They mixed up ow jests wi' the prayers, an' flung in fancy yarns wi' their experiences, an' made a mock at th' exhortashun; an' what they sung in place o' the hemn, I don't know; but I _do_ knaw this much--et warn't fit for a woman to list'n to.
"Well, I laffed--I was forced to laff--but arter a while et grew a bit too strong, an' I runned up to th' house to fetch down a few folks to look.

I warn't away 'bove ten minnits; but when I comed back there warn't no rook to be seen, nor no eye nuther.
They'd a-carr'd et off to Squire Tresawsen's rookery, an' et's niver been seen fro' that day to this." There was silence for a few moments as Caleb finished his story and lit another pipe.

Finally Mr.Fogo roused him to ask-- "What became of your master, Caleb ?" "Dead, sir--dead," answered Caleb, staring into the embers of the fire.

"He lived to a powerful age, tho' albeit a bit totelin' [14] in hes latter days.

But for all that he mou't ha' been like Tantra-bobus--lived till he died, or at least been a centurion--" "A what ?" "Centurion, sir; otherwise a hundred years old.