S'phira an' An'ias."

"_Who!_" asked his wife, pausing in her task of picking up chips. He had
spoken of them so familiarly that one might imagine they lived close by
in the cove.

"An'ias an' S'phira--them in the Bible ez war streck by lightnin' fur
lyin'," he explained.

"I 'member _her_," she said. "S'phia, I calls her."

"Waal, A'gusta, _S'phira_ do me jes ez well," he said, with the
momentary sulkiness of one corrected. "Thar war a man along, though. An'
'pears ter me thar war powerful leetle jestice in thar takin' off, ef
Roger Purdee be 'lowed ter stan' up thar in the face o' the meetin' an'
lie so ez no yearthly critter in the worl' could b'lieve him--'ceptin'
Brother Jacob Page, ez 'peared plumb out'n his head with religion, an'
got ter shoutin' when this Purdee tuk ter tellin' the law he read on
them rocks--Moses' tables, folks calls 'em--up yander in the mounting."

He nodded upward toward the great looming range above them. His house
was on a spur of the mountain, overshadowed by it; shielded. It was to
him the Almoner of Fate. One by one it doled out the days, dawning from
its summit; and thence, too, came the darkness and the glooms of night.
One by one it liberated from the enmeshments of its tangled wooded
heights the constellations to gladden the eye and lure the fancy. Its
largess of silver torrents flung down its slopes made fertile the little
fields, and bestowed a lilting song on the silence, and took a turn at
the mill-wheel, and did not disdain the thirst of the humble cattle. It
gave pasturage in summer, and shelter from the winds of the winter. It
was the assertive feature of his life; he could hardly have imagined
existence without "the mounting."

"Tole what he read on them rocks--yes, sir, ez glib ez swallerin' a
persimmon. 'Twarn't the reg'lar ten comman'ments--some cur'ous new
texts--jes a-rollin' 'em out ez sanctified ez ef he hed been called ter
preach the gospel! An' thar war Brother Eden Bates a-answerin' 'Amen'
ter every one. An' Brother Jacob Page: 'Glory, brother! Ye hev received
the outpourin' of the Sperit! Shake hands, brother!' An' sech ez that.
Ter hev hearn the commotion they raised about that thar derned lyin'
sinner ye'd hev 'lowed the meetin' war held ter glorify him stiddier the
Lord."

Job Grinnell himself was a most notorious Christian. Renown, however,
with him could never be a superfluity, or even a sufficiency, and he
grudged the fame that these strange spirit