He wuzn’t afraid to die—no, indeed! There wuz a deep, sweet smile in his eyes, and his lips seemed to hold some happy and divine secret as he sez:
“I am glad to go home; I am glad to rest.”
But I sez in a cheerful axent, “Cousin John Richard, you hain’t a goin’ to die;” sez I, “By the help of God and my good spignut syrup I believe you will be brung up agin.”
But he shet up his eyes. And I see plain, by the look of his face, that though he wuz willin’ to live and work if it wuz God’s will, he wuz still more ready to depart and be with Christ, which he felt would be fur better.
But it wuzn’t my way to stand and argue with a sick man back and forth as to whether he wuz a goin’ to die or not.
“BOY LAUGHED.”
No, I laid to, helped by my trusty Josiah. And in an hour’s time we see a difference in his breathin’, and anon he fell into a sweet sleep.
And when he waked up that man looked and acted better. And three days and nights did we stay by him, a doctorin’ him up and a gettin’ him nourishin’ things to eat, and a talkin’ encouragin’ and pleasant things to him (good land! the soul and mind has got to be fed as well as the body if you don’t want to starve to death inwardly). And lo and behold! when we left Howletts Bridge and returned to Belle Fanchon, who should accompany us thither but Cousin John Richard Allen!
He had consented, after a deep parley, to go there and rest off for a few weeks.