nions with his usual equanimity; but he
utterly declined to gratify public curiosity either at the saloon or
the grocery. One morning he met the Bishop. They walked a long way
together, and it was observed that they seemed to be on most cordial
terms. This happened on Tuesday. Friday morning Demming came to
the Bishop in high spirits. He showed a letter from a cousin in
Charleston, a very old man, with no near kindred and a comfortable
property. This cousin, repenting of an old injustice to Demming's
mother, had bethought him of Demming, his nearest relative; and sent
for him, inclosing money to pay all expenses. "He is right feeble,"
said Demming, with a cheerful accent not according with his mournful
words, "an' wants ter see me onct fo' he departs. Reckon he means ter
do well by me."

The Bishop's hopeful soul saw a chance for the cracker's reclamation.
So he spoke solemnly to him, warning him against perilling his future
by relapsing into his old courses in Charleston. Nothing could exceed
Demming's bland humility. He filled every available pause in the
exhortation with "Thet's so," and "Shoo 's yo' bawn!" and answered,
"I'm gwine ter be 's keerful 's a ole coon thet 's jes' got shet o'
the dogs. You nevah said truer words than them thar, an' don' you
forget it! I'm gwine ter buy mo' lan', an' raise hogs, an' keep th'
ole 'ooman like a lady. Don' ye be 'feard o' me gwine on no' mo'
tears. No, sir, none o' thet in mine. 'Twuz on'y 'cause I wuz so low
in my min' I evah done it, onyhow. Now, I'm gwine ter be 's sober 's
a owl!"

Notwithstanding these and similar protestations, hardly an hour was
gone before Demming was the glory of the saloon, haranguing the crowd
on his favorite topic, the Bishop's virtues. "High-toned gen'leman,
bes' man in the worl', an' nobody's fool, either. I'm proud to call
him my frien', an' Aiken 's put in its bes' licks w'en it cured _him_.
Gen'lemen, he 'vised me ter fight shy o' you all. I reckon as how I
mought be better off ef I'd allus have follered his ammonitions. Walk
up, gen'lemen, an' drink his health! My 'xpens'."

The sequel to such toasts may readily be imagined. By six o'clock,
penniless and tipsy, Demming was apologizing to the Bishop on the
hotel piazza. He had the grace to seem ashamed of himself. "Wust o'
'tis flingin' away all thet money; but I felt kinder like makin'
everybody feel good, an' I set 'em up. An' 't 'appened, somehow, they
wuz a right smart chance o' peopl