"Oh!" sez Josiah, "I didn't think! I guess I have cried in the wrong place."

Sez I coldly, "I should think as much."

And Josiah put on his hat and hurried out. He meant well. But it is quite a nack for pardners to know jest when to cry, and when to laff.

Wall, he follered up that spring, and drinked more, fur more than wuz good for him of that water. And then anon, he would hear of another one, and some dretful big story about it, and he would foller that up, and so it went on, he a follerin' on, and I a bein' megum, and drinkin' stiddy, but moderate. And as it might be expected, I gained in health every day, and every hour. For the waters is good, there haint no doubt of it.

But Josiah takin' em as he did, bobbin' round from one to the other, drinkin' 'em at all hours of day and night, and floodin'

himself out with 'em, every one on 'em -- why, he lost strength and health every day, till I felt truly, that if it went on much longer, I should go home in weeds. Not mullein, or burdock, or anything of that sort, but c.r.a.pe.

But at last a event occurred that sort a sot him to thinkin' and quelled him down some. One day we sot out for a walk, Josiah and Ardelia Tutt and me. And in spite of all my protestations, my pardner had drinked 11 gla.s.ses full of the spring he wuz a follerin' then. And he looked white round the lips as anything.

And Ardelia and I wuz a sittin' in a good shady place, and Josiah a little distance off, when a man ackosted him, a man with black eyes and black whiskers, and sez, "You look pale, Sir. What water are you a drinkin'?"

And Josiah told him that at that time he wuz a drinkin' the water from the Immortal spring.

"Drinkin' that water?" sez the man, startin' back horrefied.

"Yes," sez Josiah, turnin' paler than ever, for the man's looks wuz skairful in the extreme.

"Oh! oh!" groaned the man. "And you are a married man?" he groaned out mournfully, a lookin' pitifully at him. "With a family?"

"Yes," sez Josiah, faintly.

"Oh dear," sez the man, "must it be so, to die, so -- so lamented?"

"To die!" sez Josiah, turnin' white jest round the lip.

"Yes, to die! Did you not say you had been a drinkin' the water from the Immortal spring?"

"Yes," sez Josiah.

"Wall, it is a certain, a deadly poison."

"Haint there no help for me?" sez Josiah.

"Yes," sez the man, "You must drink from the Live-forever spring, at the other end of the village. That water has the happy effect of neutralizin' the poisons of the Immortal spring. If anything can save you that can. Why," sez he, "folks that have been entirely broke down, and made helpless and hopeless invalids, them that have been brung down on their death-beds by the use of that vile Immortal water, have been cured by a few gla.s.ses of the pure healin' waters of the Live-forever spring. I'd advise you for your own sake, and the sake of your family, who would mourn your ontimely decese, to drink from that spring at once."

"But," sez Josiah, with a agonized and hopeless look, "I can't drink no more now."

"Why?" sez the man.

"Because I don't hold any more. I don't hold but two quarts, and I have drinked 11 tumblers full now."

"Eleven gla.s.ses of that poison?" sez the man.

"Wall, if it is too late I am not to blame. I've warned you.

Farewell," sez he, a graspin' holt of Josiah's hand. "Farewell, forever. But if you do live," sez he, "if by a miricle you are saved, remember the Live-forever spring. If there is any help for you it is in them waters."

And he dashed away, for another stranger wuz approachin' the seen.

I, myself, didn't have no idee that Josiah wuz a goin' to die.

But Ardelia whispered to me, she must go back to the hotel, so she went. I see she looked kinder strange, and I didn't object to it. And when we got back she handed me some verses ent.i.tled:

"Stanzas on the death of Josiah Allen."

She handed 'em to me, and hastened away, quick. But Josiah Allen didn't die. And this incident made him more megum. More as I wanted him to be. Why, you have to be megum in everything, no matter how good it is. Milk porridge, or the Bible, or anything.

You can kill yourself on milk porridge if you drink enough. And you can set down and read the Bible, till you grow to your chair, and lose your eyesight.

Now these waters are dretful good, but you have got to use some megumness with 'em, it stands to reason you have. Taint megum to drink from 10 to 12 gla.s.ses at a time, and mix your drinks goin'

round from spring to spring like a luny. No; get a good doctor to tell you what minerals you seem to stand in need on the most, and then try to get 'em with fear and tremblin'. You'll get help I haint a doubt on't. For they are dretful good for varius things that afflict the human body. Dretful!

XVI.

AT A LAWN PARTY.

Wall, the very next mornin' Miss Flamm sent word for Josiah and me to come that night to a lawn party. And I sez at once, "I must go and get some lawn."

Sez Josiah, "What will you do with it?"

And I sez, "Oh, I s'pose I shall wrap it round me, I'll do what the rest do."

And sez Josiah, "Hadn't I ort to have some too? If it is a lawn party and everybody else has it, I shall feel like a fool without any lawn."

And I looked at him in deep thought, and through him into the causes and consequences of things, and sez I, "I s'pose you do ort to have a lawn necktie, or handkerchief, or sunthin'."

Sez he, "How would a vest look made out of it, a kinder sprigged one, light gay colors on a yaller ground-work?"

But I sez at once, "You never will go out with me, Josiah, with a lawn vest on." And I settled it right there on the spot.

Then he proposed to have some wrapped round his hat, sort a festooned. But I stood like marble aginst that idee. But I knew I had got to have some lawn, and pretty soon we sallied out together and wended our way down to where I should be likely to find a lawn store.

And who should we meet a comin' out of a store but Ardelia. Her 3d cousin had sent her over to get a ingregient for cookin'.

Good, willin' little creeter! She walked along with us for a spell. And while she wuz a walkin' along with us, we come onto a sight that always looked pitiful to me, the old female that wuz always a' sittin' there a singin' and playin' on a accordeun. And it seemed to me that she looked pitifuller and homblier than ever, as she sot there amongst the dense crowd that mornin' a singin'

and a playin'. Her tone wuz thin, thin as gauze, hombly gause too. But I wondered to myself how she wuz a feelin' inside of her own mind, and what voices she heard a speakin' to her own soul, through them hombly strains. And, ontirely unbeknown to myself, I fell into a short revery (short but deep) right there in the street, as I looked down on her, a settin' there so old, and patient and helpless, amongst the gay movin' throng.

And I wondered what did she see, a settin' there with her blind eyes, what did she hear through them hombly tones that she wuz a singin' day after day to a crowd that wuz indifferent to her, or despised her? Did she hear the song of the mornin', the spring time of life? Did the song of a lark come back to her, a lark flyin' up through the sweet mornin' sky over the doorway of a home, a lark watched by young eyes, two pairs of 'em, that made the seein' a blessedness? Did a baby's first sweet blunders of speech, and happy laughter come back to her, as she sot there a drawin' out with her wrinkled hands them miserable sounds from the groanin' instrument? Did home, love, happiness sound out to her, out of them hombly strains? I'd have gin a cent to know.

And I'd have gin a cent quick to know if the tread -- tread -- tread of the crowd goin' past her day after day, hour after hour, seems to her like the trample of Time a marchin' on. Did she hear in 'em the footsteps of child, or lover, or friend, a steppin'

away from her, and youth and happiness, and hope, a stiddy goin'

away from her?

Did she ever listen through the constant sound of them steps, listen to hear the tread of them feet that she must know wuz a comin' nigh to her -- the icy feet that will approach us, if their way leads over rocks or roses?

Did she hate to hear them steps a comin' nearer to her, or did she strain her ears to hear 'em, to welcome 'em? I thought like as not she did. For thinkses I to myself, and couldn't help it, if she is a Christian she must be glad to change that old accordeun for a harp of any size or shape. For mournfuller and more melancholy sounds than her voice and that instrument made I never hearn, nor ever expect to hear, and thin.