"I would not send 'em religious tracts, implorin' 'em to come to Christ's kingdom, packed in the same hamper with kegs of brandy, which the Bible and the tracts teach that those that use it are cursed, and that no drunkard can inherit the kingdom."
But, sez Krit, "The Bible they should have. And after they had mastered its simplest teachings, they should don their war-paint and feathers, and go out with it in their hands as missionaries to the white race, to try to teach them its plainest and simplest doctrines, of justice, and mercy, and love."
But at this very minute the cars tooted, and the two men seized their satchels, and after a sort of a short bow to Krit and the rest of us, they rushed offen the train.
I believe they wuz conscience-smut, but I don't know.
I believe they wuz conscience-smut, but I don't know.
When we arrove at the big depot at Chicago, the sun wuz jest a-drawin' up his curtains of gorgeous red, and yeller, and crimson, and wuz a-retirin' behind 'em to git a little needed rest.
The glorious counterpane wuz kinder heaped up in billowy richness on his western couch, but what I took to be the undersheet—a clear long fold of shinin' gold color—lay straight and smooth on the bottom of the gorgeous bed.
And the sun's face wuz just a-lookin' out above it, as if to say good-bye to Chicago, and trouble, and the World's Fair, and Josiah and me, as we sot our feet on terry firmy. (That is Latin that I have hearn Thomas J. use. Nobody need to be afraid of it; it is harmless. My boy wouldn't use a dangerous word.)