“You have done a good job brother, some folks may call it pious gamblin’, but I never believed in it.” Whitfield Minkley come up at that very minute, and says he, “That is jest as I think,” says he, in the language of Shakespeare, “‘It is stealin’ the livery horses of heaven, to carry the devil out a ridin’” or mebby I hain’t got the very words, but it was somethin’ to that effect.
Says I, “I never knew that Shakespeare Bobbet ever turned his mind that way,” and then says I in a cordial way, “I am real glad you have got home Whitfield, I guess I am about as glad to see you as any body, unless it is your ma, and one or two others.”
He thanked me and said it seemed good to get home agin, and then says he, “I suppose Tirzah Ann is well.” His face as he said this was as red as his neck tie. But I didn’t seem to notice it. I talked with him quite a spell about her, and told him both the children would be to home Saturday, and he must come up then, for Thomas Jefferson would be awful disappointed not to see him.
He looked awful tickled when I asked him to come, and he said he should certainly come, for he never wanted to see Thomas Jefferson so bad, in his life.
I don’t make no matches, nor break none. But I hain’t a goin’ to deny, that sister Minkley and I have talked it over, and if things go on, as they seem to be a goin’ between her Whitfield and our Tirzah Ann, there won’t be no straws laid in their way, not a straw.
Whitfield was called off by one of his sisters, and Brother Wesley Minkley standin’ in front of me begun,
“Sister Allen, I am very much like you, I believe in actin’ up to our professions, and as I was about to remark in my twentiethly,” then that good, pure minded man begun agin jest where he left off. He had jest lifted up his left hand, and was pintin’ it off with his right fore finger, and I was jest thinkin’ that most likely I had got my night’s job in front of me, when unxpected the Editer of the Augur come to speak to me, and Brother Wesley Minkley bein’ a true gentleman, stopped preachin’ to once, and went to talkin’ to Josiah.
I looked sadly into the face of the Editer of the Augur, and sithed, for I knew that Betsey would soon begin to encourage him, and I pitied him.
He said “How de do?” to me, and I said in a absent minded way that “I was; and I hoped it was so with him.” And then I sithed agin. And my two gray eyes looked sadly into his’en (which was but’nut colored) for a spell, and then roamed off across the room onto Betsey. I seen her a fixin’ on her waterfall more securely, and a shakin’ out her greek bender, and tightnin’ her horse hair bracelets, and her lips moved as if she was beginnin’ to prey. And I knew he had got to be encouraged, and I felt for him.
The Editer of the Auger followed my mournful gaze, and I was surprised to see the change in his but’nut eye as it met hers, from what it had been in more former times preceedin’. For whereas he had always looked at her with fear and almost agonizin’ aprehension, as if he realized his danger, now he looked full in her face, as she smiled across the room at him, with a proud haughty and triumphant mene on him I could not understand. He gazed at her silently for I should think pretty near a half a minute and then he turned to me with a sweet, contented smile curvin’ his moustache—which had been colored a new bright black,—and says he to me with a peaceful and serene look on to Betsey,