said the artist.

"It's comf'tabul," assented Uncle William. "You get your livin' as you
go along, and a little suthin' over. Seems 's if some folks didn't even
get a livin' they're so busy doing things."

He was silent for a while, his blue eyes following the light on the
water. "The' was a man I sailed with once,--a cur'us sort o' chap,--and
when he wa'n't sober he could tell you interestin' things. He hadn't
been a sailor al'ays--took to it 'cause he liked it, he said. And he
tol' me a good deal about the goings-on of the earth. Like enough 't
wa'n't so--some on it--but it was interestin'. He told me 't the earth
was all red-hot once, and cooled off quicker on the outside--like a hot
pertater, I s'pose. You've heard about it?" He looked inquiringly at the
artist.

The artist nodded. "Yes."

"Well, I've thought about that a good many times when I've been sailin'.
I could see it all, jest the way he put it, the earth a-whirlin' and
twirlin', and the fire and flames a-shootin' up to the sky, and rocks
and stones and stuff a'b'ilin' and flyin'--" Uncle William's eye dwelt
lovingly on the picture. "I'd seem to see it all jest the way he tol'
it, and then I'd put my hand out over the side of the boat and trail
it along in the water to cool off a little." Uncle William chuckled.
"Sometimes it seems 's if you'd come a million miles all in a
minute--rocks all along the shore, good hard rocks 't you could set on,
and the hill up to the sky with grass on it, green and soft, and the
water all round. It a'most takes your breath away to come back like that
from that red-hot ball he talked about and see it all lyin' there, so
cool and still, and the sun shinin' on it. I got to thinkin' 'bout it,
days when I was sailin', and wondering if mebbe the Lord wa'n't gettin'
_folks_ ready jest the way he did the rocks--rollin' 'em over and havin'
'em pound each other and claw and fight and cool off, slow-like,
till byme-by they'd be good sweet earth and grass and little
flowers--comf'tabul to live with."

The artist sat up. "Do you mean to say you wouldn't stop folks fighting
if you could?"

Uncle William eyed the proposition. "Well I dunno's I'd say jest _that_.
I've thought about it a good many times. Men al'ays _hev_ fit and I
reckon they _will_--quite a spell yet. There's Russia and Japan now: you
couldn't 'a' stopped them fightin' no more'n two boys that had got at
it. All them Russians and them little Japs--we couldn't 'a' sto