ways o' settlin the trouble; bills instid o' bagonets. The beauty on't
so fer is that thar hain't been no sheddin o' blood, nor no vi'lence
tew speak of, ceppin a leetle shovin daown tew Barrington, an I hope
thar won't be."

"I don't know about that," said Paul Hubbard. "Not that I want to see
any killing, but there are some silk stockings in this here town that
would look mighty well sticking through the stocks, an there are some
white skins that ought to know how a whip feels, jist so the men that
own em might see how the medicine tastes they've been giving us so
many years."

There was a general murmur indicating approval of this sentiment, and
several "that's sos" were heard, but Israel said, as he patted Hubbard
paternally on the back:

"Let bygones be bygones, Paul. Them things be all over naow, an I
callate thar won't be no more busin of poor folks. The lyin an the
lamb be a gonter lie down together arter this, 'cordin tew scripter. I
declar, it seems jiss like the good ole times 'long from '74 to '80,
wen thar warn't no courts in Berkshire. Wen I wuz a tellin ye baout
them times 'tother night, I swow I didn't callate ye'd ever have a
chance to see em fer yerselves, leastways, not till ye got ter Heavin,
an I guess that's a slim chance with most on ye. Jess think on't,
boys. Thar ain't been nary sheriff's sale, nor a man tuk ter jail this
hull week."

"Iry Seymour wuz a gonter sell aout Elnathan Hamlin this week, but
somehow he hain't got tew it," said Abner, dryly. "I callate he heard
some news from Barrington baout Tuesday."