resence, you
might see Uncle Abel's face slowly relax into an expression of solemn
satisfaction, and he would look at the author with a sort of quiet
wonder, as if it was past his comprehension how such a thing could ever
come into a man's head.

Uncle Abel, too, had some relish for the fine arts; in proof of which, I
might adduce the pleasure with which he gazed at the plates in his
family Bible, the likeness whereof is neither in heaven, nor on earth,
nor under the earth. And he was also such an eminent musician, that he
could go through the singing book at one sitting without the least
fatigue, beating time like a windmill all the way.

He had, too, a liberal hand, though his liberality was all by the rule
of three. He did by his neighbor exactly as he would be done by; he
loved some things in this world very sincerely: he loved his God much,
but he honored and feared him more; he was exact with others, he was
more exact with himself, and he expected his God to be more exact still.

Every thing in Uncle Abel's house was in the same time, place, manner,
and form, from year's end to year's end. There was old Master Bose, a
dog after my uncle's own heart, who always walked as if he was studying
the multiplication table. There was the old clock, forever ticking in
the kitchen corner, with a picture on its face of the sun, forever
setting behind a perpendicular row of poplar trees. There was the
never-failing supply of red peppers and onions hanging over the chimney.
There, too, were the yearly hollyhocks and morning-glories blooming
about the windows. There was the "best room," with its sanded floor, the
cupboard in one corner with its glass doors, the ever green asparagus
bushes in the chimney, and there was the stand with the Bible and
almanac on it in another corner. There, too, was Aunt Betsey, who never
looked any older, because she always looked as old as she could; who
always dried her catnip and wormwood the last of September, and began to
clean house the first of May. In short, this was the land of
continuance. Old Time never took it into his head to practise either
addition, or subtraction, or multiplication on its sum total.

This Aunt Betsey aforenamed was the neatest and most efficient piece of
human machinery that ever operated in forty places at once. She was
always every where, predominating over and seeing to every thing; and
though my uncle had been twice married, Aunt Betsey's rule and authority
ha