That took all the likin’ to lend out o’ me, ‘n’ Heaven help me ’f I ever forget it.  I thought I was so safe, Mrs. Lathrop,—­I looked in all four o’ his hoofs, ‘n’ swished my handkerchief in each o’ his eyes, ‘n’ he was certainly lively, so I planked down my little five dollars ‘n’ Sam was to keep on drivin’ the horse.  Well, you know ’s well ’s I do what happened, ‘n’ the skin brought seventy-five cents.  Sam sued the railroad, ‘n’ the railroad asked why he did n’t read the ’Look out for the Locomotive.’  I told him to go into court ‘n’ swear ’s he could n’t read, but he said Judge Fitch used to be his school-teacher ‘n’ knowed ’s he could.  ‘N’ then I offered to go to court myself ‘n’ swear on the Bible ’s the whole town looked on him ’s more ’n half a idiot, ‘n’ Mr. Duruy jus’ sat right flat down on the whole thing.  So they did n’t even pay his lawyer, ‘n’ it goes without sayin’ ‘t o’ course he could n’t pay me; ‘n’ then, do you know, Mrs. Lathrop, ’f he did n’t have the impudence this very afternoon to stop me down in the square ‘n’ ask me ’f I would n’t lend him ten cents on a rooster!  I was pretty nigh to put out over that, I c’n assure you.  I mus’ ‘a’ stared at him f’r ’s much ’s ten seconds afore I sensed ’t he was really fool enough to think ’t mebbe I was fool enough too.  ‘N’ then I let out at him.  ‘Not while I have the breath o’ life in my body,’ I says,—­’n’ it shook ’s I said it,—­’not ’f I know my own mind.  What’s to guarantee me,’ I says, ’’s your rooster won’t take it into his head to go a-promenadin’ on the railway track?’ I says.  He begin to tell ’s how, even dead, the rooster was worth more ’n ten cents.  ‘I d’n’ know about that,’ I says, ’it don’t strike me ’s noways likely ’t when he suddenly observes the engine ‘most on top o’ him, he’s goin’ to take the time ‘n’ trouble to lay his head square ‘n’ even across the rail, ‘n’ you know ’s well ’s I do ’t no rooster killed cornerways ain’t never goin’ to bring no nickel apiece for his corners.  No, Mister Sam Duruy,’ I says, ‘your lively horse’s taught me a lesson,’ I says, ‘’n’ hereafter I don’t lend no money on so much ’s a egg without I see a good curb-bit bought ‘n’ put in its mouth first,’ I says; ‘n’ then I walked off, ‘n’ the end o’ it all is ’t if Cousin Marion’s poor I certainly ain’t very wild to have her find out ’s I’m rich.

“But then, I ain’t very anxious to have her rich either, I must say, for it don’t take no blind man to figger out ’t if she ’s rich the money ’d ought to ‘a’ been mine.  ‘N’ that ‘s a awful feelin’, Mrs. Lathrop,—­the feelin’ ’s other folks ’s rich on money ’s ’d ought to ‘a’ been yours.  I ain’t sure ’s I want to know Cousin Marion ’f such ‘s the facts o’ her case, ‘n’ ‘s between her bein’ poor ‘n’ wantin’ money o’ me, ‘n’ her bein’ rich on money right out o’ my pocket, I feel like I mebbe clum that ladder this mornin’ in a evil hour f’r my future peace o’ mind.