Pipes O'Pan At Zekesbury Part 9

"Where shall we land?" G.o.d's grace!

I know not any place So fair as this-- Swung here between the blue Of sea and sky, with you To ask me, with a kiss, "Where shall we land?"

AN OLD SETTLER'S STORY

William Williams his name was--or so he said;--Bill Williams they called him, and them 'at knowed him best called him Bill Bills.

The first I seed o' Bills was about two weeks after he got here. The Settlement wasn't nothin' but a baby in them days, far I mind 'at old Ezry Sturgiss had jist got his saw and griss-mill a-goin', and Bills had come along and claimed to know all about millin', and got a job with him; and millers in them times was wanted worse'n congerss-men, and I reckon got better wages; far afore Ezry built, ther wasn't a dust o' meal er flour to be had short o' the White Water, better'n sixty mild from here, the way we had to fetch it. And they used to come to Ezry's far ther grindin' as far as that; and one feller I knowed to come from what used to be the old South Fork, over eighty mild from here, and in the wettest, rainyest weather; and mud! _Law!_

Well, this-here Bills was a-workin' far Ezry at the time--part the time a-grindin', and part the time a-lookin' after the sawin', and gittin' out timber and the like. Bills was a queer-lookin' feller, sh.o.r.e! About as tall a build man as Tom Carter--but of course you don't know nothin' o' Tom Carter. A great big hulk of a feller, Tom was; and as far back as Fifty-eight used to make his brags that he could cut and put up his seven cord a day.

Well, what give Bills this queer look, as I was a-goin' on to say, was a great big ugly scar a-runnin' from the corner o' one eye clean down his face and neck, and I don't know how far down his breast--awful lookin'; and he never shaved, and ther wasn't a hair a-growin' in that scar, and it looked like a--some kind o' pizen snake er somepin' a crawlin' in the gra.s.s and weeds. I never seed sich a' out-an'-out onry-lookin' chap, and I'll never fergit the first time I set eyes on him.

Steve and me--Steve was my youngest brother; Steve's be'n in Californy now far, le' me see,--well, anyways, I reckon, over thirty year.--Steve was a-drivin' the team at the time--I allus let Steve drive; 'peared like Steve was made a-purpose far hosses. The beatin'est hand with hosses 'at ever you _did_ see-an'-I-know! W'y, a hoss, after he got kind o' used to Steve a-handlin' of him, would do anything far _him_! And I've knowed that boy to swap far hosses 'at cou'dn't hardly make a shadder; and, afore you knowed it, Steve would have 'em a-cavortin' around a-lookin' as peert and fat and slick!

Well, we'd come over to Ezry's far some grindin' that day; and Steve wanted to price some lumber far a house, intendin' to marry that Fall--and would a-married, I reckon, ef the girl hadn't a-died jist as she'd got her weddin' clothes done, and that set hard on Steve far awhile. Yit he rallied, you know, as a youngster will; but he never married, someway--never married. Reckon he never found no other woman he could love well enough, 'less it was--well, no odds.--The Good Bein's jedge o' what's best far each and all.

We lived _then_ about eight mild from Ezry's, and it tuck about a day to make the trip; so you kin kind o' git an idee o' how the roads was in them days.

Well, on the way over I noticed Steve was mighty quiet-like, but I didn't think nothin' of it, tel at last he says, says he, "Tom, I want you to kind o' keep an eye out far Ezry's new hand," meanin Bills. And then I kind o' suspicioned somepin' o' nother was up betwixt 'em; and sh.o.r.e enough ther was, as I found out afore the day was over.

I knowed 'at Bills was a mean sort of a man, from what I'd heerd. His name was all over the neighborhood afore he'd be'n here two weeks.

In the first place, he come in a suspicious sort o' way. Him and his wife, and a little baby only a few months old, come through in a kivvered wagon with a fambly a-goin' som'ers in The Illinoy; and they stopped at the mill, far some meal er somepin', and Bills got to talkin' with Ezry 'bout millin', and one thing o' nother, and said he was expeerenced some 'bout a mill hisse'f, and told Ezry ef he'd give him work he'd stop; said his wife and baby wasn't strong enough to stand trav'lin', and ef Ezry'd give him work he was ready to lick into it then and there; said his woman could pay her board by sewin' and the like, tel they got ahead a little; and then, ef he liked the neighberhood, he said he'd as leave settle there as anywheres; he was huntin' a home, he said, and the outlook kind o' struck him, and his woman railly needed rest, and wasn't strong enough to go much furder.

And old Ezry kind o' tuck pity on the feller; and havin' houseroom to spare, and railly in need of a good hand at the mill, he said all right; and so the feller stopped and the wagon druv ahead and left 'em; and they didn't have no things ner nothin'--not even a cyarpet-satchel, ner a st.i.tch o' clothes, on'y what they had on their backs. And I think it was the third er fourth day after Bills stopped 'at he whirped Tomps Burk, the bully o' here them days, tel you would n't a-knowed him!

Well, I'd heerd o' this, and the fact is I'd made up my mind 'at Bills was a bad stick, and the place was n't none the better far his bein'

here. But, as I was a-goin' on to say,--as Steve and me driv up to the mill, I ketched sight o' Bills the first thing, a-lookin' out o' where some boards was knocked off, jist over the worter-wheel; and he knowed Steve--I could see that by his face; and he hollered somepin', too, but what it was I couldn't jist make out, far the noise o' the wheel; but he looked to me as ef he'd hollered somepin' mean a-purpose so's Steve _wouldn't_ hear it, and _he'd_ have the consolation o' knowin'

'at he'd called Steve some onry name 'thout givin' him a chance to take it up. Steve was allus quiet like, but ef you raised his dander one't--and you could do that 'thout much trouble, callin' him names er somepin', particular' anything 'bout his mother. Steve loved his mother--allus loved his mother, and would fight far her at the drap o'

the hat. And he was her favo-_rite_--allus a-talkin' o' "her boy, Steven," as she used to call him, and so proud of him, and so keerful of him allus, when he 'd be sick er anything; nuss him like a baby, she would.

So when Bills hollered, Steve didn't pay no attention; and I said nothin', o' course, and didn't let on like I noticed him. So we druv round to the south side and hitched; and Steve 'lowed he'd better feed; so I left him with the hosses and went into the mill.

They was jist a-stoppin' far dinner. Most of 'em brought ther dinners--lived so far away, you know. The two Smith boys lived on what used to be the old Warrick farm, five er six mild, anyhow, from wher'

the mill stood. Great stout fellers, they was; and little Jake, the father of 'em, wasn't no man at all--not much bigger'n you, I rickon.

Le' me see, now:--Ther was Tomps Burk, Wade Elwood, and Joe and Ben Carter, and Wesley Morris, John c.o.ke--wiry little cuss, he was, afore he got his leg sawed off--and Ezry, and--Well, I don't jist mind all the boys--'s a long time ago, and I never was much of a hand far names.--Now, some folks'll hear a name and never fergit it, but I can't boast of a good ricollection, 'specially o' names; and far the last thirty year my mem'ry's be'n a-failin' me, ever sence a spell o'

fever 'at I brought on onc't--fever and rheumatiz together. You see, I went a-sainin' with a pa.s.sel o' the boys, fool-like, and let my clothes freeze on me a-comin' home. Wy, my breeches was like stove-pipes when I pulled 'em off. 'Ll, ef I didn't pay far that spree! Rheumatiz got a holt o' me and helt me there flat o' my back far eight weeks, and couldn't move hand er foot 'thout a-hollerin'

like a' Injun. And I'd a-be'n there yit, I reckon, ef it had n't a-be'n far a' old hoss-doctor, name o' Jones; and he gits a lot o' sod and steeps it in hot whisky and pops it on me, and I'll-be-switched-to-death ef it didn't cuore me up, far all I laughed and told him I'd better take the whisky inardly and let him keep the gra.s.s far his doctor bill. But that's nuther here ner there:--As I was a-saying 'bout the mill: As I went in, the boys had stopped work and was a-gittin' down ther dinners, and Bills amongst 'em, and old Ezry a-chattin' away--great hand, he was, far his joke, and allus a-cuttin'

up and a-gittin' off his odd-come-shorts on the boys. And that day he was in particular good humor. He'd brought some liquor down far the boys, and he'd be'n drinkin' a little hisse'f, enough to feel it. He didn't drink much--that is to say, he didn't git drunk adzactly; but he tuck his dram, you understand. You see, they made ther own whisky in them days, and it was n't nothin' like the bilin' stuff you git now. Old Ezry had a little still, and allus made his own whisky, enough far fambly use, and jist as puore as worter, and as harmless.

But now-a-days the liquor you git's rank pizen. They say they put tobacker in it, and strychnine, and the Lord knows what; ner I never knowed why, 'less it was to give it a richer-lookin' flavor, like.

Well, Ezry he 'd brought up a jug, and the boys had be'n a-takin' it purty free; I seed that as quick as I went in. And old Ezry called out to me to come and take some, the first thing. Told him I did n't b'lieve I keered about it; but nothin' would do but I must take a drink with the boys; and I was tired anyhow and I thought a little would n't hurt; so I takes a swig; and as I set the jug down Bills spoke up and says, "You're a stranger to me, and I'm a stranger to you, but I reckon we can drink to our better acquaintance," er somepin' to that amount, and poured out another snifter in a gourd he'd be'n a-drinkin' coffee in, and handed it to me. Well, I could n't well refuse, of course, so I says, "Here 's to us," and drunk her down--mighty nigh a half pint, I reckon. Now, I railly did n't want it, but, as I tell you, I was obleeged to take it, and I downed her at a swaller and never batted an eye, far, to tell the fact about it, I liked the taste o' liquor; and I do yit, only I know when I' got enough. Jist then I didn't want to drink on account o' Steve. Steve couldn't abide liquor in no shape ner form--far medicine ner nothin', and I 've allus thought it was his mother's doin's.

Now, a few months afore this I 'd be'n to Vincennes, and I was jist a-tellin' Ezry what they was a-astin' far ther liquor there--far I 'd fetched a couple o' gallon home with me 'at I 'd paid six bits far, and pore liquor at that: And I was a-tellin' about it, and old Ezry was a-sayin' what an oudacious figger that was, and how he could make money a-sellin' it far half that price, and was a-goin' on a-braggin'

about his liquor--and it was a good article--far new whisky,--and jist then Steve comes in, jist as Bills was a-sayin' 'at a man 'at wouldn't drink that whisky wasn't no man at all. So, of course, when they ast Steve to take some and he told 'em no, 'at he was much obleeged, Bills was kind o' tuck down, you understand, and had to say somepin'; and says he, "I reckon you ain't no better 'n the rest of us, and _we 've_ be'n a-drinkin' of it." But Steve did n't let on like he noticed Bills at all, and rech and shuck hands with the other boys and ast how they was all a-comin' on.

I seed Bills was riled, and more 'n likely wanted trouble; and sh.o.r.e enough, he went on to say, kind o' snarlin' like, 'at "he'd knowed o'

men in his day 'at had be'n licked far refusin' to drink when their betters ast 'em;" and said furder 'at "a lickin' wasn't none too good far anybody 'at would refuse liquor like that o' Ezry's, and in his own house too"--er _buildin'_, ruther. Ezry shuck his head at him, but I seed 'at Bills was bound far a quarrel, and I winks at Steve, as much as to say, "Don't you let him bully you; you'll find your brother here to see you have fair play!" _I_ was a-feelin' my oats some about then, and Steve seed I was, and looked so sorry like, and like his mother, 'at I jist thought, "I kin fight far you, and die far you, 'cause you're wuth it!"--And I didn't someway feel like it would amount to much ef I did die er git killed er somepin' on his account.

I seed Steve was mighty white around the mouth and his eyes was a glitterin' like a snake's; but Bills didn't seem to take warnin', but went on to say 'at he'd knowed boys 'at loved the'r mothers so well they couldn't drink nothin' stronger 'n milk.--And then you'd ort o'

seed Steve's coat fly off, jist like it wanted to git out of his way, and give the boy room accordin' to his stren'th. I seed Bills grab a piece o' scantlin' jist in time to ketch his arm as he struck at Steve,--far Steve was a-comin' far him dangerss. But they'd ketched Steve from behind jist then; and Bills turned far me. I seed him draw back, and I seed Steve a-scufflin' to ketch his arm; but he didn't reach it quite in time to do me no good. It must a-come awful suddent.

The first I ricollect was a roarin' and a buzzin' in my ears, and when I kind o' come a little better to, and crawled up and peeked over the saw-log I was a-layin' the other side of, I seed a couple clinched and a rollin' over and over, and a-makin' the chips and saw-dust fly, now I tell you! Bills and Steve it was--head and tail, tooth and toenail, and a-bleedin' like good fellers. I seed a gash o' some kind in Bills's head, and Steve was purty well tuckered, and a-pantin' like a lizard; and I made a rush in, and one o' the Carter boys grabbed me and told me to jist keep cool; 'at Steve didn't need no he'p, and they might need me to keep Bills's friends off ef they made a rush. By this time Steve had whirlt Bills, and was a-jist a-gittin' in a fair way to finish him up in good style, when Wesley Morris run in--I seed him do it--run in, and afore we could ketch him he struck Steve a deadener in the b.u.t.t o' the ear and knocked him as limber as a rag. And then Bills whirlt Steve and got him by the throat, and Ben Carter and me and old Ezry closed in--Carter tackled Morris, and Ezry and me grabs Bills--and as old Ezry grabbed him to pull him off, Bills kind o' give him a side swipe o' some kind and knocked him--I don't know how far!

And jist then Carter and Morris come a-scufflin' back'ards right amongst us, and Carter throwed him right acrost Bills and Steve. Well, it ain't fair, and I don't like to tell it, but I seed it was the last chance and I tuck advantage of it:--As Wesley and Ben fell it pulled Bills down in a kind o' twist, don't you understand, so's he couldn't he'p hisse'f, yit still a-clinchin' Steve by the throat, and him black in the face: Well, as they fell I grabbed up a little hick'ry limb, not bigger 'n my two thumbs, and I struck Bills a little tap kind o'

over the back of his head like, and blame me ef he didn't keel over like a stuck pig--and not any too soon, nuther, far he had Steve's chunk as nigh put out as you ever seed a man's, to come to agin. But he was up th'reckly and ready to a-went at it ef Bills could a-come to the scratch; but Mister Bills he wasn't in no fix to try it over!

After a-waitin' awhile far him to come to, and him not a-comin' to, we concluded 'at we'd better he'p him, maybe. And we worked with him, and washed him, and drenched him with whisky, but it 'peared like it wasn't no use: He jist laid there with his eyes about half shet, and a-breathin' like a hoss when he's bad sceart; and I'll be dad-limbed ef I don't believe he'd a-died on our hands ef it hadn't a-happened old Doc Zions come a-ridin' past on his way home from the Murdock neighberhood, where they was a-havin' sich a time with the milk-sick.

And he examined Bills, and had him laid on a plank and carried down to the house--'bout a mild, I reckon, from the mill. Looked kind o'

curous to see Steve a-heppin' pack the feller, after his nearly chokin' him to death. Oh, it was a b.l.o.o.d.y fight, I tell you! W'y, ther wasn't a man in the mill 'at didn't have a black eye er somepin'; and old Ezry, where Bills. .h.i.t him, had his nose broke, and was as b.l.o.o.d.y as a butcher. And you'd ort a-seed the women-folks when our p'session come a-bringin' Bills in. I never seed anybody take on like Bills's woman. It was distressin'; it was, indeed.--Went into hysterics, she did; and we thought far awhile she'd gone plum crazy, far she cried so pitiful over him, and called him "Charley! Charley!" 'stid of his right name, and went on, clean out of her head, tel she finally jist fainted clean away.

Far three weeks Bills laid betwixt life and death, and that woman set by him night and day, and tended him as patient as a' angel--and she was a' angel, too; and he'd a-never lived to bother n.o.body agin ef it hadn't a-be'n far Annie, as he called her. Zions said ther was a 'brazure of the--some kind o' p'tubernce, and ef he'd a-be'n struck jist a quarter of a' inch below--jist a quarter of a' inch--he'd a-be'n a dead man. And I've sence wished--not 'at I want the life of a human bein' to account far, on'y, well, no odds--I've sence wished 'at I had a-hit him jist a quarter of a' inch below!

Well, of course, them days ther wasn't no law o' no account, and nothin' was ever done about it. So Steve and me got our grindin', and talked the matter over with Ezry and the boys. Ezry said he was a-goin' to do all he could far Bills, 'cause he was a good hand, and when he wasn't drinkin' ther wasn't no peaceabler man in the settlement. I kind o' suspicioned what was up, but I said nothin'

then. And Ezry said furder, as we was about drivin' off, that Bills was a despert feller, and it was best to kind o' humor him a little.

"And you must kind o' be on your guard," he says, "and I'll watch him and ef anything happens 'at I git wind of I'll let you know," he says; and so we put out far home.

Mother tuck on awful about it. You see, she thought she'd be'h the whole blame of it, 'cause the Sunday afore that her and Steve had went to meetin', and they got there late, and the house was crowded, and Steve had ast Bills to give up his seat to Mother, and he wouldn't do it, and said somepin' 'at disturbed the prayin', and the preacher prayed 'at the feller 'at was a-makin' the disturbance might be forgive; and that riled Bills so he got up and left, and hung around till it broke up, so's he could git a chance at Steve to pick a fight.

And he did try it, and dared Steve and double-dared him far a fight, but Mother begged so hard 'at she kep' him out of it. Steve said 'at he'd a-told me all about it on the way to Ezry's, on'y he'd promised Mother, you know, not to say nothin' to me.

Ezry was over at our house about six weeks after the fight, appearantly as happy as you please. We ast him how him and Bills was a-makin' it, and he said firstrate; said 'at Bills was jist a-doin'

splendid; said he'd got moved in his new house 'at he'd fixed up far him, and ever'thing was a-goin' on as smooth as could be; and Bills and the boys was on better terms 'n ever; and says he, "As far as you and Steve 's concerned, Bills don't 'pear to bear you no ill feelin's, and says as far as he 's concerned the thing 's settled." "Well," says I, "Ezry, I hope so; but I can't he'p but think ther 's somepin' at the bottom of all this;" and says I, "I do n't think it's in Bills to ever amount to anything good;" and says I, "It's my opinion ther 's a dog in the well, and now you mark it!"

Well, he said he _wasn't_ jist easy, but maybe he 'd come out all right; said he couldn't turn the feller off--he hadn't the heart to do that, with that-air pore, dilicate woman o' his, and the baby. And then he went on to tell what a smart sort o' woman Bills's wife was,--one of the nicest little women he 'd ever laid eyes on, said she was; said she was the kindest thing, and the sweetest-tempered, and all--and the handiest woman 'bout the house, and 'bout sewin', and cookin', and the like, and all kinds o' housework; and so good to the childern, and all; and how they all got along so well; and how proud she was of her baby, and allus a-goin' on about it and a-cryin' over it and a-carryin' on, and wouldn't leave it out of her sight a minute.

And Ezry said 'at she could write so purty, and made sich purty pictures far the childern; and how they all liked her better'n ther own mother. And, sence she'd moved, he said it seemed so lonesome like 'thout _her_ about the house--like they'd lost one o' ther own fambly; said they didn't git to see her much now, on'y sometimes, when her man would be at work, she'd run over far awhile, and kiss all the childern and women-folks about the place,--the greatest hand far the childern, she was; tell 'em all sorts o'little stories, you know, and sing far 'em; said 'at she could sing so sweet-like,'at time and time agin she'd break clean down in some song o'nuther, and her voice would trimble so mournful-like 'at you'd find yourse'f a-cryin' afore you knowed it. And she used to coax Ezry's woman to let her take the childern home with her; and they used to allus want to go, 'tel Bills come onc't while they was there, and they said he got to jawin' her far a-makin' some to-do over the baby, and swore at her and tuck it away from her and whipped it far cryin', and she cried and told him to whip her and not little Annie, and he said that was jist what he was a-doin'. And the childern was allus afear'd to go there any more after that--'fear'd he'd come home and whip little Annie agin. Ezry said he jist done that to skeer 'em away--'cause he didn't want a pa.s.sel o'

childern a-whoopin' and a-howlin' and a-trackin' 'round the house all the time.

But, sh.o.r.e enough, Bills, after the fight, 'peared like he 'd settled down, and went 'bout his business so stiddy-like, and worked so well, the neighbors begin to think he was all right after all, and railly _some_ got to _likin'_ him. But far me, well, I was a leetle slow to argy 'at the feller wasn't "a-possumin'." But the next time I went over to the mill--and Steve went with me--old Ezry come and met us, and said 'at Bills didn't have no hard feelin's ef _we_ didn't, and 'at he wanted us to fergive him; said 'at Bills wanted him to tell us 'at he was sorry the way he'd acted, and wanted us to fergive him.

Well, I looked at Ezry, and we both looked at him, jist perfectly tuck back--the idee o' Bills a-wantin' anybody to fergive him! And says I, "Ezry, what in the name o' common sense do you mean?" And says he, "I mean jist what I say; Bills jined meetin' last night and had 'em all a-prayin' far him; and we all had _a glorious time_," says old Ezry; "and his woman was there and jined, too, and prayed and shouted and tuck on to beat all; and Bills got up and spoke and give in his experience, and said he'd be'n a bad man, but, glory to G.o.d, them times was past and gone; said 'at he wanted all of 'em to pray far him, and he wanted to prove faithful, and wanted all his inemies to fergive him; and prayed 'at you and Steve and your folks would fergive him, and ever'body 'at he ever wronged anyway." And old Ezry was a-goin' on, and his eyes a-sparklin', and a-rubbin' his hands, he was so excited and tickled over it, 'at Steve and me we jist stood there a-gawkin' like, tel Bills hisse'f come up and rech out one hand to Steve and one to me; and Steve shuck with him kind o' oneasy like, and I--well, sir, I never felt cur'oser in my born days than I did that minute. The cold chills crep' over me, and I shuck as ef I had the agur, and I folded my hands behind me and I looked that feller square in the eye, and I tried to speak three or four times afore I could make it, and when I did, my voice wasn't natchurl--sounded like a feller a-whisperin' through a tin horn er somepin'.--and I says, says I, "You're a liar," slow and delibert. That was all. His eyes blazed a minute, and drapped; and he turned, 'thout a word, and walked off. And Ezry says, "He's in airnest; I know he's in airnest, er he'd a-never a-tuck that!" And so he went on, tel finally Steve jined in, and betwixt 'em they p'suaded me 'at I was in the wrong and the best thing to do was to make it all up, which I finally did. And Bills said 'at he'd a-never a-felt jist right 'thout _my_ friendship, far he'd wronged me, he said, and he'd wronged Steve and Mother, too, and he wanted a chance, he said, o' makin' things straight agin.

Well, a-goin' home, I don't think Steve and me talked o' nothin' else but Bills--how airnest the feller acted 'bout it, and how, ef he _wasn't_ in airnest he'd a-never a-swallered that 'lie,' you see.

That's what walked my log, far he could a-jist as easy a-knocked me higher 'n Kilgore's kite as he could to walk away 'thout a-doin' of it.

Mother was awful tickled when she heerd about it, far she'd had an idee 'at we'd have trouble afore we got back, and a-gitten home safe, and a-bringin' the news 'bout Bills a-jinin' church and all, tickled her so 'at she mighty nigh shouted far joy. You see, Mother was a' old church-member all her life; and I don't think she ever missed a sermont er a prayer-meetin' 'at she could possibly git to--rain er shine, wet er dry. When ther was a meetin' of any kind a-goin' on, go she would, and nothin' short o' sickness in the fambly, er knowin'

nothin' of it would stop _her_! And clean up to her dyin' day she was a G.o.d-fearin' and consistent Christian ef ther ever was one. I mind now when she was tuck with her last spell and laid bedfast far eighteen months, she used to tell the preacher, when he 'd come to see her and pray and go on, 'at she could die happy ef she could on'y be with 'em all agin in their love-feasts and revivals. She was purty low then, and had be'n a-failin' fast far a day er two; and that day they'd be'n a-holdin' service at the house. It was her request, you know, and the neighbers had congergated and was a-prayin' and a-singin' her favorite hymns--one in p'tickler, "G.o.d moves in a mysterous way his wunders to p'form," and 'bout his "Walkin' on the sea and a-ridin' of the storm."--Well, anyway, they'd be'n a-singin'

that hymn far her--she used to sing that 'n so much, I ricollect as far back as I kin remember; and I mind how it used to make me feel so lonesome-like and solemn, don't you know,--when I'd be a-knockin'

round the place along of evenin's, and she'd be a-milkin', and I'd hear her, at my feedin', way off by myse'f, and it allus somehow made me feel like a feller'd ort o' try and live as nigh right as the law allows, and that's about my doctern yit. Well, as I was a-goin' on to say, they'd jist finished that old hymn, and Granny Lowry was jist a-goin to lead in prayer, when I noticed mother kind o' tried to turn herse'f in bed, and smiled so weak and faint-like, and looked at me, with her lips a-kind o' movin'; and I thought maybe she wanted another dos't of her syrup 'at Ezry's woman had fixed up far her, and I kind o' stooped down over her and ast her if she wanted anything. "Yes,"

she says, and nodded, and her voice sounded so low and solemn and so far away-like 'at I knowed she'd never take no more medicine on this airth. And I tried to ast her what it was she wanted, but I couldn't say nothin'; my throat hurt me, and I felt the warm tears a-boolgin'

up, and her kind old face a-glimmerin' a-way so pale-like afore my eyes, and still a-smilin' up so lovin' and forgivin' and so good 'at it made me think so far back in the past I seemed to be a little boy agin; and seemed like her thin gray hair was brown, and a-shinin' in the sun as it used to do when she helt me on her shoulder in the open door, when Father was a-livin' and we used to go to meet him at the bars; seemed like her face was young agin, and a-smilin' like it allus used to be, and her eyes as full o' hope and happiness as afore they ever looked on grief er ever shed a tear. And I thought of all the trouble they had saw on my account, and of all the lovin' words her lips had said, and of all the thousand things her pore old hands had done far me 'at I never even thanked her far; and how I loved her better 'n all the world besides, and would be so lonesome ef she went away--Lord! I can't tell you what I didn't think and feel and see. And I knelt down by her, and she whispered then far Steven, and he come, and we kissed her--and she died--a smilin' like a child--jist like a child.

Well--well! 'Pears like I'm allus a-runnin' into somepin' else. I wisht I could tell a story 'thout driftin' off in matters 'at hain't no livin' thing to do with what I started out with. I try to keep from thinkin' of afflictions and the like, 'cause sich is bound to come to the best of us; but a feller's ricollection will bring 'em up, and I reckon it'd ort 'o be er it wouldn't be; and I've thought, sometimes, it was done may be to kind o' admonish a feller, as the Good Book says, of how good a world 'd be 'thout no sorrow in it.

Where was I? Oh, yes, I ricollect;--about Bills a-jinin' church. Well, sir, ther' wasn't a better-actin' feller and more religious-like in all the neighberhood. Spoke in meetin's, he did, and tuck a' active part in all religious doin's, and, in fact, was jist as square a man, appearantly, as the preacher hisse'f. And about six er eight weeks after he'd jined, they got up another revival, and things run high.

Ther' was a big excitement, and ever'body was a'tendin' from far and near. Bills and Ezry got the mill-hands to go, and didn't talk o'

nothin' but religion. People thought awhile 'at old Ezry 'd turn preacher, he got so interested 'bout church matters. He was easy excited 'bout anything; and when he went into a thing it was in dead earnest, sh.o.r.e!--"jist flew off the handle," as I heerd a comical feller git off onct. And him and Bills was up and at it ever'

night--prayin' and shoutin' at the top o' the'r voice. Them railly did seem like good times--when ever'body jined together, and prayed and shouted ho-sanner, and danced around together, and hugged each other like they was so full o' glory they jist couldn't he'p theirse'v's--that's the reason I jined; it looked so kind o'

whole-souled-like and good, you understand. But la! I didn't hold out on'y far a little while, and no wunder!