lf up with a certain dignity, partly new to him, and
partly the result of his condition, and staggered, somewhat bruised and
disheveled, to the nearest saloon. Here a few frequenters who had
seen him pass, who knew his errand and the devotion to Polly which had
induced it, exhibited a natural concern.

"How's things down at the gospel shop?" said one. "Look as ef you'd been
wrastlin' with the Sperit, Jack!"

"Old man must hev exhorted pow'ful," said another, glancing at his
disordered Sunday attire.

"Ain't be'n hevin' a row with Polly? I'm told she slings an awful left."

Jack, instead of replying, poured out a dram of whiskey, drank it,
and putting down his glass, leaned heavily against the counter as he
surveyed his questioners with a sorrow chastened by reproachful dignity.

"I'm a stranger here, gentlemen," he said slowly "ye've known me only a
little; but ez ye've seen me both blind drunk and sober, I reckon ye've
caught on to my gin'ral gait! Now I wanter put it to you, ez fair-minded
men, ef you ever saw me strike a parson?"

"No," said a chorus of sympathetic voices. The barkeeper, however, with
a swift recollection of Polly and the Reverend Withholder, and some
possible contingent jealousy in Jack, added prudently, "Not yet."

The chorus instantly added reflectively, "Well, no not yet."

"Did ye ever," continued Jack solemnly, "know me to cuss, sass,
bully-rag, or say anything agin parsons, or the church?"

"No," said the crowd, overthrowing prudence in curiosity, "ye never
did,--we swear it! And now, what's up?"

"I ain't what you call 'a member in good standin','" he went on,
artistically protracting his climax. "I ain't be'n convicted o' sin;
I ain't 'a meek an' lowly follower;' I ain't be'n exactly what I orter
be'n; I hevn't lived anywhere up to my lights; but is thet a reason why
a parson should strike me?"

"Why? What? When did he? Who did?" asked the eager crowd, with one
voice.

Jack then painfully related how he had been invited by the Reverend
Mr. Withholder to attend the Bible class. How he had arrived early,
and found the church empty. How he had taken a seat near the door to
be handy when the parson came. How he just felt "kinder kam and good,"
listenin' to the flies buzzing, and must have fallen asleep,--only he
pulled himself up every time,--though, after all, it warn't no crime to
fall asleep in an empty church! How "all of a suddent" the parson came
in, "give him a clip side o'