And finally I says, “Wall! it hain't happened for several thousand years, but I don't know what to think. We read of folks bein' translated up to heaven when they get too good for earth, and you know I have told you several times that he wus too clever for earth. I have thought he wus not of the earth, earthy.” “And I have thought,” says he, sort o' snappish, “that he wus of politics, politicky.” Says I, “Josiah Allen, I should be afraid, if I wus in your place, to talk in that way in such a time as this,” says I. “I have felt, when I see his actions when he wus knocked over by that sheep, and covered with lime, and sot fire to, I have felt as if we wus entertainin' a angel unawares.” “Yes,” says he, “it _wuz unawares_, entirely _unawares_ to me.” His axent wus dry, dry as chaff, and as full of ironry as a oven-door or flat-iron. “Wall,” says I, “mebby you will see the time, before the sun rises on your bald head again, that you will be sorry for such talk.” Says I, “If it wus one of the relation on your side, mebby you would talk different about him.” That touched him; and he snapped out,-- “What do you s'pose I care which side he wus on? And I should think it wus time to have a little sunthin' to eat: it must be three o'clock if it is a minute.” Says I, “Can you eat, Josiah Allen, in such a time as this?” “I could if I could _get_ any thing to eat,” says he; “but there don't seem to be much prospect of it.” Says I, “The best thing you can do, Josiah Allen, is to foller his tracks. The ground is kinder soft and spongy, and you can do it,” says I. “Where did he go to last from here?” “Down to Philander Daggets'es, to carry home his plow.” “That angel man!” says I. “That angel fool!” says Josiah. “Who asked him to go?” Says I, “When a man gets too good for earth, there is other ways to translate him besides chariots of fire. Who knows but what he has fell down in a fit! And do you go this minute, Josiah Allen, and foller his tracks!” “I sha'n't foller nobody's tracks, Samantha Allen, till I have sunthin' to eat.” I knew there wuzn't no use of reasonin' no further with him then; for when he said Samantha Allen in that axent, I knew he wus as sot as a hemlock post, and as hard to move as one. And so my common sense bein' so firm and solid, even in such a time as this, I reasoned it right out, he wouldn't stir till he had sunthin' to eat, and so the sooner I got his supper, the sooner he would go and foller Elburtus'es tracks. So I didn't spend no more strength a arguin', but kep' it to hurry up; and my reason is such, strong and vigorous and fur-seein', that I knew the better supper he had, the more animated would be his search. So I got a splendid supper, but quick. [Illustration: HUNTING FOR ELBURTUS.]