THAT very night I went into Genieve’s room to kiss Snow and Boy good-night.

But both the darlin’s wuz fast asleep, Snow in her little white bed and Boy in his crib. Their faces looked like fresh roses aginst their white pillers, and I did kiss ’em both, but light, so as not to wake ’em up.

Sweet little creeters, I think my eyes on ’em.

Genieve, I see, when I went in wuz a readin’ some book, and as I looked closter at it I see it wuz the Bible. I see she wuz a readin’ about her favorite topick, the old prophets and their doin’s and their sayin’s.

And as I sot down a few minutes by the side of my sweet darlin’s she begun to talk to me about Daniel, and St. John, and some of the rest of them good, faithful old prophets.

Why, she wuz brung up with ’em, as you may say.

She had sot under them old prophets ever sence she had sot at all.

And why shouldn’t she went on about ’em and love ’em when she had fairly drinked in their weird, fascinatin’ influence with her mother’s milk?

She wuz a readin’ about Daniel jest as I went in—about how Daniel stood by the deep waters and heard a voice sayin’ to him:

“Understand.”

And sez she, with her great, beautiful eyes all aglow, “Don’t you think that we who stand by deep waters to-day can hear the voice if we listen?”

“Yes,” sez I, “I believe it from the bottom of my heart; if we do as Daniel did,‘set our hearts to understand,’ we can be kep’ from perils as he wuz, and we can hear that Divine Voice a biddin’ us to understand and to be strong.”

Sez I, “I believe that Voice almost always comes to us in the supreme moments of our greatest need. When we have been mournin’ as Daniel had, and ‘eaten no pleasant bread,’ and lay with our faces on the ground by the deep waters, then comes One to us, onseen by them about us, and touches our bowed heads and sez:

“‘BelovÉd, fear not. Peace be unto thee. Be strong. Yea, be strong.’”

And then we went on and talked considerable, and she told me how her mother had read to her, as soon as she wuz able to understand anything, all about the prophets, and how she had always loved to think about ’em and their divine work.

And I told her I felt jest so; I thought they wuz likely old creeters, them and their wives too.

And Genieve looked up dretful startled and surprised, and said she had never thought about their wives, not at all.

And I sez, “Like enough, nobody duz. Nobody ever did think anything about old Miss Daniel, or Miss Zekiel, or any of ’em. Nobody ever thought of givin’ the wimmen any credit, but they deserve it,” sez I. “I believe they wuz likely old females, every one of ’em.”

Genieve still looked dretful wonderin’, and as if I had put a bran new idee into her head. As much as she had pondered and studied them prophets, she never had gin a thought to them good old females—faithful, hard-workin’ creeters, I believe they wuz.

And she sez, sez she, “I never thought anything about them, whether they had any troubles or not.”

“No,” sez I, “I spoze not, but I believe they had ’em, and I believe they had a tuckerin’ time on’t more’n half the time.

“Why,” sez I, “it stands to reason they had. While their husbands wuz a sallyin’ out a prophesyin’, somebody had to stay to home and work, split kindlin’ wood, etc.”

Genieve looked kinder shocked, and I sez warmly:

“Not but what I think a sight of them old prophets, sights of ’em. My soul burns within me, or almost burns, a thinkin’ of them old men of whom the world wuz not worthy, who had to tell the secret things that the Lord had revealed to ’em to the ears of a blasphemin’ and gainsayin’ world. I jest about worship ’em when I think of their trials, their persecutions, their death for duty’s sake.

“But while I honor them old men up to the very highest pint honor can go in a human breast, still I have feelin’s for their wives—I can’t help feelin’ sorry for them poor old creeters.

“Not a word do we hear about them, and it makes me feel bad to see my sect so overlooked and brought down to nort.

“And I’ll bet (or would bet if it wuzn’t for principle) that old Miss Daniel, and Miss Zekiel, and Miss Hosey, and Miss Maleky, and all the rest of them old female wimmen had a tough time on’t.

“Why, if there wuzn’t anything else to trouble ’em, it wuz enough to kill any woman to see the torment and persecutions that follered on after the man she loved. To see ’em wanderin’ about in sheepskin and goatskin, and bein’ afflicted, and destitute, and tormented.

“That wuz enough to break down any woman’s happiness; but they had to buckle to and work head work most likely to take care of themselves and their children.

“‘Destitute’ means privation and starvation for old Miss Prophet and the children, as well as for the husband and father.

“And I’ll bet that old Miss Hosey and Miss Maleky jest put to it and worked and made perfect slaves of themselves.

“And with all this work, and care, and privation on their minds and hearts, they couldn’t have got such a dretful sight of sympathy and companionship out of their husbands, to say nuthin’ of help and out-door chores.

“For though the old prophets wuz jest as likely as likely could be and did what wuz perfectly necessary and right, still while they wuz out in the streets a hollerin’ ‘Woe! woe! to this wicked city!’ etc., etc., they couldn’t at the same time be to home a talkin’ affectionate to their pardners or a sawin’ wood. I’ll bet old Miss Maleky picked up more than half she burned, and split pretty nigh all her own kindlin’ wood, and killed her hens, and sot ’em, etc., etc.