Thomas J. was readin’ a little to her out of a new book that come in a box of books the night before, and Maggie wuz a sewin’ on a little white dress for Boy. [Illustration: “A PERFECT DAGON.”] Cousin John Richard wuz partly a layin’ down on a bamboo couch with a lot of pillows to his back—he had had a dretful backache for a day or two. But he wuz a lookin’ some more comfortable than he had, and not quite so wan, but he wuz still fur wanner than I loved to see him. I myself wuz a knittin’ and occasionally a liftin’ my eyes to look over the path that led to the village, for my companion had walked down there to get a pair of new suspenders. I knew it wuzn’t time for him to get back yet; but such is woman’s love, I kep’ watch of the track on which I expected to see the beloved form approachin’ bimeby. That man is almost my idol. It hain’t right to worship a human creeter I know; and then agin, sometimes, when I would meditate on the wickedness of my bein’ so completely wrapped up in him, I have tried to exonerate myself by this thought: The children of Israel wuz commanded not to worship anything that wuz like anything else in heaven or on earth. And I have sometimes felt that I would get clear on that head if I knelt to him every day and burned incense under him, and made a perfect Dagon of him. For my dear companion is truly onlike anything I ever see or hearn on; his demeaners is different, and his acts and his talk under excitement. And his linement looks fur different from any other folks’es linements. But I am a digressin’, and to resoom. We sot there as happy as a nest full of turkle doves, when all of a sudden the girl come up with a card on a little silver server, and handed it to Maggie as if it wuz a cracker or a cup of tea, and Maggie took it and read out: “Colonel Seybert.” And Thomas J. spoke up and told the girl to ask the Colonel out there where we wuz; and so she did, and sot him a chair by Thomas J., out amongst the rose-vines. He come in as polite as ever, and accosted us all in a very genteel way. He had brought Maggie a great bunch of orchids, and said “the Madam had sent them to her with her compliments.” He meant his wife—he most always called her so. The posys he brought wuz very rare. They grow on air mostly, and only have the very slightest soil to connect ’em with the earth. And from all accounts (I thought to myself) that wuz the way that his angel of a wife lived herself. Almost all of the roots of her sweet nater wuz in heaven. Jest enough connection with this world so all could see the brightness and bloom and size of the divine flower of holiness that sprung up out of her lone, unhappy life. Maggie took the flowers and thanked him, and told him to tell Mrs. Seybert how much she prized her kind thoughtfulness, and how sorry she wuz to hear of her continued ill health. That woman, from all I hear, hain’t long for this world.