arent satisfaction in the society of
the child who worshipped him and his wife, has been a useful lesson to
me in my intercourse with the young. I had told Cousin Molly Belle, a
long time ago, that he "talked straight to children," with none of the
involved meanings and would-be humorous turns of speech with which some
grown-uppers diverted themselves and mystified us.

When he smiled at my well-mouthed, "Do you know, Cousin Frank, that your
bravery may have saved at least four lives--Cousin Molly Belle's, and
baby's, and Snap's, and mine?"--I felt that he was not laughing at me
inside, as the manner of some is.

"I don't know about that, Namesake." Nobody but himself and his wife was
allowed to call me that. They were one, you know. "All of you would
probably have got out of the way, except Snap. It _would_ have been a
great pity to have him bitten. But here is a wee bit of a thing that
could, and would, save a good many lives if people were as well
acquainted with it as they ought to be. I am surprised that it is so
little known in a part of the country where snakes abound as they do
about here."

He stooped to gather, and gave to me, some succulent sprigs from a plant
that grew in profusion along the branch running through the meadow.

"It is a cure for a snake-bite if bruised into a poultice and bound upon
the place soon after one is bitten. My father showed it to me a great
many years ago, when I was a little shaver, and told me how he had
learned about it from an old Indian herb-doctor. He tried it several
times for moccasin-and adder-and copperhead-bites among his servants,
and it was a cure in every instance. It grows on both sides of this
branch, and nowhere else that I know of on the plantation. My father was
an admirable botanist."

"So are you," said I, stoutly.

"Oh, no. As the saying is, his chips were worth more than my logs."

No law of nature is more nearly invariable than that Events are twins,
and often triplets. That very evening, after supper, Cousin Frank was on
his way from the stables to the house, and saw what he mistook for a
carriage whip lying in the walk. The moon was shining and he had no
doubt as to what the thing was when he stooped to pick it up. Before he
touched it, it made one swift writhe and dart and struck him on the
wrist.

Cousin Molly Belle was laying Carter in the cradle, the last note of her
lullaby upon her lips when her husband entered. He clutched his right
wrist