The Man Who Stole A Meeting-House | Page 5

hour
longer; but she's the best woman in the world, after all you've done to
break her spirit, and I hate to leave her.'
"The old fellow squirmed, and wrenched the crowbar in the ground,
then snarled back: 'Yes! you're waitin' for me to die; then you mean to
step into my shoes.'
"'I hope you'll have a decenter pair than them you've got on, if I'm to
step into 'em,' says I.
"'One thing about it,' says he, 'she won't have ye.'
"'I should think,' says I, 'a woman that would marry you would have
'most anybody.'
"So we had it back and forth, till by and by he left me to throw off the
rails, and went to show the boys how to build the fence.
"'Look here,' says he; 'jest put a thunderin' big stun to each corner; then
lay your rail on; then drive your pair of stakes over it like a letter X.' He
drove a pair. 'Now put on your rider. There's your letter X, ridin' one
length of rails and carryin' another. That's what I call puttin' yer
alphabet to a practical use; and I say there a'n't no sense in havin' any
more education than ye can put to a practical use. I've larnin' enough to
git along in the world; and if my boys have as much as I've got, they'll
git along. Now work spry, for there comes Deacon Talcott.'

"'Wal, wall' says the Deacon, coming up, puffing with excitement;
'what ye doin' to the old meetin'-house?'
"'Wal,' says Jedwort, driving away at his stakes, and never looking up,
'I've been considerin' some time what I should do with't, and I've
concluded to make a barn on't.'
"'Make a barn! make a barn!' cries the Deacon. 'Who give ye liberty to
make a barn of the house of God?'
"'Nobody; I take the liberty. Why shouldn't I do what I please with my
own prop'ty?'
"'Your own property--what do you mean? 'Ta'n't your meetin'-house.'
"'Whose is't, if 'ta'n't mine?' says Jedwort, lifting his turtle's head from
between his horizontal shoulders, and grinning in the Deacon's face.
"'It belongs to the society,' says the Deacon.'
"'But the s'ciety's pulled up stakes and gone off.'
"'It belongs to individooals of the society--to individooals.'
"'Wal, I'm an individooal,' says Jedwort.
"'You! you never went to meetin' here a dozen times in your life!'
"'I never did have my share of the old meet-in'-house, that's a fact,' says
Jedwort; 'but I'll make it up now.'
"'But what are ye fencin' up the common for?' says the Deacon.
"'It'll make a good calf-pastur'. I've never had my share o' the vally o'
that, either. I've let my neighbors' pigs and critters run on't long enough;
and now I'm jest goin' to take possession o' my own.'
"'Your own!' says the Deacon, in perfect consternation. 'You've no deed
on't.'

"'Wal, have you?'
"'No--but--the society--'
"'The s'ciety, I tell ye,' says Jedwort, holding his head up longer than I
ever knew him to hold it up at a time and grinning all the while in
Tal-cott's face--'the s'ciety is split to pieces. There a'n't no s'ciety
now--any more'n a pig's a pig arter you've butchered and e't it. You've
e't the pig amongst ye, and left me the pen. The s'ciety never had a deed
o' this 'ere prop'ty; and no man never had a deed o' this e're prop'ty. My
wife's gran'daddy, when he took up the land here, was a good-natered
sort of man, and he allowed a corner on't for his neighbors to put up a
temp'rary meetin'-house. That was finally used up--the kind o' preachin'
they had them days was enough to use up in a little time any house that
wa'n't fire-proof; and when that was preached to pieces, they put up
another shelter in its place. This is it. And now't the land a'n't used no
more for the puppose 'twas lent for, it goes back nat'rally to the estate
'twas took from, and the buildin's along with it.'
"'That's all a sheer fabrication,' says the Deacon. 'This land was never a
part of what's now your farm, any more than it was a part of mine.'
"'Wal,' says Jedwort, 'I look at it in my way, and you've a perfect right
to look at it in your way. But I'm goin' to make sure o' my way, by
puttin' a fence round the hull concern.'
"'And you're usin' some of my rails for to do it with!' says the Deacon.
"'Can you swear they're your rails?'
"'Yes, I can; they're the rails the freshet carried off from my farm last
spring, and landed on to yourn.'
"'So I've heard ye say. But can you swear to the partic'lar rails? Can
you swear,