“What is the matter, aunt Samantha?”
And I says,—
“Your poor uncle! your poor uncle!”
“What is the matter with him?” says she.
And I says, “He is crazy as a loon. Crazy and got a creek, and I must start for home the first thing in the mornin'.”
She says, “What do you mean?” and then I showed her the letter, and says as I did so,—
“He has had too much strain on his mind, for the size of it. His plans have been too deep. He has grappled with too many public questions. I ortn't to have left him alone with politics. But I left him for his good. But never, never, will I leave that beloved man agin, crazy, or no crazy, creek, or no creek.