Harriet Prescott Spofford

“ He didn' like Lisha no way, an' he warn't goin' ter hev him merryin' me, an' he was goin' ter show him up fer an unbeliever an' hev him hauled over the coals. 'Hear him!' he cries to the elder. 'Hear this feller a-denyin' the fundermentle princerples o' religion. He don' believe thet the's some folks foredoomed frum all eternity—'
" 'No, I don't,' ses Lisha. 'An' I don't believe in the damnation o' babies.'
" 'Nor of anybody else!' cries out Jeff.
" 'Nor of anybody else,' says Lisha.
" 'He don't believe in an angry an' offended God—'
" 'No, I don't,' ses Lisha. ”

“ I see Dolly an' Betsey an' sister Sally, who'd a ben settin' in the door behind me, all give a start, an' then stop, an' then of a sudden, an' in a minnit, jes 's ef 'twas now or never, they all come runnin' ter where I was. 'We b'lieve jest 's Lisha doos,' they ses, ses they, es solemn like es ef they was on public trial. An' nobody spoke. An' it seemed ter me 'twas time for sun-up afore the elder cleared his throat. 'Brother,' ses the elder to Jeff, 'the fundermentle princerple o' religion isn't hate. It's love. ”

“ I s'pose it's erlong o' my gittin' tangled in thet vine in the swamp where I'd run down fer some sassafras sticks, an' he come by drivin' the w'ite heifer thet stole her calf. An' I see him a-comin', an' tried ter git quit o' the vine an' on'y got tangled more, tel I was twisted ev'ey which way 'ith the blows, an' there come a gret bumbly-bee a-buzzin' an' a-boomin' inter the flowers an' a-bangin' agin my face. An' I was all in a shiver,—I never could abide the bumbly-bees—an' I screamed. 'He teks it fer one o' the flowers,' ses Lisha, ses he, leavin' the cow. ”

“ I was all twisted roun' in a bush of it w'en it fust come ter Lisha thet mebbe I was pretty. I like ter hev Lisha think I'm pretty. An' I be pretty," chirped the little old woman, whose withered face was a woven work of lines, and whose purblind eyes were sunken in their pits. "An' the' ain't many young men like Lisha, fer all o' Jeff. They useter say the' was Injun in thet blood, he was thet tall an' stret, an' his eyes like black coals 'ith the fire in them. ”

“ Perhaps the shock of the cold water quenched some of the fire in that hot brain. They swam out, and climbed the shore. "Good Lord, Tom Brier," said Humphrey, "keep your mouth shet! The' ain't nothin'—ben kinder het up worryin' by spells. I do' know's I think a feller thet has them spells hed oughter marry Sally. Now, do you think he hed?"
"No," said Tom, "no."
Humphrey stopped, all dripping as he was. "That's because you want her yourself!" he cried fiercely.
"I'll make a bargain with you," said Tom. "Ef you'll stan' off, I will."
"An' let another man hev my Sally fer his wife?" ”

“ There'll be a dretfle goin' in the mulberries ef I stay away frum meetin'."
"I guess we won't hurry," one sitting on the doorstone heard Sally's soft voice say.
"Be you expectin' anybody, Sally?" asked the grandmother in a puzzled tone.
"Be I? Oh, no, indeed, gran'ma'am, not any more. Oh, no." And the voice was so low and tired that the chair-bound old woman paused a moment, considering it, before she said, "All het up, you be. Go an' set down in the door an' git cooled off afore we start. An' fetch me in a bit o' the sweetbrier. ”