“They wus the weakest arguments for sprinklin’ that ever I heerd,” said another—a hot, red-faced, corpulent man—“and his sermon was two hours long, for when he stopped I looked at my watch. I thought it should be a lesson to me, for I couldn’t help going to sleep. Says I to Uncle John, says I—he sot next to me, and I whispered to him—says I, ‘When he gits to Bunker Hill, you wake me up,’ for I see he was bound to go clean back to the beginnin’ of things.”
“Uncle John is an Episcopalian, aint he?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there aint no religion in that, no how.”
“No, there aint.”
“Well now, you wouldn’t think it, but I’ve studied into religion a heap in my life.”
“Don’t seem to have done you much good.”
“No it aint, not yet, but I’ve studied into it, and I know what it is.”
“There aint but one way, Benny.”
“I know it.”