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“So there you see, boys, there can’t be no iniquity so hid but what it’ll come out. The wild Indians of the forest, and the stormy winds and tempests, j’ined together to bring out this ‘ere.”

“For my part,” said Aunt Lois sharply, “I never believed that story.”

“Why, Lois,” said my grandmother, “Cap’n Eb Sawin was a regular church-member, and a most respectable man.”

“Law, mother! I don’t doubt he thought so. I suppose he and Cack got drinking toddy together, till he got asleep, and dreamed it. I wouldn’t believe such a thing if it did happen right before my face and eyes. I should only think I was crazy, that’s all.”

“Come, Lois, if I was you, I wouldn’t talk so like a Sadducee,” said my grandmother.”What would become of all the accounts in Dr. Cotton Mather’s ‘Magnilly’ if folks were like you?”

“Wal,” said Sam Lawson, drooping contemplatively over the coals, and gazing into the fire, “there’s a putty consid’able sight o’ things in this world that’s true; and then ag’in the
re’s a sight o’ things that ain’t true. Now, my old gran’ther used to say, ‘Boys, says he, ‘if ye want to lead a pleasant and prosperous life, ye must contrive allers to keep jest the happy medium between truth and falsehood.’ Now, that are’s my doctrine.”

Aunt Lois knit severely.

“Boys,” said Sam, “don’t you want ter go down with me and get a mug o’ cider?”

Of course we did, and took down a basket to bring up some apples to roast.

“Boys,” says Sam mysteriously, while he was drawing the cider, “you jest ask your Aunt Lois to tell you what she knows ’bout Ruth Sullivan.”

“Why, what is it?”

“Oh! you must ask her . These ‘ere folks that’s so kind o’ toppin’ about sperits and sich, come sift ’em down, you gen’lly find they knows one story that kind o’ puzzles ’em. Now you mind, and jist ask your Aunt Lois about Ruth Sullivan.”