orgot that he was a Christian."

So from blunder to blunder Andrew pushed him, Humphreys stumbling more
and more in his blind attempts to right himself, and leaving, at last,
with much internal confusion but with an unruffled smile. He dared not
broach his errand by asking the address of August. For Andrew did not
conceal his disgust, having resumed work at his loom, suffering the
bowing impostor to find his own way out without so much as a
courteous adieu.

CHAPTER XXII.

JONAS EXPRESSES HIS OPINION ON DUTCHMEN.

Sometimes the virus of a family is all drawn off in one vial. I think it
is Emerson who makes this remark. We have all seen the vials.

Such an one was Norman Anderson. The curious law of hereditary descent
had somehow worked him only evil. "Nater," observed Jonas to Cynthy,
when the latter had announced to him that Norman, on account of some
disgrace at school, had returned home, "nater ha'n't done him half
jestice, I 'low. It went through Sam'el Anderson and Abig'il, and picked
out the leetle weak pompous things in the illustrious father; and then
hunted out all the spiteful and hateful things in the lovin' and
much-esteemed mother, and somehow stuck 'em together, to make as ornery
a chap as ever bit a hoe-cake in two."

"I'm afeard her brother's scrape and comin' home won't make Jule none
the peacefuller at the present time," said Cynthy Ann.

"Wal," returned Jonas, "I don't think she keers much fer him. She
couldn't, you know. Love him? Now, Cynthy Ann, my dear"--here Cynthy Ann
began to reproach herself for listening to anything so pleasant as
these two last words--"Now, Cynthy Ann, my dear, you see you might maybe
love a cuckle-burr and nuss it; but I don't think you would be likely
to. I never heern tell of nobody carryin' jimson-weed pods in their
bosoms. You see they a'n't no place about Norman Anderson that love
could take a holt of 'thout gittin' scratched."

"But his mother loves him, I reckon," said Cynthy Ann.

"Wal, yes; so she do. Loves her shadder in the lookin'-glass, maybe, and
kinder loves Norman bekase he's got so much of her devil into him. It's
like lovin' like, I reckon. But I 'low they's a right smart difference
with Jule. Sence she was born, that Norman has took more delight in
tormentin' Jule than a yaller dog with a white tail does in worryin' a
brindle tom-cat up a peach-tree. And comin' home at this junction he'll
gin her a all-fired lot of trials and tribulation."