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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Ray," said Eleanor, at the door, "will you oblige me by seeing Sam Kimper in the morning and asking him to tell his daughter that I particularly wish she would come back to us?" The revival into which were merged the special meetings at Dr. Guide's church continued so long that religion became absolutely and enthrallingly fashionable in Bruceton.
To visit a pleasant family with the intention of making a general conquest and find himself confronted by a line of obstacles which he always had regarded as trifling, yet which he was unable to overcome, and to be told that religion was a reality because it had changed Sam Kimper, one of the most insignificant wretches in town, from a lazy, thievish drunkard to an honest, sober, industrious citizen, all this was to make war upon Reynolds Bartram's constitutional opinions as to the fitness of things.
"Mr. Kimper, the young man, Mr. Bartram, of whom I spoke to you, I really believe he is inclined to come and talk to you, and perhaps talk a great deal, about what you seem to believe very sincerely and what he doesn't believe at all. I hope you won't change your mind through anything that can be said to you by a person of that kind, or by any person whatever?" "Mrs.
The feeding motions of the eldest male of the Kimper collection of children stopped for an instant, and Master Tom leered at his father as he said, "Who's goin' to give the thrashin'?" "I am, Tom, your father is, an' don't make any mistake about it. He'll do it good an' brown, too, if he's to die used up right away afterwards.
I ain't got the gift o' gab. I couldn't never say much to the fellers in the saloon along around about election-times, though I b'lieved in the party with all my might." "It doesn't take any gift to tell the plain truth," said the deacon. "Come along. Mrs. Kimper, you come too, so Samuel will have no excuse to stay home." "Me?" gasped Mrs. Kimper.
We began to talk about Sam Kimper; and I want you to promise me that you won't talk to anybody else about his needing liquor, and about his breaking down in the course of time unless he gets it." "Of course I von't talk about it, deacon. Do you s'pose I'm a fool? Do you s'pose I vant to see people get drunk? No, sir; people dat gets drunk don't come to my shop.
The judge's wife dropped her eyes and seemed in doubt for an instant as to whether to be angry or only amused. Finally she looked up frankly and said, "Mr. Kimper, you're a parent and so am I. I see you have been putting yourself in my place. It is quite natural that you should do so, and it is very creditable to you that you have done it in the way you have.
Kimper was human; she was a woman, and she finally rose to the occasion to the extent of kissing her husband, though immediately afterward she said, apparently by way of apology, "I don't know how I come to do that." "Neither do I, Nan; I don't know how you can do anythin' but hate me. But you ain't goin' to have no new reason for doin' it. I'm goin' to be different ev'ry way from what I was."
You're my wife, Nan; you don't know what that means to me now, you reelly don't." Mrs. Kimper stared, then she almost smiled. "I mean it, Nan," whispered the man. Mrs. Kimper rummaged for a moment in the drawers of a dilapidated bureau, and finally folded a red handkerchief and tied it over her head. "Good!" said the deacon, who had been watching the couple closely.
The deacon snapped out this question; his words sounded like a saw-file at work. "Merely what I say," the judge replied. "We all trust to our religion while things go to suit us, but as soon as there's something unusual to be done in the way of business we fall back on our old friend the Devil, just as Sam Kimper used to do."
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