For a day or two Jeff's conscience was active, and the memory of
the resolutions inspired by the din of war gave to his thin visage
a preternatural seriousness. Dishes were washed in such brief time
and so thoroughly, and such havoc made in the garden-weeds that
the world might make a note of Jeff's idea of reform (to its
advantage). In the evening his fiddle wailed out psalm-tunes to
the entire exclusion of its former carnal strains.
It must be admitted, however, that Jeff's grace was like the early
dew. On the third evening, "Ole Dan Tucker" slipped in among the
hymns, and these were played in a time scarcely befitting their
character. Then came a bit of news that awakened a wholly
different train of thought and desire. A colored boy, more
venturous than himself, was said to have picked up some "Linkum"
money on the battlefield. This information shed on the wild wooded
tract where the war trumpet had raged the most fiercely a light
more golden than that of the moon then at its full; and Jeff
resolved that with the coming night he also would explore a region
which, nevertheless, had nameless terrors for him.
Pages:
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481