“‘Brother Joe,’ sez I, ‘you’re a goin’ up.’
“‘Brother Bill,’ sez he, ‘I ain’t a doin’ anythin’ else.’
“And he scrunched down mighty hard; but it warn’t ov no use, fur afor long he wur a matter of some fifteen feet up in the air.”
“Merciful powers,” interrupted the widow.
“‘Catch hold ov the top ov that black-jack,’ sez I.
“‘Talk!’ sez Brother Joe, and he sorter leaned over and grabbed the saplin’, like as maybe you’ve seed a squ’el haul in an elm switch ov a June mornin’. But it warn’t ov no use, fur, old ’omen, ef you’ll believe me, it gradually begun to give way at the roots, and afore he’d got five foot higher, it jist slipped out er the ground, as easy as you’d pull up a spring reddish.
“‘Cut your straps!’ sez I, for I seed it was his last chance.
“‘Talk!’ sez Brother Joe, tho’ he looked sort a reproachful like at me fur broachin’ such a subject; but arter apparently considerin’ awhile, he outs with his jack-knife, an’ leanin’ over sideways, made a rip at the sole of his left foot. There was a considerable deal ov cracklin’ fur a second or two, then a crash sorter like as if a waggon-load of wood had bruck down, and the fust thing I know’d, the t’other leg shot up like, and started him; and the last thing I seed ov Brother Joe, he was _a whirlin’ round like a four-spoked wheel with the rim off, away overclost toward sundown_!”
If my memory fail me not, the 10th of June, 18— found me, at about eleven o’clock in the forenoon, ascending a long and gentle slope in what was called “The Dark Corner” of Lincoln. I believe it took its name from the moral darkness which reigned over that portion of the county at the time of which I am speaking. If in this point of view, it was but a shade darker than the county, it was inconceivably dark. If any man can name a trick or sin which had not been committed at the time of which I am speaking in the very focus of all the county’s illumination (Lincolnton), he must himself be the most inventive of the tricky, and the very Judas of sinners. Since that time, however (all humour aside), Lincoln has become a living proof “that light shineth in darkness.” Could I venture to mingle the solemn with the ludicrous, even for the purposes of honourable contrast, I could adduce from this county instances of the most numerous and wonderful transitions, from vice and folly to virtue and holiness, which have ever perhaps been witnessed since the days of the Apostolic ministry.