"Here, I've gone into this newspaper business, or whatever it is, on his account, and he don't seem any more satisfied than ever.

I can see he hain't got his heart in it." "The pore boy tries; I know he does, Jacob; and he wants to please you.
But he give up a good deal when he give up bein' a preacher; I s'pose we ought to remember that." "A preacher!" sneered Dryfoos.

"I reckon bein' a preacher wouldn't satisfy him now.

He had the impudence to tell me this afternoon that he would like to be a priest; and he threw it up to me that he never could be because I'd kept him from studyin'." "He don't mean a Catholic priest--not a Roman one, Jacob," the old woman explained, wistfully.

"He's told me all about it.