"Yes," I said. "Who are you? I don't seem to know you in the dark."
"No, ma'am, you don' know me, but I knows you well. I'se Rastimus en dis is my fren' Joshuay."
"Well, Rastimus, I want you and Joshua to fix my harness for me. I've had an accident and I can't manage it at all myself. Have you a knife to cut a hole in the trace, because we can do nothing without that?"
"Yes, my missus; I got a very shaa'p knife, en don't you worry, me en Joshuay'll hab um fix korrek, fo' yu knows it."
And true enough, though their motions were very unsteady and the air was redolent of firewater, in very quick time the harness was tied up in an ingenious and substantial way. Then I asked for the loan of the lantern. This they hesitated about, but when I gave my word that it should be sent to the store the next day with a little note of thanks and an enclosure for each, they consented, and I went on my way with songs of praise and thanksgiving in my heart for the many and varied dangers I had escaped. The next day the lantern was duly returned, with a quarter apiece for my knights-errant.
December 31.
Spent this last day of the old year writing letters of thanks and affection, and after dark I made up a bright fire, Chloe and Patty Ann having gone away on their Sunday outing, and sat in the firelight without lighting the lamps and reviewed the mercies and blessings of the past year. God forgive me for my mistakes and sins therein, my blindnesses and lost opportunities.
I keep wondering if it is His will that I should give up this life. I do not want to be headstrong about it. I have so loved the freedom and simplicity of the life, in spite of its trials, and isolation. The living close to Nature—the trees, the birds, the clouds, and all the simple loving dumb things.
