"It's a long jaunt!" said he; "a long jaunt!"
"Thar's a long hill to climb before we reach Zion's mount," said Grandma
Keeler, impressively.
"Wall, there's a darned sight harder one on the road to West Wallen!"
burst out the old sea-captain desperately; "say nothin' about the
devilish stones!"
"Thar' now," said Grandma, with calm though awful reproof; "I think we've
gone fur enough for one day; we've broke the Sabbath, and took the name
of the Lord in vain, and that ought to be enough for perfessors."
Grandpa replied at length in a greatly subdued tone: "Wall, if you and
the teacher want to go over to Sunday school to-day, I suppose we can go
if we get ready," a long submissive sigh--"I suppose we can."
"They have preachin' service in the mornin', I suppose," said Grandma.
"But we don't generally git along to that. It makes such an early start.
We generally try to get around, when we go, in time for Sunday school.
They have singin' and all. It's just about as interestin', I think, as
preachin'. The old man ra'ly likes it," she observed aside to me; "when
he once gets started, but he kind o' dreads the gittin' started."
When I beheld the ordeal through which Grandpa Keeler was called to pass,
at the hands of his faithful consort, before he was considered in a fit
condition of mind and body to embark for the sanctuary, I marvelled not
at the old man's reluctance, nor that he had indeed seen clouds and
tempest fringing the horizon.
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