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But even as I looked, I heard a low, peaceful snore. And I see that Josiah Allen had so fur forgot good manners and what wuz due to high principles and horspitality as to set there fast asleep. Yes, sleepin’ as sweet as a babe in its mother’s arms.

I looked mortified, I know.

But Cousin John Richard took it all historically—nuthin’ personal could touch him, so it seemed.

And sez he to me. “There is a fair instance of what I have told you, cousin—a plain illustration of the indifference and unbelief of the North as to the state of affairs in the Southern States.”

“Wall,” sez I, “Josiah has been broke of his rest some durin’ the year with newraligy, and you must overlook it in him.”

And, wantin’ to change the subject, I asked him if he wouldn’t like a glass of new milk before retirin’ and goin’ to bed.

And he said he would; and I brung it in to him with a little plate of crackers on a tray. And as I come by Josiah Allen I made calculation ahead to hit him axidentally on his bald head with my elbow.