“I had been a long spell hankerin' arter old Tom Jones' darter, on the branch below the Bottom, and she was a critter good for weak eyes--maybe she hadn't a pair of her own--well, if they warn't a brace of movin' light-houses, I wouldn't say it--there was no calculatin' the extent or handsomeness of the family that gal could bring up around her, with a feller like me to look arter 'em. Talk about gracefulness, did you ever see a maple saplin' movin' with a south wind?--It warn't a crooked stick to compar' to her, but her old dad was awful. He could jest lick anythin' that said boo, in them diggins, out swar Satan, and was cross as a she bar, with cubs. He had a little hankerin' in favor of the fellers in town, too, fur they gin him presents of powder to hunt with, and he was precious fond of usin' his shootin' iron. I detarmin'd, anyhow, to ask his darter Betsy to be my partner at the Nettle Bottom Ball. “Well, my sister Marth made me a bran new pair of buckskin trowsers to go in, and rile my pictur, ef she didn't put stirrups to 'em to keep 'em down. She said straps wur the fashion, and I should ware 'em. I jest felt with 'em on; as ef I had somethin' pressin' on me down--all my joints wur sot tight together, but Marth insisted, and I knew I could soon dance 'em off, so I gin in, and started off to the branch for Betsy Jones. “When I arriv, the old fellar wur sittin' smokin' arter his supper, and the younger Jones' wur sittin' round the table, takin' theirs. A whappin' big pan of mush stood rite in the centre, and a large pan of milk beside it, with lots of corn bread and butter, and Betsy was helpin' the youngsters, while old Mrs. Jones sot by. admirin' the family collection. Old Tom took a hard star' at me, and I kind a shook, but the straps stood it, and I recovered myself, and gin him as good as he sent, but I wur near the door, and ready to break if he show'd fight. “'What the h--ll are you doin' in disgise,' says the old man--he swore dreadfully--'are you comin' down here to steal?' “I riled up at that. Says I, 'ef I wur comin' fur sich purpose, you'd be the last I'd hunt up to steal off on.' “'You're right,' says he, 'I'd make a hole to light your innards, ef you did.' And the old savage chuckled. I meant because he had nothin' worth stealin', but his darter, but he tho't 'twas cos I was afear'd on him.