And talk on fer a page er two jest like he used to talk.

And he wrote, along 'fore harvest, that he guessed he
would git home,
Fer business would, of course, be dull in town.--But
DIDN'T come:--
We got a postal later, sayin' when they had no trade
They filled the time "invoicin' goods," and that was why
he stayed.

And then he quit a-writin' altogether: Not a word--
Exceptin' what the neighbers brung who'd been to town
and heard
What store John was clerkin' in, and went round to in-
quire
If they could buy their goods there less and sell their
produce higher.

And so the Summer faded out, and Autumn wore away,
And a keener Winter never fetched around Thanksgivin'-
Day!
The night before that day of thanks I'll never quite fergit,
The wind a-howlin' round the house-it makes me creepy
yit!

And there set me and Mother--me a-twistin' at the
prongs
Of a green scrub-ellum forestick with a vicious pair of
tongs,
And Mother sayin', "DAVID! DAVID!" in a' undertone,