ad I'd come; I felt that easy an' wholesome.
Say, the meetin's dead gut stuff. Yes, sir--dead gut. I felt I'd never
handle a gun again; I couldn't 'a' blasphemed 'longside a babby ef
you'd give me ten dollars to try. An' I guess ther' wa'n't no dirty
Greaser as I couldn't ha' loved like a brother, I wus that soothed,
an' peaceful, an' saft feelin'. I jest took a chaw o' plug, an' sat
back an' watched them folks lookin' so noble as they come along in
the'r funeral kids an' white chokers. Then the deac'n got good an'
goin', an' I got right on to the 'A-mens,' fetchin' 'em that easy I
wished I'd never done nothin' else all my life. I set ther' feelin'
real happy."

Arizona paused, and his wild eyes softened as his thoughts went back
to those few happy moments of his chequered career. Then he heaved a
deep sigh of regret and went on--

"But it wa'n't to last. No, sir, religion ain't fer the likes o' me.
Ye can't play the devil an' mix wi' angels. They're bound to out you.
Et's on'y natteral. Guess I'd bin chawin' some, an' ther' wa'n't no
spit boxes. That's wher' the trouble come. Ther' wus a raw-boned cuss
wi' his missis settin' on the bench front o' me, an' I guess her silk
fixin's got mussed up wi' t'bacca juice someways. I see her look down
on the floor, then she kind o' gathered her skirts aroun' her an' got
wipin' wi' her han'k'chief. Then she looks aroun' at me, an', me
feelin' friendly, I kind o' smiled at her, not knowin' she wus riled.
Then she got whisperin' to her wall-eyed galoot of a man, an' he turns
aroun' smart, an' he sez, wi' a scowl, sez he, 'The meetin'-house
ain't no place fer chawin' hunks o' plug, mister; wher' wus you
dragged from?' Ther' wus a nasty glint to his eye. But ef he wus goin'
to fergit we wus in the meetin'-house I meant showin' him I wa'n't. So
I answers him perlite. Sez I, wi' a smile, 'Sir,' sez I, 'I take it we
ain't from the same hog trough.' I see he took it mean, but as a
feller got up from behind an' shouts 'Silence,' I guessed things would
pass over. But that buzzard-headed mule wus cantankerous. He beckons
the other feller over an' tells him I wus chawin', an' the other
feller sez to me: 'You can't chaw here, mussin' up the lady's
fixin's.'

"Wal, bein' on'y human, I got riled, but, not wishin' to raise a
racket, I spat my chew out. I don't know how it come, but, I guess,
bein' riled, I jest didn't take notice wher' I dumped it, till, kind
o' sudden-like, I found I wus insp