I hear the contract was fust let for stone butments, and then the same contractors persuaded the county commissioners, “by word of mouth or otherwise,” to let them put in them little iron tubes, and was paid the same pay as if they had put in stone butments. They dont do things that way down in Pennsylvania. My aunt Jane’s son Charles is a workin down there. He sent me a paper from his town, and here is the way they do it down in that State: “COURT WOULDN’T RELEASE THEM. “HOLLIDAYSBURG, PA., June 24.—The Blair County Court, this afternoon, declined to order the release from custody of County Commissioners John Hurd and James Funk on a writ of _habeas corpus_. The accused officials were required to furnish bail in three different prosecutions for malfeasance in office. The grand jury reported to court this afternoon that the two commissioners had unlawfully let two important bridge contracts to the Groton Bridge Company at a loss to the county of $1,490. The jury requested that the court interpose its power to prevent such loss.” You notice that it would be dangerful for county commissioners to let a bridge contract, like the Trenton bridge, contrary to law, without advertisin, if they were down in that State. Jobe hasent time to discuss this bridge question now, nor wont have till arter tax-borrowin time is over. He is bizzy. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXI. THE SERMON. I GUESS Jobe and me are goners. Jobe is nearly broken-hearted, and I feel kind a faint like. We will have to go to hell. Our preacher says so. Last Sunday Jobe wanted me to go to meetin. I said Ide go. So I jist put on that hat I got from Jane Summers, and the blue cambric dress I have wore now for some three years, and we hitched poor old crippled Tom to the spring wagon and we went. We tied Tom under a shade tree jist outside of town and walked in. They was singin when we got there. As we walked up the ile of that big Methodist church, crowded full of leadin men and women, they pinted and whispered and snickered at my straw hat and Jobe’s linen coat, with a muslin patch on the sleeve, till I was really ashamed of some of them. High-toned people _do_ sometimes act so silly that its shockin. Well, the preacher took a hard text to preach from. It was about Jesus tellin a young feller “to go sell all he had and give it to the poor.” I thought the preacher had his foot in it the minit he read that text. But then he got out of it in a way that cast a gloom over Jobe and me. He went on to explain that Jesus dident mean what he said; that he was jist a jokin with the feller. He said Jesus wanted to make a preacher out of the young man, and he told him that jist to try him; but when he told him to do that the young feller went off sorry and dident go to preachin. [Illustration: “They whispered and snickered at my straw hat and Jobe’s linen coat.”]