moment his head was
nodding with laughter that brought a great sense of relief to all of us.
In a slow, deliberate tone he began to speak:

'I was over t' Rat Tupper's t'other day,' said he, 'Rat was sitting with
me in the door yard. Purty soon a young chap came in, with a scythe,
and asked if he might use the grindstun. He was a new hired man from
somewhere near. He didn't know Rat, an' Rat didn't know him. So Rat o'
course had t' crack one o' his jokes.

'"May I use yer grindstun?" said the young feller.

'"Dunno," said Rat, "I'm only the hired man here. Go an' ask Mis'
Tupper."

'The ol' lady had overheard him an' so she says t' the young feller,
"Yes--ye can use the grindstun. The hired man out there'll turn it fer
ye."

'Rat see he was trapped, an' so he went out under the plum tree, where
the stun was, an' begun t' turn. The scythe was dull an' the young
feller bore on harder'n wuz reely decent fer a long time. Rat begun t'
git very sober lookin'.

'"Ain't ye 'bout done," said he.

'"Putty nigh," said the young feller bearin' down a leetle harder all
the time.

'Rat made the stun go faster. Putty soon he asked agin, "Ain't ye done
yit?"

'"Putty nigh!" says the other, feeling o' the edge.

'"I'm done," said Rat, an' he let go o' the handle. "I dunno 'bout the
scythe but I'm a good deal sharper'n I wuz."

'"You're the hired man here ain't ye?" said the young feller.

'"No, I ain't," said Rat. "'D rather own up t' bein' a liar than turn
that stun another minnit."

As soon as he was fairly started with this droll narrative the strain
of the situation was relieved. We were all laughing as much at his
deliberate way of narration as at the story itself.

Suddenly he turned to Elizabeth Brower and said, very soberly, 'Will you
bring me some water in a glass?'

Then he opened his chest of medicine, made some powders and told us how
to give them.

'In a few days I would take him into the big woods for a while,' he
said. 'See how it agrees with him.'

Then he gathered up his things and mother went with him to the gig.

Humour was one of the specifics of Doctor Bigsby. He was always a poor
man. He had a way of lumping his bills, at about so much, in settlement
and probably never kept books. A side of pork paid for many a long
journey. He came to his death riding over the hills one bitter day not
long after the time of which I write, to reach a patient.

The haying over, we made ready for our trip i