"I reckon it's be'n three or four thousand years since I was young," he sighed to himself; then, pushing his hat still further down over his eyes: "I don't believe I'd ort to rightly look on at that." He sighed again as he rose, and gently spoke the name of his dead wife: "Marjie,--it's be'n lonesome, sometimes.

I reckon you're mighty tired waitin' for me, ever since sixty-four--yet maybe not; Ulysses S.Grant's over on your side now, and perhaps you've got acquainted with him; you always thought a good deal more of him than you did of me." "Do you see that tall old man up there ?" said Helen, nodding her head toward Martin.

"I think I should like to know him.

I'm sure I like him." "That is old Tom Martin." "I know." "I was sorry and ashamed about all that conspicuousness and shouting.
It must have been very unpleasant for you; it must have been so, for a stranger.

Please try to forgive me for letting you in for it." "But I liked it.