“O Lord, let us be tried as by fire and not be moved”—­I remember she said moved instead of moved, which wuz impressive to me, never havin’ hearn it pronounced that way before.

And jest as she said this over went the sugar onto the stove, and Aunt Tryphenia and Uncle Ezra jest jumped right up and went and lifted the kettle offen the stove.

I remember well how kinder bewildered and curious mother looked when she opened her eyes and see that the prayer wuz broke right short off.  Aunt Tryphenia looked meachin’, and Uncle Ezra put his hat right on and went out to the barn.

It wuz dretful embarrissin’ to him and Aunt Tryphenia.  But then I don’t know as they could have helped it.

I remember hearin’ Father and Mother arguin’ about it.  Father thought she done right, but Mother wuz kinder of the opinion that she ort to have run the prayer right on and let the sugar spile if necessary.

But I remember Father’s arguin’ that he didn’t believe her prayer would have been very lucid or fervent, with all that batch of sugar a-sizzlin’ and a-burnin’ right by the side of her.

I remember that he said that a prayer wouldn’t be apt to ascend much higher than where one’s hopes and thoughts wuz, and he didn’t believe it would go up much higher than that kettle. (The stove wuz the common height, not over four feet.)

But Mother held to her own opinion, and so did a good many of the relations, mostly females.  It wuz talked over quite a good deal amongst the Smiths.  The wimmen all blamed Tryphenia more or less.  The men mostly approved of savin’ the sugar.

But good land! how I am eppisodin’, and to resoom and go on.

As I say, it wuz jest after this that Uncle Ezra’s folks moved up to Maine, Christopher Columbus bein’ still onborn for years and years.

But bein’ born in due time, or ruther as I may say out of due time, for Uncle Ezra and Aunt Tryphenia had been married over twenty years before they had a child, and then they branched out and had two, and then stopped—­

But bein’ born at last and growin’ up to be a good-lookin’ young man and well-to-do in the world, he come out to Jonesville on business and also to foller up the ties of relationship that wuz stretched out acrost hill and dale clear from Maine to Jonesville.

Strange ties, hain’t they? that are so little that they are invisible to the naked eye, or spectacles, or the keenest microscope, and yet are so strong and lastin’ that the strongest sledge-hammer can’t break ’em or even make a dent into ’em.

And old Time himself, that crumbles stun work and mountains, can’t seem to make any impression on ’em.  Curious, hain’t it?

But to leave moralizin’ and to resoom, it was on Friday, P.M., that he arrove at our home.

I see a good-lookin’ young chap a-comin’ up the path from the front gate with my Josiah, and I hastily but firmly turned my apron the other side out—­I had been windin’ some blue yarn that day for some socks for my Josiah, and had colored it a little—­it wuz a white apron—­and then I waited middlin’ serene till he come in with him.