I sithed and thought to myself the thought I had entertained more or less ever sence I stood up with Josiah Allen at the altar. How different, how different my pardner and I looked on some things, and how impossible it wuz seemingly for us to ever get the same view on ’em.
But I didn’t multiply any more words with him, knowin’ it wouldn’t be of any use; and then agin, as I looked clost at him, I see a shade of serious pensiveness, and even sadness, as it were, a shadin’ down onto his eyebrow.
And my talk didn’t seem to lighten it any as I went on and told him that they said that this custom of dividin’, as it were, the sheep and the goats wuz practised a good deal in different parts of the South.
But I still see the shadowy shade on his foretop, and went on more cheerful, and told him that the little boy Abe wuz goin’ to be took into the family of the good colored preacher, so he wuz sure of a good home and good treatment.
But in vain wuz all my cheerful perambulations of conversation. I see that he looked demute, and broodin’ over some idee; and finally he spoke out:
“Samantha, goin’ to funerals, or hearin’ about ’em, puts folks to thinkin’.”
“Yes, it duz, Josiah;” and sez I, in quite a solemn axent, “it stands us all in hand to be prepared.”
ABE.
Sez he, “I wuzn’t thinkin’ of that side of the subject, Samantha; but it brings back to me that old thought and fear that has been growin’ on me for years more or less. Samantha,” sez he, “I worry, and have worried for years, for fear that you will some time be left a relict with nuthin’ to lean on.”