Chapter 28 - Page 2

township, one day had even tied his faithful hound to the rear
platform.

Our train came to a long stop for wood and water near midday, and
then we opened the lunch basket that mother had given us.

'Neighbour,' said a solemn-faced man, who sat in front of us, 'do
you think the cars are ag'in the Bible? D'you think a Christian orter
ride on 'em?'

'Sartin,' said Uncle Eb. 'Less the constable's after him - then I think
he orter be on a balky hoss.'

'Wife'n I hes talked it over a good deal,' said the man. 'Some says
it's ag'in the Bible. The minister 'at preaches over 'n our
neighbourhood says if God hed wanted men t' fly he'd g'in 'em
wings.'

'S'pose if he'd ever wanted 'm t' skate he'd hed 'em born with skates
on?' said Uncle Eb.

'Danno,' said the man. 'It behooves us all to be careful. The Bible
says "Go not after new things."'

'My friend,' said Uncle Eb, between bites of a doughnut, 'I don'
care what I ride in so long as 'tain't a hearse. I want sumthin' at's
comfortable an' purty middlin' spry. It'll do us good up here t' git
jerked a few hunderd miles an' back ev'ry leetle while. Keep our
j'ints limber. We'll live longer fer it, an' thet'll please God sure -
cuz I don't think he's hankerin' fer our society - not a bit. Don'
make no difference t' him whuther we ride 'n a spring wagon er on
the cars so long's we're right side up 'n movin'. We need more
steam; we're too dum slow. Kind o' think a leetle more steam in
our religion wouldn't hurt us a bit. It's purty fur behind.'

We got to Albany in the evening, just in time for the night boat.
Uncle Eb was a sight in his dusty broadcloth, when we got off the
cars, and I know my appearance could not have been prepossessing.
Once we were aboard the boat and had dusted our clothes and bathed
our hands and faces we were in better spirits.

'Consarn it!' said Uncle Eb, as we left the washroom, 'le's have a
durn good supper. I'll stan' treat.'

'Comes a leetle bit high,' he said, as he paid the bill, 'but I don' care
if it does. 'Fore we left I says t' myself, "Uncle Eb," says I, "you go
right in fer a good time an' don' ye count the pennies. Everybody's
a right t' be reckless once in seventy-five year."'

We went to our stateroom a little after nine. I remember the berths
had not been made up, and removing our boots and coats we lay
down upon the bare mattresses. Even then I had a lurking fear that
we might be violating some rule of steamboat etiquette. When I
went to New York before I had dozed all night in the big cabin.

A dim light came through the shuttered door that opened upon the
dinning-saloon where the rattle of dishes for a time put away the