eady when the time comes to
take teacher and me over to West Wallen to Sunday school, won't ye?"

Grandpa coughed, and coughed again, and raised his eyes helplessly to the
window.

"Looks some like showers," said he. "A-hem! ahem! Looks mightily to me
like showers, over yonder."

"Thar', r'aly, husband! I must say I feel mortified for ye," said
Grandma. "Seein' as you're a professor, too, and thar' ain't been a
single Sunday mornin' since I've lived with ye, pa, summer or winter, but
what you've seen showers, and it r'aly seems to me it's dreadful
inconsistent when thar' ain't no cloud in the sky, and don't look no more
like rain than I do." And Grandma's face, in spite of her reproachful
tones, was, above all, blandly sunlike and expressive of anything rather
than deluge and watery disaster.

Grandpa was silent a little while, then coughed again I had never seen
Grandpa in worse straits.

"A-hem! a-hem! 'Fanny' seems to be a little lame, this mornin'," said he.
"I shouldn't wonder. She's been goin' pretty stiddy this week."

"It does beat all, pa," continued Grandma Keeler, "how't all the horses
you've ever had since I've known ye have always been took lame Sunday
mornin'. Thar' was 'Happy Jack,' he could go anywhers through the week,
and never limp a step, as nobody could see, and Sunday mornin' he was
always took lame! And thar' was 'Tantrum'----"

"Tantrum" was the horse that had run away with Grandma when she was
thrown from the wagon, and generally smashed to pieces. And now, Grandma
branched off into the thrilling reminiscences connected with this
incident of her life, which was the third time during the week that the
horrible tale had been repeated for my delectation.

When she had finished, Grandpa shook his head with painful earnestness,
reverting to the former subject of discussion.

"It's a long jaunt!" said he; "a long jaunt!"

"Thar's a long hill to climb before we reach Zion's mount," said Grandma
Keeler, impressively.

"Wall, there's a darned sight harder one on the road to West Wallen!"
burst out the old sea-captain desperately; "say nothin' about the
devilish stones!"

"Thar' now," said Grandma, with calm though awful reproof; "I think we've
gone fur enough for one day; we've broke the Sabbath, and took the name
of the Lord in vain, and that ought to be enough for perfessors."

Grandpa replied at length in a greatly subdued tone: "Wall, if you and
the teacher want to go over to Sunday s