Every thing on the farm wus prosperous. The children was well and happy; the babe beautiful, and growin' more lovely every day.
Ury had took his money, and bought a good little house and 4 acres of land in our neighborhood, and had took our farm for the next and ensuin' year. And they was happy and contented. And had expectations. They had (under my direction) took a tower together, and the memory of her lonely pilgrimage had seemed to pass from Philury's mind.
The boy wus a gettin' healthier all the time. And he behaved better and better, most all the time. I had limited him down to not ask over 50 questions on one subject, or from 50 to 60; and so we got along first-rate.
And we loved him. Why, there hain't no tellin' how we did love him. And he would talk so pretty about his ma! I had learned him to think that he would see her bime by, and that she loved him now jest as much as ever, and that she wanted him to be a good boy.
And he wuz a beautiful boy, if his chin wuz sort o' weak. He would try to tell the truth, and do as I would tell him to—and would, a good deal of the time. And he would tell his little prayers every night, and repeat lots of Scripture passages, and would ask more'n 100 questions about 'em, if I would let him.
There was one verse I made him repeat every night after he said his prayers: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”
And I always would say to him, earnest and deep, that his ma was pure in heart.
And he'd say, “Does she see God now?”
And I'd say, “Yes.”
And he would say, “When shall I see Him?”