were in need of the doctrine of gentleness. I
suppose it is true, but this land needs only the doctrine while there
are others that are in need of the lash--I might say, the sword. I am
not as high in the social world as you may suppose, but what I know of
society leads me to believe that we polish a barbarism and call it a
brilliant grace. Politeness is charming to look at and to hear, but it
is the art of telling and acting a lie. Among these hills we hear a
laugh and we know that some one is amused. In society we see a smile and
we feel that some one is a hypocrite."

"I hope it ain't that bad, ma'm."

"But it is that bad."

"When Uncle Jasper asked you if yo' husband was dead, you said worse
than that--divorced. Was he very mean to you, ma'am?"

"He was a brute, Mr. Reverend."

"Did anybody knock him down for you?"

"Oh, no."

"Is he livin'?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Do you want him knocked down?"

"Why, Mr. Reverend! Just now you were talking of the doctrine of
gentleness, and now you speak of knocking some one down. How can you be
so changeable."

"I'm not changeable, ma'm. The doctrine of gentleness don't apply to a
snake, and if that man didn't treat you right he is a snake. And I'm a
preacher; I go out among them that needs prayer and I pray; in the night
when it seems that everybody else in the world is asleep, I have gone
out and knelt down in the dirt and prayed that the pain and the
bitterness might be taken from the troubled hearts of my neighbors. I've
gone to see many a young feller and begged him to give up fightin'--I've
done all that, but if you was to tell me where I could find that
man--man that was a brute to you, I'd hunt him and with my fist I would
mash the teeth out of his mouth. Where does he live?"

"We must not think of him, Mr. Reverend. And besides, when I speak of
him, how do you know that I tell the truth?"

"Ma'm, if a man should inspire you with a lie, it would be proof enough
that he is a brute."

She clapped her hands and laughed. "Oh, Troubadour, recite your soul to
me!"

"What did you say, ma'm?"

"Oh, nothing." She pointed and Jim saw Tom and Lou enter the vine-hung
gulch leading to the place where corn had been ground at night.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE SPIRIT THAT PLAYED WITH HER.

"This looks like the scenery in a theatre," said Tom, as slowly they
walked up the gulch. She asked him what he meant and he explained as
best he could the nature of a pla