“‘He is here, my friend,’ said the man.  ’He’s here, though you can’t see Him.  He ain’t got nothin’ to make out of you:  neither have I:  so you needn’t be afraid to take my word for it.  I’ll tell you some of the things he said.’  Then he read me a lot of things that did make me feel lots better.  Why, Nan, that man Jesus was so sorry for men in jail that He went back on some high-toned folks that didn’t visit ’em:  just think of that!

“After a while the man said, ‘You seem to be feelin’ better.’

“‘So I am,’ said I.

“‘Then believe in him,’ says he, ‘an’ you’ll feel better always.’

“‘I’ve been told that before,’ says I, ‘but I don’t know how.’

“The man looked kind o’ puzzled like, an’ at last says he,—­

“‘What’s yer politics?’

“‘I’m a Jackson Democrat,’ says I.

“‘All right,’ says he, ‘but Andrew Jackson’s dead, ain’t he?’

“‘So I’ve heerd,’ said I.

“‘But you still believe in him?’ says he.

“‘Of course,’ said I.

“‘Well,’ says he, ’just believe in Jesus like you do in Andrew Jackson, and you’ll be all right in the course of time.  Believe that what He said was true, an’ get your mind full of what He said, an’ keep it full, remindin’ yourself over an’ over again for fear you forget it or other things’ll put it out of your mind, an’ you’ll be happier while you’re in jail, an’ you won’t get back here again, nor in any other jail, after you’ve been let out.’

“Well, that was encouragin’, for I didn’t want to get in no jails no more.  When the man went away he left me a little book that didn’t have nothin’ in it but things Jesus Himself said.  I read it lots; some of it I didn’t understand, an’ I can’t get it through my head yet, but what I did get done me so much good that I found myself kind o’ changin’ like, an’ I’ve been changin’ ever since.  Nan, I want you to read it too, an’ see if it don’t do you good.  We ain’t been what we ought to be; it’s all my fault.  The children ain’t had no show; that’s all my fault too, but it’ll take all that two of us can do to catch up with ’em.  I want you to be always ‘side o’ me, Nan.”

“We can’t let ’em starve,” said the wife; “an’ if what you’re believin’ is goin’ to keep you from pickin’ up a livin’ for ’em when you get a chance, what are we goin’ to do?”

“I’m goin’ to work,” said Sam.

“Sho!  You never done three days’ work hand-runnin’ in your life.”  Then Mrs. Kimper gave a hard laugh.

“I’ve done it over two years now, an’ I guess I can keep on, if I get the chance.  I can stick to it if you’ll back me up, Nan.”

“There ain’t much to me nowaday,” said Mrs. Kimper, after a moment or two of blank staring as she held her chin in her hands and rested her elbows on her knees.  “Once I had an idee I was about as lively as they make ’em, but things has knocked it out of me,—­a good many kind of things.”