"Look here, Mr. Madison," said Hiram Higgins, as he made ready to go and
climbed into the democrat, "would you allow that the Patriarch's goin'
blind was goin' to interfere any with his power of curin' folks? It'll
be a powerful blow to the town if it does."

"Why, of course not!" said Madison decisively. "Certainly not! Indeed, I
wouldn't be surprised if it enhanced his power--it's purely mental, you
know. They say that the loss of any one or more of the senses generally
tends to make the others only the more acute--it's the--er--law of
compensation."

"Glad to hear you say so," said Mr. Higgins, with a sigh of relief,
"'cause I got another letter to write 'sides this one for the Patriarch.
It come last night, an' I was figurin' on speakin' to you about it." Mr.
Higgins dropped the reins on the dashboard, and dove into first one
pocket and then another. "Shucks!" said he disgustedly. "Now if I ain't
gone an' left it to home after all. But I dunno as it makes much
difference. It was from a fellow up your way by the name of Michael
Coogan, an' was addressed to the postmaster. 'Pears he read a piece in
the papers about the Patriarch which he sent along with the letter.
Allows he's been ailin' quite a spell, though he don't say what's the
matter with him, an' wants to know if what's in that piece is all gospel
truth, 'cause if 'tis he's comin' down. That's why I'm right glad to
have heerd you say what you just said. Bein' postmaster an' writin'
'fficially, I got to be conscientious and pretty partic'lar."

"Yes, of course--naturally," said Madison. "And what are you going to
say to him?" "Why," returned Mr. Higgins, "there ain't no trouble about
it now. Goin' to tell him that if the Patriarch can't help him there
ain't nobody on earth can--thought of mentionin' your name, too."