John Rogers Jr. wasn’t there when we arrived, and so I went to admirin’ his statutes. They was perfectly beautiful, though middlin’ small sized, and they all had clothes on, which was a surprise to me, and indeed a treat. The young couple comin’ to the Parson, looked first-rate, though considerable sheepish. And there was the “Favored Scholar,” lookin’ pretty and important, and the little boy, who I persume got whipped several times a day, makin’ up a face at her, jest as natural. And there was “We Boys,” on the horse’s back—goin’ after the cows, mebby; you could almost smell the clover blows, and the sweet hay a blowin’ down the lane, and almost hear the tinklin’ of the cow bell way off in the age of the woody pasture; the boys faces told the hull story. And then there was the confederate lady with the sick child, “Drawin’ Rations” of the triumphant North. All the pride of a long race of proud ancestors looked out of her sad eyes, as she came to take charity of her conqueror; but it was done for love’s sake—you could see that too, and that makes hard things easy. It is a middlin’ quiet influence, but it is more powerful in movin’ folks than a earthquake. And then there was the “Tap on the Window,” and “Rip Van Winkle,” and others; and before I had got half through admirin’ of ’em, a good lookin’ man come along that seemed awful tickled to see the feller and girl with me, and they laughed and whispered to each other real friendly, and then the young chap says he: “Allow me to introduce you Madam, to my friend John Rogers Jr.”
Says I, in tones tremblin’ with emotion: “How do you do, John Rogers Jr., I’ll make you acquainted with Josiah Allen’s wife;” and then I made a low curchy and shook hands with him, and says I, “I am all well, and hope you are the same.” And then politeness bein’ attended to, I spoke out and says I:
“John Rogers Jr., you haint no idee how I have been admirin’ your statutes, not only on account of their wonderful beauty, but on the account of your honored father. Your father, John Rogers Jr., was one of the noblest men I ever got acquainted with—in a history way, I mean. Folks may think they have got sound, well-seasoned principles that will stand most any strain, but I tell you, let anybody be sot fire to, and that will show what stuff they are made of.” Says I, “I have heerd folks tell about gittin’ up and bearin’ the cross, in a room all carpeted off, and jest warm enough for comfort; I never loved to hear it, for if that means anything, it means bearin’ the hull sin and sorrows of the world, the agony and despair, when earth destroyed and Heaven seemed to have forgotten. It means a good deal; I’ve heerd folks talk about bearin’ their cross in gittin’ up and exhortin’ folks, when you couldn’t tie ’em down they wanted to git up and talk so awful bad, and you couldn’t stop ’em, when they got at it. Why, to look round on the congregation sometimes, you would think if there was any agony about it, the hearers was the ones a sufferin’ of it. It is all right to talk in meetin’; I have heerd them that I had jest as lives hear as any minister—tender, simple messages that come straight from a good lovin’ Christian heart, and went to other hearts, jest like a arrer from a bo.”