“This here Bill Duff is too absent-minded an’ forgetful for me,” sez I.
“What do ya mean?” sez the Friar.
“Well,” sez I, “I don’t want to make light o’ sacred things, nor nothin’ like that; but Bill Duff’s got somethin’ stored up in this room which should ’a’ been a funeral three weeks ago, and I intend to sleep outside.”
The Friar chuckled to himself until he shook the whole house; but it wasn’t no joke to me; so I shunted the beddin’ out on the roof o’ the porch, which was flat, and prepared to take my rest where the air was thin enough to flow into my nostrils without scrapin’ the lid off o’ what Horace called his ol’ factory nerve.
As soon as the Friar could recover his breath, he staggered to the window, an’ sez: “That’s nothin’ but cheese, you blame tenderfoot. Limburger cheese is the food Bill Duff is fondest of, and he has four boxes of it stored in this room.”
“Then,” sez I, comin’ in with the beddin’, “I’ll sleep in the bed, an’ the cheese can sleep on the porch; but hanged if I’ll occupy the same apartment with it.” I set the cheese out on the porch—it was the ripest cheese in the world, I reckon—and it drew all the dogs in town before mornin’. After they found it was above their reach, I’m convinced they put up the best fight I ever listened to.
It took a long time for the memory o’ that cheese to find its way out the window; and I lay thinkin’ o’ the Friar’s work, long after he had drifted off himself. He wasn’t squeamish about small things, the Friar wasn’t, and this was one of his main holts. When we had got ready to eat that night, Mrs. Duff had tipped Bill a wink to ask the Friar to say blessin’. Bill was in one of his vacant spells, as usual, so he looked solemn at the Friar, and sez: “It’s your deal, Parson.” Now, a lot o’ preachers would ’a’ gone blue an’ sour at that; but the Friar never blinked a winker.
Then after supper, all the young folks o’ that locality had swooped in to play with him. This winnin’ o’ young folks was a gift with the Friar, and it used to warm me up to watch him in the midst of a flock of ’em. He showed ’em all kinds o’ tricks with matches an’ arithmetic numbers, an’ taught ’em some new games, and then he put up a joke on ’em. He allus put up one joke on ’em each visit.
This time he puts a glass of water under his hat, looks solemn, and sez ’at he can drink the water without raisin’ the hat. They all bet he can’t, and finally he goes into a corner, makes motions with his throat, and sez he is now ready to prove it. Half a dozen rush forward and lift the hat, and he drinks the water, and thanks ’em for liftin’ the hat for him so he could drink the water an’ make his word good.
Some folks used to kick again’ him and say he was worldly; but his methods worked, an’ that’s a good enough test for me. He took out the shyness an’ the meanness an’ the stupidity, and gave the good parts a chance to grow; which I take it is no more again’ religion than the public school is. Why, he even taught ’em card tricks.