Such evidences of care and thrift were so unusual in that northerly region that I spoke of it to my driver.
"Ah, heem ole Yarnkee man," the _habitant_ said.

"Heem work all time." As if in confirmation of this remark an aged man, hearing our wheels, rose suddenly in the garden where he was weeding, with his face toward us.

Something strangely familiar in his looks at once riveted my attention.

I bade the driver stop and, jumping out, climbed the log fence inclosing the garden and approached the old man.
"Isn't your name Edwards--Jonathan Edwards ?" I exclaimed.
He stood for some moments regarding me without speaking.

"Wal, they don't call me that here," he said at last, still regarding me fixedly.
I told him then who I was and how I had come to be there.