The character of Odysseus also brought out some family history from Geordie and Absalom. It appears that their grandfather, Old George Yonts, was a man noted in several ways, as a hard-shell preacher, as a wonderful nag-trader, and, like Odysseus, as a man of craft and guile in wars. Warring factions would come to him for advice; and his stratagems, when carried out, were brilliantly successful. The boys, with much pride, told some awful instances. They also said that all of his thirteen sons were "mean men," their own father having met death at too early an age to become as distinguished as the other twelve. As I listened, I marvelled, not that the "born trader's" morality is a little oblique, but that he has any at all. _Wednesday._ To-day I saw Philip hold out a handful of chestnuts to Taulbee, his bosom friend, with the words, "Don't take more'n five,--you're owing me now. You haint gone treat for allus!" Perfect candor is evidently the sure, if rocky, foundation of their relationship. _Saturday Night._ More family history as we were roasting sweet-potatoes in the hot ashes under our fire to-night. Iry said he could recollect roasting them while the men made his maw's coffin. "I never knowed no better," he said; "I weren't but three, and thought she was laying there asleep. I wondered what them men was a-hammering at outside. When I seed 'em take her off in it, I knowed." "She were the best step-maw ever I had," remarked Joab, feelingly. "How many have you had?" I inquired. "Oh, paw he's had about five women," he mused. "My maw first, and then Iry's, and there's three sence. Serildy Byng, his next-to-last, was a middling civil woman; but she never stayed long. This last one is just fifteen, and haint got no manners. I have to fight her most every day, she picks on me'n Iry so. Paw he has a sorry time learning her to behave." "I have heared something about your paw being right smart of a mean man," said Philip. "Bet he can't hold a candle to Blant," put in Nucky, jealously. "Maybe he can't, and maybe he can," drawled Joab, provokingly. "Nobody haint as quick on the trigger as Blant," declared Nucky; "I'll bet nobody haint kilt and wounded more inside a few months than him, or would have been in jail more times if the officers could have kotch him and helt him." "Jail," murmured Joab, contemptuously, "jail haint nothing! My paw's spent two year at Frankfort!" The boys all exclaimed in admiration. "Gee-oh," said Philip, with new respect, "I never knowed he'd been penitentiaried." "How many has he kilt?" inquired Nucky, skeptically. "Oh, no more'n he had to," drawled Joab. "I heared something about his killing off a few Lusks," said Taulbee.