“Right here,” sez he, and he took out his guide-book and pinted to the words—
“The long nave runs down through the centre.”
Sez I, “How do you spell your vile person, Josiah?”
“N-a-v-e, nave,” sez he—“the easiest way.”
I groaned, and sez I, “I would shet up that book, Josiah Allen, and go back to Webster’s old spellin’-book.”
He acted real pudgiky.
But Alice wanted to go into the North Chapel, where the short service for business men wuz a-goin’ on, it bein’ almost noon when we got there. It wuz a impressive sight to see these busy men takin’ a breathin’ space from the hard labors of the day to give thought to the Better Country and the best way to git there.
A beautiful sculptured head of the Christ looked down on these busy, careworn men, as if He wuz sorry for ’em and wanted to give ’em a breath of peace and love to go with ’em through the hot, feverish toils of the rest of the day.
After lookin’ up into the ineffible beauty and love of that face, it didn’t seem as if those grocers could put so much sand into their sugar and pepper, or the merchants pay so little to the poor wimmen who make the garments they sell.
But I d’no.