As I said, they had gone to the depot to meet visitors from Delaware—a very distinguished cousin of Maggie’s on her own side, who had writ that he wuz a goin’ to pass through here on his way further South, and he would stop off a day or two with ’em—he and his little boy, if it wuz agreeable to them. I had hearn a sight about this rich Senator Coleman—Maggie’s father, old Squire Snow, wuz dretful proud of him. He had made himself mostly—or, that is, had finished himself off. He went to Delaware as a teacher, and married a Miss Fairfax, a very rich young woman down there, settled down in her home, went into business, got independent rich, wuz sent to Congress and Senate, and had a hand in makin’ all the laws of his State, so I hearn. He wuz now takin’ a tower through the Southern States with his motherless boy, little Raymond Fairfax Coleman, so he writ (he thought his eyes on him, and jest worshipped the memory of his wife). Maggie and Thomas J. had met him in Washington the winter before, and they sort o’ took to each other. And so he wuz a goin’ to stop off a few days with ’em. Wall, that program of Josiah Allen’s wuz carried out to the very letter. When Thomas J. and Maggie come back (the Senator didn’t come, he wuz delayed, and sent a telegram he should be there in a week or two), we sot off, a preparin’ to come back the next day if John Richard wuz better, but a layin’ out to stay several days if necessary. We took clothes and things, and I a not forgettin’, you may be sure, a bottle full of my far-famed spignut syrup. Maggie see that we had a early dinner but a good one, and we sot sail about one o’clock—Snow a ridin’ with us as fur as we dasted to take her, and a walkin’ back agin, watched by her Ma from the gate. Thomas J. and Maggie told us to bring John Richard right back with us if he wuz well enough to come, and they would help take care of him. Wall, we got to the picturesque little place called Howletts Bridge about four o’clock, and imegiatly made inquiries for the relation on his side, and found out where he wuz stayin’. He wuz boardin’ with a likely Methodist Episcopal couple, elderly, and poor but well-principled. And indeed we found him sick enough. Miss Elderkin—that wuz the folkses name he wuz a boardin’ with, good creeters as I ever see, if they wuz Southerners, and aristocratic too, brung down by loss of property and etc.—she told me that Cousin John Richard had been comin’ down with this lung difficulty for years—overwork, and hard fare, and neglect of his own comfort makin’ his sickness harder and more difficult to manage. Sez she, “He is one of the saints on earth, if there ever was one.” And her husband said the same thing, which I felt that I could indeed depend upon, for as a general thing men don’t get so diffuse a praisin’ up each other, and callin’ each other angels and saints, etc., and men hain’t drawed away by their pities and their sympathies so easy as wimmen be, nor drawed so fur.