Only Krit's chains wuz wrought of linked love and blessedness instead of iron—so they say.
I've seen her picter; but good land! how can I tell who or what it is? It is pretty as a doll, and Krit seems to think his eyes on it; but he's so full of fun, I can't git any straight story out of him.
But Thomas Jefferson says she is a bonny fidy girl—a good one and a pretty one, and has got a father dretful well off; and he sez that she and Krit are engaged. So I spoze more'n like as not they be.
And I also learnt, through a letter received that very day, that Mr. Bolster has led Miss Plank to the altar, or she has led him—it don't make much difference. Anyway, she has walked offen the Plank of widowhood, and settled down onto a Bolster for life.
Mr. Bolster led Miss Plank to the altar.
I wuz glad on't. She wanted a companion, and he loves to converse, Heaven knows; and he is sure of one thing—he's almost certain, or as certain as we can be of anything in this life, that he will have the best pancakes that hands can make or spoons stir up.
I learnt also from her letter—Miss Bolster's, knee Plankses—that Nony Piddock wuz a-goin into the ministery. What a case for funerals he will be, and shockin' casualities! But he won't be good for much on a weddin' occasion.
And speakin' of weddin's brings me back to my subject agin.
No, it wuzn't any of these things that cast that mournful shadder on my eyebrows, anon, and even oftener, when I wuz out by myself—