The Works of Edgar Allan Poe - Volume 5


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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 any  
one 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 bank-notes:--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  
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