eef?"

"Yes," drawled the farmer.

"Eh, huh, eh, huh," nodded the tanner, "what did you do with the
carcass?"

"Oh, we found a market at home for it. We got a big family," replied the
farmer.

"Eh, huh" assented the tanner. Reaching over, he took up the slate,
rubbed out Alfred's figures, figured the hide at about two-thirds the
amount Alfred was about to pay the farmer.

To Alfred's surprise the farmer accepted the cut in price and hastily
took his leave. The tanner looked after him in a contemptuous manner,
turned to Alfred and inquired if he knew the farmer.

Alfred answered: "Yes, he's a neighbor of my uncle. He belongs to the
Baptus Church and I heard the preacher say if God ever made an upright
man, he was one."

"Yes, yes," answered the tanner, "God made all men upright but a murn
hide will warp most of them."

A murn hide is one taken from an animal that dies of a disease. The
sensitive touch of the old tanner detected the diseased hide
immediately.

Alfred has applied this incident to many deals in his life and a murn
hide became one of his pet references to a crooked transaction. The tie
of friendship between Alfred and Sammy Steele lasted while the tanner
lived.

Sammy Steele had not acquired a fortune in all the years of his hard
labor. A skilled workman, he respected labor. No employe of his was ever
tricked out of his wages. He was as fair to the poor as to the rich and
both trusted him. In an uncouth world he was a gentleman; he bowed as
courteously to a wash-woman as to an heiress.

An honest man, he was Alfred's boyhood friend, his friend in manhood.
Alfred loved him while he lived and respected his memory after he was
gone.

If there were more like Sammy Steele in this world there would be better
boys and better men.

CHAPTER TEN

If every man's eternal care
Were written on his brow,
How many would our pity share
Who raise our envy now?

Lest those who read these pages through feelings of sympathy for the
author, or influenced by curiosity, may gain the impression that the
people of Brownsville were not as staid as the exacting proprieties of
society demanded, it must be pointed out that there was not a bar-room
in the town. The two bakeries, William Chatland and Josie Lawton, sold
ale by the glass. Every tavern sold whisky by the drink from a
demi-john, jug or bottle that was kept locked up. The landlord carried
the key and served his customers from