"Then ag'in, it 's ile in yer natur' keeps ye ca'm an' c'llected, an' it's ile in yer dispersition l'arns ye t' say, 'Moderation 's the rewl, even in passnips.'"
Lubricated with a sense of peace and blessing, I arose.
"Ye're jest like me," gurgled Captain Leezur; "ye don't feel easy in a cheer! Ye wanter be eout on the old log, don't ye?"
"Yes," said I. "This isn't quite like."
"We're nateral twin-brothers!" he exclaimed, following me to the door. There he looked cautiously backward.
"Dew you remember what I said to ye once," said he, "on the subject o' kile?"
"Ahem!—female affection?" I inquired gently. "Yes."
"Some calls it that," said my twin-brother, beaming on me, "and some calls it kile. Wal, neow, ef a sartin person shows a dispersition to kile, let 'em! Let 'em," said Captain Leezur, irradiating my thin being with the glory of his countenance; "let em."
"Ah," said I, and shook my head again sadly, "I think more and more we will have to go our pilgrimage without that, my friend."
"Neow you look a' here," said Captain Leezur. "I ain't a-sayin' nothin', that they will or that they won't, but if they dew, let 'em. Did ye ever think o' what a heap o' wisdom there is in a poor old bean-pole?