must seem to old people; but to a young fellow, full of blood,
who eats well, drinks well, sleeps well, and should naturally have
a hankering after a young girl, all this is against nature. Now,
what's against nature is wrong, and there's wrong at the bottom of
it. Youth is the time to laugh, dance, sing, play on the violin,
and always have a sweetheart when it can find one. If you can't get
a beauty take a brown; and if Mary won't smile, Susan will. But
always have a sweetheart; always be ready for fun and frolic; that's
the way for the young, and when they don't take these ways, it's
unnatural--there's something wrong about it, and I'm suspicious of
THAT person. Now, I just have this notion of the young stranger.
He's after no good. I reckon he's like a hundred others; too
lazy to go to work, he goes to preaching, and learns in the first
sermon to beg hard for the missionaries. I'll lick him, Bill, to
a certainty, if he gives me the littlest end of an opportunity."

"Pshaw, Ned, don't think of such a thing. You are quite too fond
of licking people."

"Deuse a bit. It does 'em good. Look you, this chap is monstrous
like Joe Richards. I'll have to lick him on that account."

"You're mad, Ned; talk of whipping a preacher."

"He's no preacher yet," said the other, "but if I lick him he may
become one."

"No matter, he's never offended you."

"Ay, but he will. I see it in the fellow's looks. I never was