“Look here,” said Mose, “es you
didn’t ’pear to be a putty good sort
o’ feller I’d pull out your nose long
enough to tie in a knot for sayin’
that I love her a good deal. W’y,
sir, it’s all I can do to keep from
drappin’ down on my knees an’ wor
shipin’ her.”
“Got any boys?”
“No, an’ don’t want none. All I
want is little Diser.”
“That’s her name?”
“Yes.”
“Sort of a curious name, ain’t it?”
“Wall, yes, I reckon it is to any
body that ain’t used to it. To tell you
the truth, I wanted a boy so bad that
when she wuz born I named her Dis
erp’intment. Arter I fell in love with
her—an’ that wa’n’t until she was a
good big gal—l wanted to change it,
but she tuck on so that I ’lowed that
‘Jeffersonian
I’d better let it stay jes’ as it wuz.
Wall, it’s about time I was startin’
out, fur unless the river has riz sence
I left, some folks is hankerin’ power
ful fur flour by this time.
When within about ten mdes of
home, Mose stopped at a crcss-roads
store to get a drink of wate~ 4 The
sun had just gone down behind the dis
tant bluffs on the river. When he
stepped into the store a loud shout
greeted him, and Andy Horn, Sam
Stoveall and the blacksmith pressed
forward and congratulated him upon
the success of his great journey.
“Tell us all about it, Mose,” said
the blacksmith.
