ness
that brings the frost and causes the trees to unclasp their countless
shells, barks, and burrs, and let the ripe nuts fall.

The school-room filled with earnest faces early in the evening. The
people came over from Gentryville, among them Mr. Gentry himself and Mr.
Jones the store-keeper. Women brought tallow dips for lights, and
curious candlesticks and snuffers.

Aunt Indiana and Josiah Crawford came together, an imposing-looking
couple, who brought with them the air of special sense and wisdom. Aunt
Indiana wore a bonnet of enormous proportions, which distinguished her
from the other women, who wore hoods. She brought in her hand a brass
candlestick, which the children somehow associated with the ancient
Scripture figures, and which looked as though it might have belonged to
the temples of old. She was tall and stately, and the low room was too
short for her soaring bonnet, but she bent her head, and sat down near
Josiah Crawford, and set the candle in the shining candlestick, and cast
a glance of conscious superiority over the motley company.

The moderator rapped for order and stated the question for debate, and
made some inspiring remarks about "parliamentary" rules. John Short
opened the debate with a plea for independence of character, and
self-respect and personal liberty.

"What would you think," he asked, "of a man who would come to you _in
the night_ and ask you to sign a paper not to lie any more? What? You
would think that he thought you had been lying. Would you sign that
paper? No! You would call out the dogs of retribution, and take down
your father's sword, and you would uplift your foot into the indignant
air, and protect your family name and honor. Who would be called a liar,
in a cowardly way like that? And who would be called a drunkard, by
being asked to sign the paper of a tee-totaler? Who?"

Here John Short paused. He presently said:

"Hoo?"--which sounded in the breathless silence like the inquiries of
an owl. But his ideas had all taken wings again and left him, as on the
occasion when he attempted to preach without notes or preparation.

Aunt Indiana looked distressed. She leaned over toward Josiah Crawford,
and said:

"Say somethin'."

But Josiah hesitated. Then, to the great amusement of all, Aunt Indiana
rose to the ceiling, bent her generously bonneted head, stretched forth
her arm, and said:

"He is quite right--quite right, Josiah. Is he not, Josiah?"

"Quite right,"