thought I would this time set down logically
his premises, major and minor, with the
conclusions, mathematically speaking, to reduce his
vulgar fractions, with swelling denominators, to
lowest terms. But did you ever wait for the
settling of the froth of new ale?

I have heard some startling sermons in my
time. Think of a man with cropped hair, grovelling
look, no manners, the action of a wood-
sawyer, and the tone of a bull, pulling
his coat off, loosening his cravat, and then
"going in" after this fashion: "Beerthren an'
sister'n, I'm all the way from Indianny—ah,
where I left my wife'n six children—ah, to come
over here an' preach to you the Gospel—ah! I
ain't got no larnin', an' I don't want any. I'm
proud to be as ign'rant as my lord an' master—
ah, an' his disciples an' apostles—ah! If God
wanted me to have larnin' ah,—he'd a gin me
larnin'." And so on for an hour. I [William
Tompkins, counsellor, &c.] am ready to make
affidavit having heard this exercise—the ahs exploded
like a lumberer's when felling an oak—
one fine day in the woods, where, from a safe
distance on horseback, I beheld the motley crowd
that gathers on such occasions.

I do not believe, however, the story which my
friend James tells of a young preacher, who, in
the midst of the long prayer before sermon,
casting his eye furtively upon his watch on the
pulpit-cushion, and seeing that a considerable
portion of the customary fifteen minutes
remained to be filled, went through every form of
petition he had ever heard, including the
restoration of the Jews to Palestine and the coming
of the millennium; and at last, thinking of an
expedient which had sometimes served him in
eking out an unsatisfactory exhortation,
exclaimed, "And now, O Lord, I will relate an
anecdote!"

I repeat, I do not believe this story, although
it has some features of probability.

To return. On Monday, Jake appeared with
a knowing face. Presently, the cause of his
knowing expression came out. Colonel Barwell
called. It was county court day, when every
farmer of substance (and some without) came to
town to do business. The colonel was in many
respects a very remarkable man. He was tall,
six feet two, broad-shouldered, and not too
corpulent. His leonine hair fell backward from
a fair brow, while the lower part of his face was
browned, and his solid chin thickly set with
stumps of blue-black beard. A more commanding
person one would seldom see. Two things
you would be certain of: first, that Colonel
Barwell had the most flourishing farm in the
county: second, that his family (in his own
opinion) was beyond comparison the first and
bluest blooded that ever sprang from old
Virginia.His courtesy was overwhelming in its
stateliness. He had come to ask me to make
him a visit. Jake's intervention was politely
kept in the background. His daughter, attending
school in Harrington, was going to return
with him that day, having a vacation of a few
weeks. My business was not troublesome, and
nothing stood in the way of acceptance. In the
afternoon, Colonel Harwell called for me, and,
having mounted owe horses, we rode to the
seminary. The daughter was already at the
door in a riding suit. A young fellow came
out, and, as I thought, exchanged a significant
glance with her. The colonel bent his scowling
regards upon the youngster as he walked away,
but neither spoke or recognised the other.

"Come, my daughter," said Colonel Barwell,
"Jake is holding your horse."

As we rode away, I took my place at her right,
being beckoned there by her father. It was
really a new sensation to me, to come in contact
with such a fresh and spontaneous nature. Very
handsome, animated, vivacious, and natural,
I really think she spoke just as she thought, and
without a particle of policy or reserve.
Nevertheless, she did not once allude to the youth
who had departed with the reflexion of her smile
on his face. And I suspected that her rapid and
even brilliant talk was the result of effort.

In due time we traversed the sixteen miles
which constituted our journey to Colonel
Barwell's estate; our ride through the prairie land,
covered here and there with stunted scraggy
black-jacks, does not require any special
mention. Neither shall I describe the house, the
negro quarters, the kennels, and stables. Are
there not tourists who do this? Nor shall I
dwell upon the sumptuous entertainments, the
old-fashioned Virginia dances, the morning
rides, the exhilarating life in the open air,
the freedom from restraint, which make a
wealthy Kentucky farmer's house the most
delightful place to visit in the (Western) world.
Miss Celia was my constant companion, and
Jake was our faithful squire. But I could not
forget that youngster, and I felt sure that Miss
Barwell did not forget him either. You can
believe me. I am not the hero of my own story.
The youth had been beforehand with me.

Jake, however, drew conclusions rapidly.

"Powerful good girl, Miss Cely; caze I
knows her from a piccaninny. Carried her in my
arms; reckon couldn't do it now, nohow." And
Jake laughed, but continued. "Dere's ony two
of 'em to sheer the property, Miss Cely an' Miss
Anny; short division, hi! a mighty big farm
an' lots o' niggers. Couldn't do better, noways.
And, Massa Bill" [meaning me, William Tompkins]
"I sh'd like to b'long to you, I should so!"

I had not thought of making an investment
in that species of live stock, but the frank
avowal of confidence by Jake was a compliment
to my good temper which I own was flattering.
So I told him that if I were his owner I would
not whip him more than once a week; at which
he haw-hawed, and showed his vermilion gums
again.

Nothing could be more touching than the
pride and affection Colonel Barwell felt in his
daughter. He watched her sparkling face at
table, and followed her steps across the floor with
all a father's fondness in his eyes. His wife was
dead; he had no son; and his second daughter,
Anne, was plainer, and of a quiet turn.