like h-1, an' she screetched eout thet she dident 'low
no sech wurds in har hous', an' ordurd me ter leave.
Mi'tey sqeemish thet, warn't it bein' as shede ben fur
so mony yar the Cunnel's , an' th' tuther one his
" Wal, I didl leav'; but I left a piece of mi mind
a-hind. I toled har I'de buy that ar 'ooman ef she cost
all I war wuth and I had ter pawne my sole ter git the
money; an' I added, jess by way ov sweet'nin' the pill,
thet I ow'd all I hed ter har husband, an' dident furget
my debts ef she did her'n, an' ef his own wife disgraced
him, I'd be d-d ef Iwud.
"W Wal, I've got th' ma'am an' har boy ter hum, an'
my 'ooman hes tuk ter har a heep. I doant no w'en the
sale's ter cum off, but ye may bet hi' on my beein' thar;
an' I'll buy har ef I hev ter go my hull pile on har, an'
borrer th' money fur ole Pomp. But he'll go cheap,
'case the Cunnel's deth nigh dun him up. It clean
killed Ante Lucey. She never held her hed up arter she
heerd 'Masser Davy' war dead, fur she sot har vary life
on him. Don't ye fele consarned 'bout the ma'am-I
knows ye sot hi' on har-I'll buy har, shore. Thet
an' deth ar th' onely things thet I knows on, in this
wurld, jess now, that ar SARTIN."
Such is Andy's letter. Mis-spelled and profane though
it be, I would not alter a word or a syllable of it. It
deserves to be written in characters of gold, and hung
up in the sky, where it might be read by all the world.
And it is written in the sky-in the great record-book-