“Yes; but Jonas—­” said Cynthy, bewildered.

“And I see a few days arterwards a Englishman with a humbug-fly onto his line, a foolin’ the poor, simple-hearted little fishes into swallerln’ a book that hadn’t nary sign of a ginowine bait onto it.  An’ I says, says I, What a deceitful thing the human heart is!”

“Why, Jonas, you’d make a preacher!” said Cynthy Ann, touched with the fervor of his utterance, and inly resolved never to set up another scarecrow.

“Not much, my dear.  But then, you see, I make distinctions.  Ef I was to see a wolf a-goin’ to eat a lamb, what would I do?  Why, I’d skeer or fool him with the very fust thing I could find.  Wouldn’ you, honey?”

“In course,” said Cynthy Ann.

“And so, when I seed a wolf or a tiger or a painter, like that air ’Umphreys, about to gobble up fortins, and to do some harm to Gus, maybe, I jest rigged up a skeercrow of words, like a ole hat and coat stuck onto a stick, and run him off.  Any harm done, my dear?”

“Well, no, Jonas; I ruther ’low not.”

Whether Jonas’s defense was good or not, I can not say, for I do not know.  But he is entitled to the benefit of it.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

JONAS TAKES AN APPEAL

Jonas had waited for the coming of the quarterly meeting to carry his appeal to the presiding elder.  The quarterly meeting for the circuit was held at the village of Brayvllle, and beds were made upon the floor for the guests who crowded the town.  Every visiting Methodist had a right to entertainment, and every resident Methodist opened his doors very wide, for Western people are hospitable in a fashion and with a bountifulness unknown on the eastern side of the mountains.  Who that has not known it, can ever understand the delightfulness of a quarterly meeting?  The meeting of old friends—­the social life—­is all but heavenly.  And then the singing of the old Methodist hymns, such as

     “Oh! that will be joyful! 
       Joyful! joyful! 
     Oh! that will be joyful,
       To meet to part no more.”

And that other solemnly-sweet refrain: 

     “The reaping-time will surely come,
     And angels shout the harvest home!”

And who shall describe the joy of a Christian mother, when her scapegrace son “laid down the arms of his rebellion” and was “soundly converted”?  Let those sneer who will, but such moral miracles as are wrought in Methodist revivals are more wonderful than any healing of the blind or raising of the dead could be.

Jonas turned up, faithful to his promise, and called on the “elder” at the place where he was staying, and asked for a private interview.  He found the old gentleman exercising his sweet voice in singing,

“Come, let us anew
Our journey pursue,
Roll round with the year. 
And never stand still till the Master appear. 
His adorable will
Let us gladly fulfill,
And our talents improve
By the patience of hope and the labor of love.”