believe she used to open the Bible at random, and take the first name
she happened to come across. There are eight of us, and nary a decent
name in the lot. My oldest brother's name is Abimelech. Then there's
Pharaoh, and Ishmael, and Jonadab, for the boys, and Leah and Naomi, for
the girls; but my name beats all. You couldn't guess it?"

Paul shook his head.

"I don't believe you could," said the pedler, shaking his head in comic
indignation. "It's Jehoshaphat. Ain't that a respectable name for the
son of Christian parents?"

Paul laughed.

"It wouldn't be so bad," continued the pedler, "if my other name was
longer; but Jehoshaphat seems rather a long handle to put before Stubbs.
I can't say I feel particularly proud of the name, though for use it'll
do as well as any other. At any rate, it ain't quite so bad as the name
mother pitched on for my youngest sister, who was lucky enough to die
before she needed a name."

"What was it?" inquired Paul, really curious to know what name could be
considered less desirable than Jehoshaphat.

"It was Jezebel," responded the pedler.

"Everybody told mother 'twould never do; but she was kind of
superstitious about it, because that was the first name she came to
in the Bible, and so she thought it was the Lord's will that that name
should be given to the child."

As Mr. Stubbs finished his disquisition upon names, there came in sight
a small house, dark and discolored with age and neglect. He pointed this
out to Paul with his whip-handle.

"That," said he, "is where old Keziah Onthank lives. Ever heard of him?"

Paul had not.

"He's the oldest man in these parts," pursued his loquacious companion.
"There's some folks that seem a dyin' all the time, and for all that
manage to outlive half the young folks in the neighborhood. Old Keziah
Onthank is a complete case in p'int. As long ago as when I was cutting
my teeth he was so old that nobody know'd how old he was. He was so
bowed over that he couldn't see himself in the looking-glass unless you
put it on the floor, and I guess even then what he saw wouldn't pay
him for his trouble. He was always ailin' some way or other. Now it was
rheumatism, now the palsy, and then again the asthma. He had THAT awful.

"He lived in the same tumble-down old shanty we have just passed,--so
poor that nobody'd take the gift of it. People said that he'd orter go
to the poorhouse, so that when he was sick--which was pretty much all
the tim