild-turkey-wing fans spread out behind those things.  On the table in the middle of the room was a kind of a lovely crockery basket that had apples and oranges and peaches and grapes piled up in it, which was much redder and yellower and prettier than real ones is, but they warn't real because you could see where pieces had got chipped off and showed the white chalk, or whatever it was, underneath. This table had a cover made out of beautiful oilcloth, with a red and blue spread-eagle painted on it, and a painted border all around.  It come all the way from Philadelphia, they said.  There was some books, too, piled up perfectly exact, on each corner of the table.  One was a big family Bible full of pictures.  One was Pilgrim's Progress, about a man that left his family, it didn't say why.  I read considerable in it now and then.  The statements was interesting, but tough.  Another was Friendship's Offering, full of beautiful stuff and poetry; but I didn't read the poetry.  Another was Henry Clay's Speeches, and another was Dr. Gunn's Family Medicine, which told you all about what to do if a body was sick or dead.  There was a hymn book, and a lot of other books.  And there was nice split-bottom chairs, and perfectly sound, too--not bagged down in the middle and busted, like an old basket. They had pictures hung on the walls-