_Mrs. S._ And so do I, Miss Reid. Indeed I have a great leanin’ to sweats of yerbs, in all ailments sich as colds, and rheumaty pains, and pleurisies, and sich—they’re wonderful good. Old brother Smith came to my house from Bethany meeting, in a mighty bad way, with a cold, and cough, and his throat and nose all stopt up; seemed like it would ’most take his breath away, and it was dead o’ winter, and I had nothin’ but dried yerbs, sich as camomile, sage, pennyryal, catmint, horehound, and sich; so I put a hot rock to his feet, and made him a large bowl o’ catmint tea, and I reckon he drank ’most two quarts of it through the night, and it put him in a mighty fine sweat, and loosened all the _phleem_, and opened all his head; and the next morning, says he to me, says he: “Sister Shad” (you know he’s a mighty kind spoken man, and always was so ’fore he joined society; and the old man likes a joke yet right well, the old man does; but he’s a mighty good man, and I think he prays with greater libity, than ’most any one of his age I ’most ever seed)—Don’t you think he does, Miss Reed? _Mrs. R._ Powerful. _Mrs. B._ Who did he marry? _Mrs. S._ Why, he married—stop, I’ll tell you directly—Why, what does make my old head forget so? _Mrs. B._ Well, it seems to me I don’t remember like I used to. Didn’t he marry a Ramsbottom? _Mrs. R._ No. Stay, I’ll tell you who he married presently—Oh, stay! why I’ll tell you who he married!—He married old daddy Johnny Hooer’s d’ater, Mournin’. _Mrs. S._ Why, la! messy on me, so he did! _Mrs. B._ Why, did he marry a Hooer? _Mrs. S._ Why, to be sure he did.—You knew Mournin’? _Mrs. B._ Oh, mighty well; but I’d forgot that brother Smith married her: I really thought he married a Ramsbottom. _Mrs. R._ Oh no, bless your soul, honey, he married Mournin’. _Mrs. B._ Well, the law me, I’m clear beat! _Mrs. S._ Oh, it’s so, you may be sure it is. _Mrs. B._ Emp, emph, emph, emph! And brother Smith married Mournin’ Hooer! Well, I’m clear put out! Seems to me I’m gittin’ mighty forgetful somehow. _Mrs. S._ Oh yes, he married Mournin’, and I saw her when she joined society. _Mrs. B._ Why, you don’t tell me so! _Mrs. S._ Oh, it’s the truth. She didn’t join till after she was married, and the church took on mightily about his marrying one out of society. But after she joined, they all got satisfied. _Mrs. R._ Why, la! me, the seven stars is ’way over here! _Mrs. B._ Well, let’s light our pipes, and take a short smoke, and go to bed. How did you come on raisin’ chickens this year, Mis’ Shad! _Mrs. S._ La messy, honey! I have had mighty bad luck. I had the prettiest pa’sel you most ever seed till the varment took to killin’ ’em. _Mrs. R. and Mrs. B._ The varment!