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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 410 pages of information about Samantha at the World's Fair.

He wuz a double and twisted relation, as you may say, bein’ related to us on both our own sides, Josiah’s and mine.

But I had never sot eyes on him till that day, though I well remember visitin’ his parents, who lived then in the outskirts of Loontown—­good respectable Methodist Epospical people—­and runners of a cheese factory at that time.

Tryphenia Smith, relation on my side, married to Ezra Allen, relation on Josiah’s side.

I remember that I went there on a visit with my mother at a very early period of my existence.  I hadn’t existed at that time more’n nine years, if I had that.  We staid there on a stiddy stretch for a week; that wuz jest before they moved up to Maine.

Uncle Ezra had a splendid chance offered him there, and he fell in with it.

She wuz a dretful good creeter, Aunt Tryphenia wuz, and greatly beloved by the relations on his side, as well as hern.

Though, as is nateral with relations, she had to be run by ’em more or less, and found fault with.  Some thought her nose wuz too long.  Some on ’em thought she wuz too religious, and some on ’em thought she wuzn’t religious enough.  Some on ’em thought she wuzn’t sot enough on the creeds, and some thought she wuz too rigid.

But, howsumever, pretty nigh all the Allens and Smiths jest doted on her.

There wuz one incident that jest impressed itself on my memory in connection with that visit, and I don’t spoze I shall ever forgit it; it stands to reason that I should before now, if I ever wuz a-goin’ to.

It took place at family prayers, which they held regular at Uncle Ezra’s.

It wuz right in the hite of sugarin’.  They had more’n two hundred maple trees, and they had tapped ’em all, and they had run free, and they had to sugar off every day, and sometimes twice a day.

That mornin’ they had a big kettle of maple syrup over the stove, and Uncle Ezra and Aunt Tryphenia and mother wuz all a-kneelin’ down pretty nigh to the stove.  It wuz a cold mornin’, and I wuz a-settin’ with my little legs a-hangin’ off the chair a-watchin’ things, not at that age bein’ particular interested in religion.

Uncle Ezra made a long prayer, a tegus one, it seemed to me; it wuz so long that the kettle of sugar had het up fearful, and I see with deep anxiety that it wuz a-mountin’ up most to the top of the kettle.

Of course I dassent move to open the stove door, or stir it down, or anything—­no, I dassent make a move of any kind or a mite of noise in prayer time.  So I sot demute, but in deep anxiety, a-watchin’ it sizzle up higher and higher and then down agin, as is the way of syrup, but each time a sizzlin’ up a little higher.

Wall, finally Uncle Ezra got through with his prayer, and dear good Aunt Tryphenia begun hern.  She spoke dretful kinder moderate, but religious and good as anything could be.

I well remember what it wuz she wuz sayin’—­

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