It was now Oncle Jazon's turn to assume a reflective, reminiscent mood.

He looked about him with an expression of vague half tenderness on his shriveled features.
"I's jes' a thinkin' how time do run past a feller," he presently remarked.

"Twenty-seven years ago I camped right here wi' my wife--ninth one, ef I 'member correct--jes' fresh married to 'r; sort o' honey-moon.

'Twus warm an' sunshiny an' nice.

She wus a poorty squaw, mighty poorty, an' I wus as happy as a tomtit on a sugar-trough.
We b'iled sap yander on them nobs under the maples.