Well, what wuz the poor little feller to do? Everything wuz new to him, he had so many things that he wanted to find out, what could he do? Wall, there wuz only one thing he could do, and that wuz to try to find ’em out for himself. Tamer Ann bein’ a good woman at the bottom of her heart (but the goodness bein’ all covered up with nonsense, dime novels, fancy distempers, etc.), she sent Jack to Sunday school.
And everything there wuz new to him. Tamer Ann had, I spoze, been willin’, but had never had the time to teach Jack the Bible. Havin’ so many heroines, pirates, etc., to drive along in front of her mind, she naterally hadn’t any room for the apostles and prophets. The procession of lovely bein’s and hoary villains wuz big, and the thoroughfare small (Tamer’s mind I mean). And when a woman is huntin’ round for new fancy distempers, what time has she to tell a child about the Babe of Bethlehem?
No, Jack didn’t know a thing about the Bible, and the female Sunday school teacher he went to wuz a Born Baptist, she wuzn’t as you may say a woman, a female citizen, or human bein’, she wuz jest Baptist, plain Baptist.
And so the food poor little Jack had put before him at that Sabbath school wuz hard, sound food. Good doctrine, but tough, fearful tough. Well, Jack accepted it jest as he did every new thing, and then, as his first move always wuz, he went to investigatin’ it himself.
She told him, with no explanation, that if any one prayed in faith their prayers would be answered. It wuz a new idee to Jack, and he wuz agitated over it. He asked his father that night if it wuz so, and told Hamen about the Lamb appearin’ to Abraham, and sez Jack:
“If I had faith would my prayers be answered?”
“Yes,” sez Hamen, “if you should pray to have it rain down candy, down it would come.”
Sez Jack, “Would the lamb appear?” That seemed to be uppermost in his mind.
“Yes,” sez Hamen, “the lamb would appear, and mebby a hull drove of ’em.”
And then Hamen looked at John and winked, and they both snickered, the fools! Well, Jack see that they wuz makin’ fun of him, and he kinder meached away with his mornin’ glory blue eyes most shot up. Poor little creeter! little, lonesome, abused creeter!