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That is a good syrup, very, though mebby I hadn’t ort to say it. It is one that I made up out of my own head, and is a success.

Yeller dock, and dandelion roots, and spignut, steeped up strong, and sweetened with honey.

I sent it to him to once, with some spignut roots by mail; I wuz afraid he couldn’t get ’em in the South.

And in my letter I asked him out of politeness, as it were, how he wuz a gettin’ along colporterin’, and if things looked any brighter to him in the South.

And such a answer as I got—such a letter! why, it wuz a sermon almost. Jest as skairful, jest as earnest, and jest as flowery as the talk he had talked to us when he wuz with us.

Why, it fairly sent the cold chills over me as I read it.

But it madded Josiah. He wuz mad as a hen to hear it, and he said agin that he believed Cousin John Richard (Josiah knew he wuz jest as good as gold, and he wouldn’t brook a word from anybody else agin him), but he said he believed he wuz a losin’ his faculties.

He didn’t believe a word on’t. He didn’t believe there wuz any danger nor any trouble; if folks would only let the South alone and mind their own bizness, it would get along well enough. But some folks had always got to be a putterin’ around, and a meddlin’, and he shouldn’t wonder a mite if John Richard wuz a doin’ jest such a work as that.