“I didn't have no idee of stoppin' votin'.”
Says I coldly, as cold as Zero, or pretty nigh as coldblooded as the old man,—
“Did you write that article jest for the speech of people? Didn't you have no principle to back it up?”
“Wall,” says he mournfully, “I wouldn't want it to get out of the family, but I'll tell you the truth. I didn't write it on a single principle, not a darn principle. I wrote it jest for popularity, and to make 'em fierce to promote me.”
I groaned aloud, and he groaned. It wus a sad and groanful time.
Says he, “I pinned my faith onto Letitia Lanfear. And I can't understand now, why a thing that made Letitia so populer, makes me a perfect outcast. Hain't we both human bein's—human Methodists and Jonesvillians?” Says he, in despairin', agonized tone, “I can't see through it.”
Says I soothenly, “Don't worry about that, Josiah, for nobody can. It is too deep a conundrum to be seen through: nobody has ever seen through it.”
But it seemed as if he couldn't be soothed; and agin he kinder sithed out,—
“I pinned my faith onto Letitia, and it has ondone me;” and he kinder whimpered.
But I says firmly, but gently,—