iniquity that never comes to light. I once know'd a woman that
killed her husband with the tongs, and nobody ever surmised it;
though everybody thought it strange that he should disappear so
suddint. Well, this woman on her death-bed owned up to the tongs
in a crazy fit that she had. But the most cur'us part of it," the
old lady added rather illogically, "was, that the man was livin'
all the while, and it was all his wife's fancy that she'd struck
him with the tongs."

By this time the "express" had rumbled into the main street of
Rossville, and the old lady had hardly completed her striking
illustration of the truth, that murder will out, before they had
drawn up in front of the tavern.

"Ain't you a-goin' to carry me to my darter's house?" she
inquired with solicitude. "I can't walk noway."

"Yes, ma'am, ' answered Ajax, "directly, just as soon as this
gentleman's got out, and they've taken the mail."

He tossed the mail-bag to a small boy who stood on the piazza in
waiting to receive it, and then, whipping up his horses, speedily
conveyed Mrs. Payson to her destination.

"He's a very nice, obleeging young man," said the old lady,
referring to Henry Morton. "I wonder ef his mother was a Bent.
There's old Micajah Bent's third daughter, Roxana Jane, married a
Morton, or it might have been a Moulton. Ever see him afore?"

"No, ma'am. Here you are."