JOHN’S METHOD OF TAKING A BATH
Catfish John apparently relied on the heavenly rains, when he got caught in them, to keep him clean, and on the golden sunshine that followed them to remove the traces of these involuntary and infrequent ablutions.
I doubt if he suspected the existence of soap. Such cleanliness as he possessed must have been in his heart, for it was invisible.
I once asked John to allow me to spend a day with him on one of his peddling trips to the village, and he cheerfully consented.
“I don’t git lonesome, but it ’ud be nice to have somebody ’long,” he said.
I was to meet him at five o’clock the following morning at Sipes’s place. I inwardly rebelled at the unseemly hour, but those who would derive the full measure of enjoyment with Catfish John must not be particular about hours.
I rowed along the shore, and was at the trysting place promptly. Fortunately I had a slight cold, and was thereby better enabled to resist some of the odors that I was likely to encounter during the day.
Sipes was dumfounded when I explained the object of the early visit.
“You cert’nly must be lookin’ fer trouble,” he declared; “if ye want to spend a day like that, why don’t ye go over an’ set quiet ’round ’is smokehouse, instid o’ bein’ bumped along on ’is honey cart all day?”