ct, an amiable disposition and a
swarthy, wrinkled face. She had a loose front tooth that occupied all
the leisure of her tongue. When she sat at her knitting this big tooth
clicked incessantly. On every stitch her tongue went in and out across
it' and I, standing often by her knees, regarded the process with great
curiosity.

The reader may gather much from these frank and informing words of
Grandma Bisnette. 'When I los' my man, Mon Dieu! I have two son. An'
when I come across I bring him with me. Abe he rough; but den he no bad
man.'

Abe was the butcher of the neighbourhood--that red-handed,
stony-hearted, necessary man whom the Yankee farmer in that north
country hires to do the cruel things that have to be done. He wore
ragged, dirty clothes and had a voice like a steam whistle. His rough,
black hair fell low and mingled with his scanty beard. His hands were
stained too often with the blood of some creature we loved. I always
crept under the bed in Mrs Brower's room when Abe came--he was such a
terror to me with his bloody work and noisy oaths. Such men were the
curse of the cleanly homes in that country. There was much to shock
the ears and eyes of children in the life of the farm. It was a fashion
among the help to decorate their speech with profanity for the mere
sound of it' and the foul mouthings of low-minded men spread like a
pestilence in the fields.

Abe came always with an old bay horse and a rickety buckboard. His one
foot on the dash, as he rode, gave the picture a dare-devil finish.
The lash of his bull-whip sang around him, and his great voice sent its
blasts of noise ahead. When we heard a fearful yell and rumble in the
distance, we knew Abe was coming.

'Abe he come,' said Grandma Bisnette. 'Mon Dieu! he make de leetle rock
fly.'

It was like the coming of a locomotive with roar of wheel and whistle.
In my childhood, as soon as I saw the cloud of dust, I put for the bed
and from its friendly cover would peek out' often, but never venture far
until the man of blood had gone.

To us children he was a marvel of wickedness. There were those who told
how he had stood in the storm one night and dared the Almighty to send
the lightning upon him.

The dog Fred had grown so old and infirm that one day they sent for Abe
to come and put an end to his misery. Every man on the farm loved the
old dog and not one of them would raise a hand to kill him. Hope and
I heard what Abe was coming to do, and whe