“Eight years come next Tuesday Jim Whiffles died. I didn’t need a second lesson—Lord A’mighty knows how hard it come to me onct! and I had loved Pamely right straight through. So, jest six months arter Jim was laid away I made a kind of an errant up to her house, and the very minnit I see her, it all came over me so I couldn’t help it, and I screeched right out:
“‘Pamely, hev me; do, fer goodness sake, say yes! Don’t you know I allers wanted ye?’
“She turned ’round, and her eyes was a-flashin’ when she answered:
“‘Allers? And lived in the same house nigh onto four years? You had first chance, and now you come whinin’ afore Jim’s cold.’
“I sneaked off. I thought the Lord was ag’in me this time, but I jest couldn’t give her up. I kep’ right on goin’. All the children one arter another, has married and done well, and she boosted ’em all.
“Last Sunday I was over there ag’in, and, somehow, I thought she kind o’ squeezed my hand at meetin’; so I swelled up, and says I, ‘Pamely, is Jim cold?’
“And she answered back, ‘Yes.’”
SOME ANTE-BELLUM LETTERS FROM A QUAKER GIRL.
Ninth Mo., 27th.
