of you."

"Then sais you to the young parson, 'Arthur,' sais you
'Natur jist made you for a clergyman. Now, do you jist
make yourself 'Archbishop of Canterbury.' My death-bed
scene will be an awful one, if I don't see you 'the
Primate'; for my affections, my hopes, my heart, is fixed
on it. I shall be willin' to die then, I shall depart in
peace, and leave this world happy. And, Arthur,' sais
you, 'they talk and brag here till one is sick of the
sound a'most about "Addison's death-bed." Good people
refer to it as an example, authors as a theatrical scene
and hypocrites as a grand illustration for them to turn
up the whites of their cold cantin' eyes at. Lord love
you, my son,' sais you, 'let them brag of it; but what
would it be to mine; you congratulatin' me on goin' to
a better world, and me congratulatin' you on bein'
"Archbishop." Then,' sais you, in a starn voice like a
boatsan's trumpet--for if you want things to be remembered,
give 'em effect, "Aim high," Sir,' sais you. Then like
my old father, fetch him a kick on his western eend, that
will lift him clean over the table, and say 'that's the
way to rise in the world, you young sucking parson you.
"Aim high," Sir.'

"Neither of them will ever forget it as long as they
live. The hit does that; for a kick is a very _striking_
thing, that's a fact. There has been _no good scholars
since birch rods went out o' school, and sentiment went
in_."