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"Wal, so old Cack he got out his tin lantern, and went with Cap'n Eb back to the bars to help him fetch along his critturs. He told him he could put 'em under the mill-shed. So they got the critturs up to the shed, and got the cart under; and by that time the storm was awful.
"'Wal, says old Cack, if 'tis the Devil, we'd jest as good's open, and have it out with him to onst, says he; and so he got up and opened the door, and, sure enough, there was old Ketury there. Expect you've heard your grandma tell about old Ketury.
I don't doubt he thought so. I suppose he and Cack got drinking toddy together, till he got asleep, and dreamed it. I wouldn't believe such a thing if it did happen right before my face and eyes. I should only think I was crazy, that's all." "Come, Lois, if I was you, I wouldn't talk so like a Sadducee," said my grandmother. "What would become of all the accounts in Dr.
Everybody thought that Ketury was a witch: at least, she knew consid'able more'n she ought to know, and so they was kind o' 'fraid on her. Cap'n Eb says he never see a fellow seem scareder than Cack did when he see Ketury a-standin' there.
I do know a feller what works with him they say he's close to the ol' man. Bill Medders. Knowed Bill when he was a little cack, knee-high to a grasshopper. They say he wrote a book about Eddy's son. I'd know Bill Medder's voice if I heard it in a b'iler factory." Bill Brown could hardly repress a smile. "I guess you must mean William H. Meadowcroft. His 'Boys' Life of Edison' sure is a dandy book.
So he jest thought he'd take the hoss out o' the team, and go ahead a little, and see where he was. So he driv his oxen up ag'in the fence, and took out the hoss, and got on him, and pushed along through the woods, not rightly knowin' where he was goin'. "Wal, afore long he see a light through the trees; and, sure enough, he come out to Cack Sparrock's old mill.
"Wal, they waited a minit, and didn't hear nothin' but the wind a-screechin' round the chimbley; and old Cack was jest goin' on with his story, when the rap come ag'in, harder'n ever, as if it'd shook the door open.
"Cap'n Eb says in all his born days he never hearn such screeches and yells as the wind give over that chimbley; and old Cack got so frightened, you could fairly hear his teeth chatter.
What can you spect to come of it, when he lies idlin' round in his old week-day close, fishing, or some sich, but what the Devil should be arter him at last, as he was arter old Cack?" Here Sam winked impressively to my grandfather in the opposite corner, to call his attention to the moral which he was interweaving with his narrative.
I was of Sardinia and for that aforetime I much commended a master of mine of being jealous, I have been doomed of God to this punishment, that I must give thee to eat and drink and beat thee thus, till such time as God shall ordain otherwhat of thee and of me. Then said Ferondo, 'Is there none here other than we twain? 'Ay, answered the monk, 'there be folk by the thousands; but thou canst neither see nor hear them, nor they thee. Quoth Ferondo, 'And how far are we from our own countries? 'Ecod, replied the other, 'we are distant thence more miles than we can well cack at a bout. 'Faith, rejoined the farmer, 'that is far enough; meseemeth we must be out of the world, an it be so much as all that.
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