“Besides, it’s kinder discouragin’ to lend to a feller that gets tight a good deal--gets tight sometimes, anyhow; it’s hard enough to get paid by folks that always keep straight.” As Tappelmine could say nothing to controvert this proposition, he continued to look sullen, and Father Baguss, finding the silence insupportably annoying, said rather more than he had intended to say. There are natures which, while containing noble qualities, are most awkward expositors of themselves, and that of Baguss was one of this sort. Such people are given to action which is open to criticism on every side; yet, in spite of their awkwardnesses, they find in their weakness the source of whatever strength they discover themselves to be possessed of. Father Baguss was one of this special division of humanity; but--perhaps for his own good--he was unconscious of his strength and painfully observant of his weakness. Yet he continued as follows: “Look here, Tappelmine, I came over here on purpose to find out if I could do anything to help you get into better habits. You don’t amount to a row of pins as things are now, and I don’t like it; it’s throwed up to me, because I’m your neighbor, and there’s folks that stick to it that _I’m_ to blame. I don’t see how; but if there’s any cross layin’ around that fits my shoulders, I s’pose I ought to pick it up an’ pack it along. Now, why in creation don’t you give up drinkin,’ an’ go to church, an’ make a crop, an’ do other things like decent folks do? You’re bigger’n I am, an’ stouter, an’ your farm’s as good as mine if you’d only work it. Now why you don’t do it, I don’t see.” “Don’t, eh?” snarled Tappelmine, dropping his axe, and leaning against the house with folded hands. “Well, ’cause I hain’t got any plow, nor any harrow, nor but one hoss, nor rails enough to keep out cattle, nor seed-corn or wheat, nor money to buy it with, nor anything to live on until the crop’s made, nor anything to prevent the crop when it’s made from being grabbed by whoever I owe money to; _that’s_ why I don’t make a crop. An’ I don’t go to church, ’cause I hain’t got any clothes excep’ these ’uns that I’ve got on, an’ my wife’s as bad off as _I_ be. An’ I don’t give up drinkin’, ’cause drinkin’ makes me feel good, an’ the only folks I know that care anything for me drink too. You fellers that only drink on the sly----” “I never touched a drop in all my life!” roared Father Baguss. “That’s right,” said Tappelmine; “stick to it; there’s some that’ll believe that yarn. But what I was goin’ to say was, folks that drink on the sly know it’s comfortin’, an’ I don’t see what they go a-pokin’ up fellers that does it fair an’ square for.”