"Nothin'!" says I.

"Yes," says he, "Nothin'." And, says he, "to-morrer they are
goin' to prove beyond any question, that there haint any God, nor
anything, and never wuz anything."

"Be they?" sez I.

"Yes," says he, "and won't you come and be convinced?"

I looked off onto the peaceful waters, onto the hills that lay as
the mountains did about Jerusalem, onto the pillow of fire that
seemed to hold in it the flames of that light that had lighted the
old world onto the mornin' of the new day, -- and one star had
come out, and stood tremblin' over the brow of the mountain and I
thought of that star that had riz so long time ago, and had guided
the three wise men, guided 'em jest alike from their three
different homes, entirely unbeknown to each other, guidin' 'em to
the cradle where lay the infant Redeemer of the world, so long
foretold by bard and prophet. I looked out onto the heavenly
glory of the day, and then inside into my heart, that held a faith
jest as bright and undyin' as the light of that star -- and I
says, "No, I guess I won't go and be convinced."

Wall, we riz up to go most immediately afterwerds, and the Deacon
(he is very smart) observed:

"How highly tickled and even highlarious the man seemed in talkin'
about there not bein' any future." And he says, "It wuz a good