I thought I'd let him see it done an' maybe it might make a good
impression; but no, sir! The Baptists didn't suit him! Cried ever'
time one was douced, an' I had to fetch him away. In our Methodist
meetin's he seemed to git worked up an' pervoked, some way. An' the
Presbyterians, he didn't take no stock in them at all. Ricollect, one
Sunday the preacher, he preached a mighty powerful disco'se on the
doctrine o' lost infants not 'lected to salvation--an' Sonny? Why, he
slep' right thoo it.

The first any way lively interest he ever seemed to take in religious
services was at the 'Piscopals, Easter Sunday. When he seen the lilies
an' the candles he thess clapped his little hands, an' time the folks
commenced answerin' back he was tickled all but to death, an' started
answerin' hisself--on'y, of co'se he 'd answer sort o' hit an' miss.

I see then thet Sonny was a natu'al-born 'Piscopal, an' we might ez well
make up our minds to it--an' I told _her_ so, too. They say some is born
so. But we thought we'd let him alone an' let nature take its co'se
for awhile--not pressin' him one way or another. He never had showed
no disposition to be christened, an' ever sence the doctor tried to
vaccinate him he seemed to git the notion that christenin' an'
vaccination was mo' or less the same thing; an' sence that time,
he's been mo' opposed to it than ever.

Sir? Oh no, sir. He didn't vaccinate him; he thess tried to do it; but
Sonny, he wouldn't begin to allow it. We all tried to indoose 'im. I
offered him everything on the farm ef he'd thess roll up his little
sleeve an' let the doctor look at his arm--promised him thet he wouldn't
tech a needle to it tell he said the word. But he wouldn't. He 'lowed
thet me an' his mama could git vaccinated ef we wanted to, but he