"Well, take my bed back of the quilt. You'll find a hoe there.
You can dig up the dirt under the shuck tick with it--which helps
astonishingly. What would the world say if it could know that
judge Slocum Price makes his bed with a hoe! There's Spartan
hardihood!" but the boy, not knowing what was meant by Spartan
hardihood, remained silent. "Nearing threescore years and ten,
the allotted span as set down by the Psalmist--once man of
fashion, soldier, statesman and lawgiver--and makes his bed with
a hoe! What a history!" muttered the judge with weary
melancholy, as one groping hand found the jug while the other
found the glass. There was a pause, while he profited by this
fortunate chance. "Well, take the bed," he resumed hospitably.

"I can sleep most anywhere. I ain't no ways particular," said
Hannibal.

"I say, take the bed!" commanded the judge sternly. And Hannibal
quickly retired behind the quilt. "Do you find it comfortable?"
the judge asked, when the rustling of the shuck tick informed him
that the child had lain down.

"Yes, sir," said the boy.

"Have you said your prayers?" inquired the judge:.

"No, sir. I ain't said 'em yet."

"Well, say them now. Religion is as becoming in the young as it
is respectable in the aged. I'll not disturb you to-night, for
it is God's will that I should stay up and get very drunk."