"I believe you, Samuel; for he is deaf as a tombstone."
"Tell you what to do for him! I know a fellow in Smith's Valley will cure him in a minute. That fellow has cleaned the deafness all out of Washington County a dozen times. I never knew a case of it that could stand up against him ten seconds. Take three parts of snake-root to a gallon of waggon-grease, and—I'll go and see if I can find the prescription!"
And Sam was off like a rocket.
MAUD'S PAPA.
That is she in the old black silk—the one with the gimlet curls and the accelerated lap-cat. Doesn't she average about as I set her forth?
"Never told you anything about her?" Well, I will.
Twenty years ago, many a young man, of otherwise good character, would have ameliorated his condition for that girl; and would have thought himself overpaid if she had restored a fosy on his sepulchre. Maud would have been of the same opinion—and wouldn't have construed the fosy. And she was the most sagacious girl I ever experienced! As you shall hear.
I was her lover, and she was mine. We loved ourselves to detraction. Maud lived a mile from any other house—except one brick barn. Not even a watch-dog about the place—except her father. This pompous old weakling hated me boisterously; he said I was dedicated to hard drink, and when in that condition was perfectly incompatible. I did not like him, too.