Something of the sweetness and buoyancy of all nature permeated the old man's work-calloused body, and he whistled little snatches of the dance tunes he played on his fiddle.
But he found neighbor Johnson to be supplied with another variety of bitter, which was all he needed for the present.

He qualified his refusal to buy with a cordial invitation to go out and see his shotes, in which he took infinite pride.

But Uncle Ripley said: "I guess I'll haf t' be goin'; I want 'o git up to Jennings' before dinner." He couldn't help feeling a little depressed when he found Jennings away.
The next house along the pleasant lane was inhabited by a "new-comer." He was sitting on the horse-trough, holding a horse's halter, while his hired man dashed cold water upon the galled spot on the animal's shoulder.
After some preliminary talk Ripley presented his medicine.
"Hell, no! What do I want of such stuff?
When they's anything the matter with me, I take a lunkin' ol' swig of popple-bark and bourbon.

That fixes me." Uncle Ethan moved off up the lane.

He hardly felt like whistling now.