She said,—"It is in the Bible; I've seen it."
"Well, how do you spell it?"
"I don't know. A c h, ach, s e h, seh,—Achseh."
"Does that spell Axy? Well, do you know what it means?" asked he, turning to me.
"No," I replied,—"I never heard the sound before."
"There was a schoolmaster down here once, and they asked him what it meant, and he said it had no more meaning than a bean-pole."
I told him that I held the same opinion with the schoolmaster. I had been a schoolmaster myself, and had had strange names to deal with. I also heard of such names as Zoheth, Beriah, Amaziah, Bethuel, and Shearjashub, hereabouts.
At length the little boy, who had a seat quite in the chimney-corner, took off his stockings and shoes, warmed his feet, and went off to bed; then the fool followed him; and finally the old man. He proceeded to make preparations for retiring, discoursing meanwhile with Panurgic plainness of speech on the ills to which old humanity is subject. We were a rare haul for him. He could commonly get none but ministers to talk to, though sometimes ten of them at once, and he was glad to meet some of the laity at leisure. The evening was not long enough for him. As I had been sick, the old lady asked if I would not go to bed,—it was getting late for old people; but the old man, who had not yet done his stories, said,—
"You a'n't particular, are you?"
"Oh, no," said I,—"I am in no hurry. I believe I have weathered the Clam cape."