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Updated: May 22, 2025
Nothin' would do my wife, but she must go out an' preach too. I begged her told her that I loved her better than I did forty gospels, an' I did; but she would go. I told her not to come back but one night about three months atterward, when it was a pourin' down rain, an' my little child was a cryin', there come a knock on the door, an' an' I know'd.
I rebel ag'in' it, I will never endure it. And I kep' a-crying it as I seed her fade and thin; I cried it when the last breath flickered from her pore little body; I cried it when I laid her in the cold ground; I cried it when the preachers come to see me atterward, threatening judgment; I cried it when I felt the curse a-falling and the sight of my-eyes a-going; I cried it loud and fierce at her funeral occasion; and cry it I will to the end of my darkened days!
Losing Evy, and rebelling like she done atterward, and Uncle Joshuay's talk, holp it along fast, and it were plain to all before winter were over that he had prophesied right, and her sight were a-going.
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