sure that, for love of us, you will do it. If Firm was
to run away from me now, and go fighting on behalf of slavery, I never
should care more for naught upon this side of Jordan; and the new mill
might go to Jericho; though it does look uncommon handsome now, I can
assure you, and tears through its work like a tiger.

"Noting symptoms in your last of the price of things in England, and
having carried over some to your account, inclosed please to find a bill
for five hundred dollars, though not likely to be wanted yet. Save a
care of your money, my dear; but pay your way handsome, as a Castlewood
should do. Jowler goes his rounds twice a day looking for you; and
somebody else never hangs his hat up without casting one eye at the
corner you know. Sylvester's girl was over here last week, dashing about
as usual. If Firm goes South, he may have her, for aught I care, and
never see saw-mill again. But I hope that the Lord will spare my old
days such disgrace and tribulation.

"About you know what, my dear, be not overanxious. I have been young,
and now am old, as the holy Psalmist says; and the more I see of the
ways of men, the less I verily think of them. Their good esteem, their
cap in hand, their fair fame, as they call it, goes by accident, and
fortune, the whim of the moment, and the way the clever ones have of
tickling them. A great man laughs at the flimsy of it, and a good one
goes to his conscience. Your father saw these things at their value.
I have often grieved that you can not see them so; but perhaps I have
liked you none the worse, my dear.

"Don't forget about going South. A word from you may stop him. It is
almost the only hope I have, and even that may be too late. Suan Isco
and Martin send messages. The flowers are on your father's grave. I have
got a large order for pine cradles in great haste, but have time to be,

"Truly yours,

"SAMPSON GUNDRY."

That letter, while it relieved me in one way, from the want of money,
cost me more than ten times five hundred dollars' worth of anxiety. The
Sawyer had written to me twice ere this--kind, simple letters, but of
no importance, except for their goodness and affection. But now it was
clear that when he wrote this letter he must have been sadly put out and
upset. His advice to me was beyond all value; but he seemed to have kept
none at home for himself. He was carried quite out of his large, staid
ways when he wrote those bitter words about poor Firm--t