hey tell you, and thank the
Lord 't ain't any worse. If you git the second kind, jest let 'em put
the blinders on you and trot as straight as you know how, without shying
nor kickin' over the traces, nor bolting 'cause they've got control o'
the bit and 't ain't no use fightin' ag'in' their superior strength.--So
fur as you can judge, in the early stages o' the game, my son,--which
ain't very fur,--which kind have you picked out?"

Cephas whittled on for some moments without a word, but finally, with a
sigh drawn from the very toes of his boots, he responded gloomily,--

"She's awful spunky, the girl is, anybody can see that; but she's a
young thing, and I thought bein' married would kind o' tame her down!"

"You can see how much marriage has tamed your mother down," observed
Uncle Bart dispassionately; "howsomever, though your mother can't be
called tame, she's got her good p'ints, for she's always to be counted
on. The great thing in life, as I take it, Cephas, is to know exactly
what to expect. Your mother's gen'ally credited with an onsartin
temper, but folks does her great injustice in so thinking for in a long
experience I've seldom come across a temper less onsartin than your
mother's. You know exactly where to find her every mornin' at sun-up and
every night at sundown. There ain't nothin' you can do to put her out
o' temper, cause she's all out aforehand. You can jest go about your
reg'lar business 'thout any fear of disturbin' her any further than
she's disturbed a'ready, which is consid'rable. I don't mind it a mite
nowadays, though, after forty years of it. It would kind o' gall me to
keep a stiddy watch of a female's disposition day by day, wonderin'
when she was goin' to have a tantrum. A tantrum once a year's an awful
upsettin' kind of a thing in a family, my son, but a tantrum every
twenty-four hours is jest part o' the day's work." There was a moment's
silence during which Uncle Bart puffed his pipe and Cephas whittled,
after which the old man continued: "Then, if you happen to marry a
temper like your mother's, Cephas, look what a pow'ful worker you
gen'ally get! Look at the way they sweep an' dust an' scrub an' clean!
Watch 'em when they go at the dish-washin', an' how they whack the
rollin'-pin, an' maul the eggs, an' heave the wood int' the stove, an'
slat the flies out o' the house! The mild and gentle ones enough, will
be settin' in the kitchen rocker read-in' the almanac when there ain't
no woo