passionate terror of that sort is the
worst enemy of true piety.

"Fer my part," said Cynthy Ann, as she walked home with Jonas, "fer my
part, I don't believe none of his nonsense. John Wesley" (Jonas was a
New-Light, and Cynthy always talked to him about Wesley) "knowed a heap
more about Scripter than all the Hankinses and Millerses that ever was
born, and he knowed how to cipher, too, I 'low. Why didn't he say the
world was goin' to wind up? An' our persidin' elder is a heap better
instructed than Hankins, and he says God don't tell nobody when the
world's goin' to wind up."

"Goin' to run down, you mean, Cynthy Ann. 'Kordin' to Hankins it's a old
clock gin out in the springs, I 'low. How does Hankins know that
'Zek'el's livin' creeters means one thing more'n another? He talks about
them wheels as nateral as ef he was a wagon-maker fixin' a ole buggy. He
says the thing's a gone tater; no more craps of corn offen the bottom
land, no more electin' presidents of this free and glorious Columby, no
more Fourths, no more shootin' crackers nor spangled banners, no more
nothin'. He ciphers and ciphers, and then spits on his slate and wipes
us all out. Whenever Gabr'el blows I'll b'lieve it, but I won't take
none o' Hankins's tootin' in place of it. I shan't git skeered at no
tin-horns, and as for papaw whistles, why, I say Jericho wouldn't
a-tumbled for no sech music, and they won't fetch down no stars that
air way."

Here old Gottlieb Wehle, who had just joined the Millerites, came up.
"Yonas, you mags shport of de Piple. Ef dem vaces in der veels, and dem
awvool veels in der veels, and dem figures vot always says aideen
huntert vordy dree, ef dem tond mean sompin awvool, vot does dey mean?
mean? Hey?"

"My venerated friend and feller-citizen of forren birth," said Jonas,
"you hit the nail on the crown of the head squar, with the biggest sort
ov a sledge-hammer. You gripped a-holt of the truth that air time like
the American bird a-grippin' the arries on the shield. What do they
mean? That's jest the question, and you Millerites allers argies like
the man who warranted his dog to be a good coon-dog, bekase he warn't
good fer nothin' else under the amber blue. Now, my time-honored friend
and beloved German voter, jest let me tell you that _on the coon-dog
principle_ you could a-wound up the trade and traffic of this airth any
time. Fer ef they don't mean 1843, what do they mean? Why, 1842 or 1844,
of course. You don't c