pered demands--"Why! who's that?" And some
of his very people, who were present, as they told me, did not know
their preacher till his clear, sharp voice came upon the hearing, when
they showed, by the sudden lifting of hands and eyebrows, how near they
were to exclaiming: "Well! I never!"

Stepping on to the consecrated stump, our friend, without either
preliminary hymn or prayer, commenced thus:

"My friends, I only intend to say a few words in answer to the pious
brother that's just sat down, and shall not detain but a few minutes.
The pious brother took a good deal of time to tell what we soon found
out ourselves--that he never went to college and don't understand logic.
He boasts, too, of having no sheepskin to preach by; but I allow any
sensible buck-sheep would have died powerful sorry, if he'd ever thought
his hide would come to be handled by some preachers. The skin of the
knowingest old buck couldn't do some folks any good--some things salt
won't save.

"I rather allow Johnny Calvin's boys and 'tother baby sprinklers,'
ain't likely to have they idees physicked out of them by steam logic,
and doses of No. 6. They can't be steamed up so high as to want cooling
by a cold water plunge. But I want to say a word about Sprightly's
preachers, because I have some slight acquaintance with that there
gentleman, and don't choose to have them all run down for nothing.

"The pious brother brings several grave charges; first, they ride good
horses. Now don't every man, woman and child in the Purchase know that
Sprightly and his preachers have hardly any home, and that they live on
horseback? The money most folks spend in land these men spend for a good
horse; and don't they _need_ a good horse to stand mud and swim floods?
And is it any sin for a horse to be kept fat that does so much work? The
book says 'a merciful man is merciful to his beast,' and that we mustn't
'muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn.' Step round that fence
corner, and take a peep, dear friends, at a horse hung on the stake;
what's he like? A wooden frame with a dry hide stretched over it. What's
he live on? Ay! that's the pint! Well, what's them buzzards after?--look
at them sailing up there. Now who owns that live carrion?--the pious
brother that's just preached to us just now. And I want to know if it
wouldn't be better for him to give that dumb brute something to cover
his bones, before he talks against 'hunder-dollur hossis' and the like?

"