For we can't have parson here, if it be true, as I've heard say, There's a dyin' man as wants him more'n twenty mile away; So"--He hadn't time to finish ere the child was out of bed, With a shawl about its body an' a hood upon its head. "Saddle up," the missus said. I did her biddin' like a bird. Perhaps I thought it foolish, but I never said a word; For though I have a vote in what the kids eat, drink, or wear, Their sperritual requirements are entirely _her_ affair. We started on our two hours' ride beneath a burnin' sun, With Aunt Sal and Bill for sureties to renounce the Evil One; An' a bottle in Sal's basket that was labelled "Fine Old Tom" Held the water that regeneration was to follow from. For Bluegrass Creek was dry, as Bill that very day had found, An' not a sup o' water to be had for miles around; So, to make salvation sartin for the babby's little soul, We had filled a dead marine, sir, at the fam'ly waterhole. Which every forty rods or so Sal raised it to her head, An' took a snifter, "just enough to wet her lips," she said; Whereby it came to pass that when we reached the chapel door, There was only what would serve the job, an' deuce a dribble more. The service had begun--we didn't like to carry in A vessel with so evident a carritur for gin; So we left it in the porch, an', havin' done our level best, Went an' owned to bein' "mis'rable offenders" with the rest. An' nigh upon the finish, when the parson had been told That a lamb was waitin' there to be admitted to the fold, Rememberin' the needful, I gets up an' quietly slips To the porch to see--a swagsman--with our bottle at his lips! Such a faintness came all over me, you might have then an' there Knocked me down, sir, with a feather or tied me with a hair. Doc., I couldn't speak nor move; an' though I caught the beggar's eye, With a wink he turned the bottle bottom up an' drank it dry. An' then he flung it from him, bein' suddintly aware That the label on't was merely a deloosion an' a snare; An' the crash cut short the people in the middle of "A-men," An' all the congregation heard him holler "Sold again!" So that christ'nin' was a failure; every water-flask was drained; Ev'n the monkey in the vestry not a blessed drop contained; An' the parson in a hurry cantered off upon his mare, Leavin' baby unregenerate, an' missus in despair. That night the child grew worse, but all my care was for the wife; I feared more for her reason than for that wee spark o' life.... But you know the rest--how Providence contrived that very night That a doctor should come cadgin' at our shanty for a light....