ome,' sais he. And when he hears that them as are in had better stay in
when they be there, he takes the hint and goes back agin. 'Come, boys,
let's go to Black Stump Swamp and sarch for honey. We shall be back
in time to walk home with the galls from night meetin', by airly
candle-light. Let's go.'

"Well, when they want to recruit the stock of tame ones inside meetin',
they sarcumvent some o' these wild ones outside; make a dash on 'em,
catch 'em, dip 'em, and give 'em a name; for all sects don't always
baptise 'em as we do, when children, but let 'em grow up wild in the
herd till they are wanted. They have hard work to break 'em in, for they
are smart ones, that's a fact, but, like the hosses of Sable Island,
they have always _an eye to natur'_ arterwards; _the change is too
sudden_, you can't trust 'em, at least I never see one as _I_ could,
that's all.

"Well, when they come out o' meetin', look at the dignity and sanctity,
and pride o' humility o' the tame old ones. Read their faces. 'How does
the print go?' Why this way, 'I am a sinner, at least I was once,
but thank fortin' I ain't like you, you onconverted, benighted,
good-for-nothin' critter you.' Read the ontamed one's face, what's the
print there? Why it's this. As soon as he sees over-righteous stalk by
arter that fashion, it says, 'How good we are, ain't we? Who wet his hay
to the lake tother day, on his way to market, and made two tons weigh
two tons and a half? You'd better look as if butter wouldn't melt in
your mouth, hadn't you, old Sugar-cane?'

"Now jist foller them two rulin' elders, Sourcrout and Coldslaugh; they
are plaguy jealous of their neighbour, elder Josh Chisel, that exhorted
to-day. 'How did you like Brother Josh, to-day?' says Sourcrout, a
utterin' of it through his nose. Good men always speak through the nose.
It's what comes out o' the mouth that defiles a man; but there is no
mistake in the nose; it's the porch of the temple that. 'How did you
like Brother Josh?'

"'Well, he wasn't very peeowerful.'

"'Was he ever peeowerful?'

"'Well, when a boy, they say he was considerable sum as a wrastler.'

"Sourcrout won't larf, because it's agin rules; but he gig goggles like
a turkey-cock, and says he, 'It's for ever and ever the same thing with
Brother Josh. He is like an over-shot mill, one everlastin' wishy-washy
stream.'

"'When the water ain't quite enough to turn the wheel, and only
spatters, spatters, spatters,' says Coldslau