“I am glad it hain’t me that has to do the separatin’ between the good and the bad, for I shouldn’t know where to lay holt, appearances are so deceitful sometimes. Sheepskins are wore often over goats, and anon a sheep puts on the skin and horns of a goat to face the world in and fight with it. I shouldn’t know where to begin or leggo.”
“Wall, that is because you are a woman,” sez Josiah. “Wimmen never know where or how to lay holt of any hard work or head work. I could do it in a minute, and any man could that wuz used to horned cattle.”
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.”