young painter met a small animal
with a striped back, in the woods. They exchanged compliments an'
suddenly the painter ran, shaking his head. As he came near his
own people, they all began to flee before him. He followed them
for days, an' every animal in the woods ran as he came near. By
an' by he stopped to rest. Then he looked down at himself an'
spat, sneeringly. When, after weeks o' travel, he was at length
admitted to the company of his kind, they sat in judgment on him.

"'Tell us,' said one, 'what evil hath befallen thee?'

"'Alas!' said the poor cat, 'I met a little creature with a striped
back.'

"'A little creature! an' thee so put about?' said another, with
great contempt.

"'Ay; but he hath a mighty talent,' said the sad painter. 'Let him
but stand before thee, an' he hath spoiled the earth, an' its
people, an' thou would'st even flee from thyself. But in fleeing
thou shalt think thyself on the way to hell.'"

For a moment Darrel shook with silent laughter. Then he rose and
put his pipe on the shelf.

"Well, I'd another chance to try the good law on him," said Darrel,
presently. "In July he fell sick o' fever, an' I delayed me trip
to nurse him. At length, when he was nearly well, an' I had come
to his home one evening, the widow Glover met me at his door.

"'If ye expect money fer comin' here, ye better go on 'bout yer
business,' Brooke shouted from the bedroom. 'I don't need ye any
more, an' I'll send ye a bushel o' potatoes by 'n by. Good day.'

"Not a word o' thanks!" the tinker exclaimed. "Wrath o' God! I
fear there is but one thing would soften him."

"And what is that?"

"A club," said Darrel. "But God forgive me! I must put away
anger. Soon it went about that Brooke was to marry the widow. All
were delighted, for each party would be in the nature of a
punishment. God's justice! they did deserve each other."

Darrel shook with happiness, and relighted his pipe.

"Mayhap ye've seen the dear lady," Darrel went on. "She is large,
bony, quarrelsome--a weaver of some fifty years--neither amiable
nor fair to look upon. Every one knows her--a survivor o' two
husbands an' many a battle o' high words.

"'Is it a case o' foreclosure, Brooke?' says I to him one day in
the road.

"'No, sor,' he snaps out; 'I had a little mortgage on her
furniture, but I'm going t' marry her for a helpmeet. She is a
great worker an' neat an' savin'.'

"'An' headstrong,' says I. 'Ye mu