body, jarred the air. “I hev seen ye, Mose Carter,” he continued, “in this hyar very still-house ez drunk ez a fraish biled owl. Ye hev laid on this hyar floor too drunk ter move hand or foot all night an’ haffen the nex’ day at one spree. I hev seen ye’, an’ so hev plenty o’ other folks. An’ ef ye comes hyar a-jowin’ so sanctified ’bout’n folks a-gittin’ drunk, I’ll turn ye out’n this hyar still-house fur tellin’ of lies.” He paused as abruptly as he had spoken; but before Moses Carter could collect his slow faculties he had resumed. “It ’pears powerful comical ter me ter hear this hyar Baptis’ church a-settin’ of itself up so stiff fur temp’rance, ’kase thar air an old sayin’--an’ I b’lieves it--ez the Presbyterians holler--‘What is ter be will be!--even ef it won’t be!’ an’ the Methodies holler, ‘Fire! fire! fire! Brimstun’ an’ blue blazes!’--but the Bapties holler, ‘Water! water! water! with a _leetle_ drap o’ whisky in it!’ But ye an’ yer church’ll be dry enough arter this; thar’ll be less liquor drunk ’mongst ye’n ever hev been afore, ’kase ye air all too cussed stingy ter pay five cents extry a quart like ye’ll hev ter do at Joe Gilligan’s store down yander ter the Settlemint. Fur nare one o’ them sanctified church brethren’ll git another drap o’ liquor hyar, whar it hev always been so powerful cheap an’ handy.” “The dryer ez ye kin make the church the better ye’ll please the pa’son. He lays off a reg’lar temperance drought fur them ez kin foller arter his words. I be a-tryin’ ter mend my ways,” Moses Carter droned with a long, sanctimonious face, “but--” he hesitated, “the sperit is willin’, but the flesh is weak--the flesh is weak!” “I’ll be bound no sperits air weak ez ye hev ennything ter do with, leastwise swaller,” said the Panther, with a quick snap. “He is hyar in the mounting ter-night, the pa’son,” resumed Mose Carter, with that effort, always ill-starred, to affect to perceive naught amiss when a friend is sullenly belligerent; he preserved the indifferent tone of one retailing casual gossip. “The pa’son hev laid off ter spen’ the better part o’ the night in prayer and wrestlin’ speritchully in the church-house agin his sermon ter-morrer, it bein’ the blessed Sabbath. He ’lowed he would be more sole and alone thar than at old man Allen’s house, whar he be puttin’ up fur the night, ’kase at old man Allen’s they hev seben gran’chil’ren an’ only one room, barrin’ the roof-room. Thar be a heap o’ onregenerate human natur’ in them seben Allen gran’chil’ren. Thar ain’t no use I reckon in tryin’ ter awake old man Allen ter a sense of sin an’ the awful oncertainty of life by talkin’ ter _him_ o’ the silence an’ solitude o’ the grave! Kee, kee!” he laughed. But he laughed alone.