“Josiah, did you ever see so handsome a time?”
Josiah realized it; that man has a great eye for beauty. Though he don’t say so much as some men do, he feels the more. His eyes looked dreamy and sort o’ meditatin’, and his tones was low and gentle, as he replied to me:
“I hope they haint eat supper yet Samantha.”
Before I could answer him, a man come round the corner of the house, a walkin’ slowly along with his hands clasped under his coat-tails, and I knew the minute I sot eyes on him it was Uncle Zebulin Coffin. He was tall, and big boneded, but in dretful poor order; he had wintered bad, I knew. His face was from half to three-quarters of a yard in length. (I may not git the exact number of inches, never havin’ laid a yard stick to him, but I made a careless estimate in my mind, and have probable got it pretty near right.)
MEETIN’ THE DEACON.
He seemed lengthy everyway. His nose was long, and his chin was long, and his mouth was drawed down lengthways dretful long, and his vest was long, and his coat tails was long, and black as a coal his clothes was, every mite of ’em; his vest was buttoned up tight to his chin, and he had a black stock on that come up to his ears. His head was well lifted up, partly by the stock, and partly by dignity—about half-and-half I should judge; or come to think it over, there was probable more dignity than there was stock. He was awful dignified, and oh! how cold he looked. Why, when he come round the corner of the house and faced the west with his cold disapprovin’ eyes, I’ll be hanged if I didn’t think that he would freeze all the beauty and gladness out of the sky. And sure enough when I looked round, the sun had stopped laughin’ in a minute, and in order to hide himself from the Deacon (as it were) had begun to haul up over his shinin’ bed-clothes, a old faded out coverlet, grey as a rat; and a dark shadder was a fallin’ over all the brightness of the world.
When his eyes fell onto us, Josiah trembled imperceptably; but though cold shivers was a runnin’ over his back, he approached him—because he must—and I, not being one to desert my companion in the time of trouble, marched close by his side.
“How do you do, Uncle Zebulin,” and Josiah tried hard to smile. “We have come to see you.”
His face looked more dignified than ever, and several degrees colder. I declare it did seem as if Josiah’s whiskers must show signs of frost, if it kep’ on.