“'Oh, you shet up!' says Hokum, says he. 'You never hasted to any thing,' says he. Ye see, he was riled, that's why he spoke so.” “Sam,” said we, after maturely reflecting over the story, “what do you suppose was in that pot?” “Lordy massy! boys: ye never will be done askin' questions. Why, how should I know?” “MIS' ELDERKIN'S PITCHER.” [Illustration: 9146] E see, boys,” said Sam Lawson, as we were gathering young wintergreen on a sunny hillside in June,--“ye see, folks don't allers know what their marcies is when they sees 'em. Folks is kind o' blinded; and, when a providence comes along, they don't seem to know how to take it, and they growl and grumble about what turns out the best things that ever happened to 'em in their lives. It's like Mis' Elderkin's pitcher.” “What about Mis' Elderkin's pitcher?” said both of us in one breath. “Didn't I never tell ye, now?” said Sam: “why, I wanter know?” No, we were sure he never had told us; and Sam as usual, began clearing the ground by a thorough introduction, with statistical expositions. “Wal, ye see, Mis' Elderkin she lives now over to Sherburne in about the handsomest house in Sherburne,--a high white house, with green blinds and white pillars in front,--and she rides out in her own kerridge; and Mr. Elderkin, he's a deakin in the church, and a colonel in the malitia, and a s'lectman, and pretty much atop every thing there is goin' in Sherburne, and it all come of that 'are pitcher.” “What pitcher?” we shouted in chorus. “Lordy massy! that 'are's jest what I'm a goin' to tell you about; but, ye see, a feller's jest got to make a beginnin' to all things. “Mis' Elderkin she thinks she's a gret lady nowadays, I s'pose; but I 'member when she was Miry Brown over here'n Oldtown, and I used to be waitin' on her to singing-school. “Miry and I was putty good friends along in them days,--we was putty consid'able kind o' intimate. Fact is, boys, there was times in them days when I thought whether or no I wouldn't _take_ Miry myself,” said Sam, his face growing luminous with the pleasing idea of his former masculine attractions and privileges. “Yis,” he continued, “there was a time when folks said I could a hed Miry ef I'd asked her; and I putty much think so myself, but I didn't say nothin': marriage is allers kind o'ventursome; an' Miry had such up-and-down kind o' ways, I was sort o' fraid on't. “But Lordy massy! boys, you mustn't never tell Hepsy I said so, 'cause she'd be mad enough to bite a shingle-nail in two. Not that she sets so very gret by me neither; but then women's backs is allers up ef they think anybody else could a hed you, whether they want you themselves or not. “Ye see, Miry she was old Black Hoss John Brown's da'ter, and lived up there in that 'are big brown house by the meetin'-house, that 'hes the red hollyhock in the front yard. Miry was about the handsomest gal that went into the singers' seat a Sunday.