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in　the　country　arrive　in　their　war…paint；　and　proceed　to　scare　the　rest
of　me　to　death　with　their　tomahawks。　　Take　it　altogether；　I　never　had
such　a　spirited　time　in　all　my　life　as　I　have　had　to…day。　　No；　I　like
you；　and　I　like　your　calm　unruffled　way　of　explaining　things　to　the
customers；　but　you　see　I　am　not　used　to　it。　　The　Southern　heart　is　too
impulsive；　Southern　hospitality　is　too　lavish　with　the　stranger。　　The
paragraphs　which　I　have　written　to…day；　and　into　whose　cold　sentences
your　masterly　hand　has　infused　the　fervent　spirit　of　Tennesseean
journalism；　will　wake　up　another　nest　of　hornets。　　All　that　mob　of
editors　will　comeand　they　will　come　hungry；　too；　and　want　somebody　for
breakfast。　　I　shall　have　to　bid　you　adieu。　　I　decline　to　be　present　at
these　festivities。　　I　came　South　for　my　health；　I　will　go　back　on　the
same　errand；　and　suddenly。　　Tennesseean　journalism　is　too　stirring　for
me。〃

After　which　we　parted　with　mutual　regret；　and　I　took　apartments　at　the
hospital。






THE　STORY　OF　THE　BAD　LITTLE　BOY＇Written　about　1865＇

Once　there　was　a　bad　little　boy　whose　name　was　Jimthough；　if　you　will
notice；　you　will　find　that　bad　little　boys　are　nearly　always　called　James
in　your　Sunday…school　books。　　It　was　strange；　but　still　it　was　true；　that
this　one　was　called　Jim。

He　didn't　have　any　sick　mother；　eithera　sick　mother　who　was　pious　and
had　the　consumption；　and　would　be　glad　to　lie　down　in　the　grave　and　be　at
rest　but　for　the　strong　love　she　bore　her　boy；　and　the　anxiety　she　felt
that　the　world　might　be　harsh　and　cold　toward　him　when　she　was　gone。
Most　bad　boys　in　the　Sunday　books　are　named　James；　and　have　sick　mothers；
who　teach　them　to　say；　〃Now；　I　lay　me　down；〃　etc。；　and　sing　them　to　sleep
with　sweet；　plaintive　voices；　and　then　kiss　them　good　night；　and　kneel
down　by　the　bedside　and　weep。　　But　it　was　different　with　this　fellow。
He　was　named　Jim；　and　there　wasn't　anything　the　matter　with　his　mother
no　consumption；　nor　anything　of　that　kind。　　She　was　rather　stout　than
otherwise；　and　she　was　not　pious；　moreover；　she　was　not　anxious　on　Jim's
account。　　She　said　if　he　were　to　break　his　neck　it　wouldn't　be　much　loss。
She　always　spanked　Jim　to　sleep；　and　she　never　kissed　him　good　night；　on
the　contrary；　she　boxed　his　ears　when　she　was　ready　to　leave　him。

Once　this　little　bad　boy　stole　the　key　of　the　pantry；　and　slipped　in
there　and　helped　himself　to　some　jam；　and　filled　up　the　vessel　with　tar；
so　that　his　mother　would　never　know　the　difference；　but　all　at　once　a
terrible　feeling　didn't　come　over　him；　and　something　didn't　seem　to
whisper　to　him；　〃Is　it　right　to　disobey　my　mother？　　Isn't　it　sinful　to　do
this？　　Where　do　bad　little　boys　go　who　gobble　up　their　good　kind　mother's
jam？〃　and　then　he　didn't　kneel　down　all　alone　and　promise　never　to　be
wicked　any　more；　and　rise　up　with　a　light；　happy　heart；　and　go　and　tell
his　mother　all　about　it；　and　beg　her　forgiveness；　and　be　blessed　by　her
with　tears　of　pride　and　thankfulness　in　her　eyes。　　No；　that　is　the　way
with　all　other　bad　boys　in　the　books；　but　it　happened　otherwise　with　this
Jim；　strangely　enough。　　He　ate　that　jam；　and　said　it　was　bully；　in　his
sinful；　vulgar　way；　and　he　put　in　the　tar；　and　said　that　was　bully　also；
and　laughed；　and　observed　〃that　the　old　woman　would　get　up　and　snort〃
when　she　found　it　out；　and　when　she　did　find　it　out；　he　denied　knowing
anything　about　it；　and　she　whipped　him　severely；　and　he　did　the　crying
himself。　　Everything　about　this　boy　was　curiouseverything　turned　out
differently　with　him　from　the　way　it　does　to　the　bad　Jameses　in　the
books。

Once　he　climbed　up　in　Farmer　Acorn's　apple　tree　to　steal　apples；　and　the
limb　didn't　break；　and　he　didn't　fall　and　break　his　arm；　and　get　torn　by
the　farmer's　great　dog；　and　then　languish　on　a　sickbed　for　weeks；　and
repent　and　become　good。　　Oh；　no；　he　stole　as　many　apples　as　he　wanted　and
came　down　all　right；　and　he　was　all　ready　for　the　dog；　too；　and　knocked
him　endways　with　a　brick　when　he　came　to　tear　him。　　It　was　very　strange
nothing　like　it　ever　happened　in　those　mild　little　books　with　marbled
backs；　and　with　pictures　in　them　of　men　with　swallow…tailed　coats　and
bell…crowned　hats；　and　pantaloons　that　are　short　in　the　legs；　and　women
with　the　waists　of　their　dresses　under　their　arms；　and　no　hoops　on。
Nothing　like　it　in　any　of　the　Sunday…school　books。

Once　he　stole　the　teacher's　penknife；　and；　when　he　was　afraid　it　would　be
found　out　and　he　would　get　whipped；　he　slipped　it　into　George　Wilson's
cap　poor　Widow　Wilson's　son；　the　moral　boy；　the　good　little　boy　of　the
village；　who　always　obeyed　his　mother；　and　never　told　an　untruth；　and　was
fond　of　his　lessons；　and　infatuated　with　Sunday…school。　　And　when　the
knife　dropped　from　the　cap；　and　poor　George　hung　his　head　and　blushed；
as　if　in　conscious　guilt；　and　the　grieved　teacher　charged　the　theft　upon
him；　and　was　just　in　the　very　act　of　bringing　the　switch　down　upon　his
trembling　shoulders；　a　white…haired；　improbable　justice　of　the　peace　did
not　suddenly　appear　in　their　midst；　and　strike　an　attitude　and　say；
〃Spare　this　noble　boythere　stands　the　cowering　culprit！　　I　was　passing
the　school　door　at　recess；　and；　unseen　myself；　I　saw　the　theft
committed！〃　　And　then　Jim　didn't　get　whaled；　and　the　venerable　justice
didn't　read　the　tearful　school　a　homily；　and　take　George　by　the　hand　and
say　such　boy　deserved　to　be　exalted；　and　then　tell　him　come　and　make　his
home　with　him；　and　sweep　out　the　office；　and　make　fires；　and　run　errands；
and　chop　wood；　and　study　law；　and　help　his　wife　do　household　labors；　and
have　all　the　balance　of　the　time　to　play　and　get　forty　cents　a　month；　and
be　happy。　　No　it　would　have　happened　that　way　in　the　books；　but　didn't
happen　that　way　to　Jim。　　No　meddling　old　clam　of　a　justice　dropped　in　to
make　trouble；　and　so　the　model　boy　George　got　thrashed；　and　Jim　was　glad
of　it　because；　you　know；　Jim　hated　moral　boys。　　Jim　said　he　was　〃down　on
them　milksops。〃　　Such　was　the　coarse　language　of　this　bad；　neglected　boy。

But　the　strangest　thing　that　ever　happened　to　Jim　was　the　time　he　went
boating　on　Sunday；　and　didn't　get　drowned；　and　that　other　time　that　he
got　caught　out　in　the　storm　when　he　was　fishing　on　Sunday　and　didn't　get
struck　by　lightning。　　Why；　you　might　look；　and　look；　all　through　the
Sunday…school　books　from　now　till　next　Christmas；　and　you　would　never
come　across　anything　like　this。　　Oh；　no；　you　would　find　that　all　the　bad
boys　who　go　boating　on　Sunday　invariably　get　drowned；　and　all　the　bad
boys　who　get　caught　out　in　storms　when　they　are　fishing　on　Sunday
infallibly　get　struck　by　lightning。　　Boats　with　bad　boys　in　them　always
upset　on　Sunday；　and　it　always　storms　when　bad　boys　go　fishing　on　the
Sabbath。　　How　this　Jim　ever　escaped　is　a　　mystery　to　me。

This　Jim　bore　a　charmed　lifethat　must　have　been　the　way　of　it。　　Nothing
could　hurt　him。　　He　even　gave　the　elephant　in　the　menagerie　a　plug　of
tobacco；　and　the　elephant　didn't　knock　the　top　of　his　head　off　with　his
trunk。　　He　browsed　around　the　cupboard　after　essence…of　peppermint；　and
didn't　make　a　mistake　and　drink　aqua　fortis。　　He　stole　his　father's　gun
and　went　hunting　on　the　Sabbath；　and　didn't　shoot　three　or　four　of　his
fingers　off。　　He　struck　his　little　sister　on　the　temple　with　his　fist
when　he　was　angry；　and　she　didn't　linger　in　pain　through　long　summer
days；　and　die　with　sweet　words　of　forgiveness　upon　her　lips　that
redoubled　the　anguish　of　his　breaking　heart。　　No；　she　got　over　it。　　He
ran　off　and　went　to　sea　at　last；　and　didn't　come　back　and　find　himself
sad　and　alone　in　the　world；　his　loved　ones　sleeping　in　the　quiet
churchyard；　and　the　vine…embowered　home　of　his　boyhood　tumbled　down　and
gone　to　decay。　　Ah；　no；　he　came　home　as　drunk　as　a　piper；　and　got　into
the　station…house　the　first　thing。

And　he　grew　up　and　married；　and　raised　a　large　family；　and　brained　them
all　with　an　ax　one　night；　and　got　wealthy　by　all　manner　of　cheating　and
rascality；　and　now　he　is　the　infernalest　wickedest　scoundrel　in　his
native　village；　and　is　universally　respected；　and　belongs　to　the
legislature。

So　you　see　there　never　was　a　bad　James　in　the　Sunday…school　books　that
had　such　a　streak　of　luck　as　this　sinful　Jim　with　the　charmed　life。






THE　STORY　OF　THE　GOOD　LITTLE　BOY＇Witten　about　1865＇

Once　there　was　a　good　little　boy　by　the　name　of　Jacob　Blivens。　　He　always
obeyed　his　parents；　no　matter　how　absurd　and　unreasonable　their　demands
were；　and　he　always　learned　his　book；　and　never　was　late　at　Sabbath…
school。　　He　would　not　play　hookey；　even　when　his　sober　judgment　told　him
it　was　the　most　profitable　thing　he　could　do。　　None　of　the　other　boys
could　ever　make　that　boy　out；　he　acted　so　strangely。　　He　wouldn't　lie；　no
matter　how　convenient　it　was。　　He　just　said　it　was　wrong　to　lie；　and　that
was　sufficient　for　him。　　And　he　was　so　honest　that　he　was　simply
ridiculous。　　The　curious　ways　that　that　Jacob　had；　surpassed　everything。
He　wouldn't　play　marbles　on　Sunday；　he　wouldn't　rob　birds'　nests；　he
wouldn't　give　hot　pennies　to　organ…grinders'　monkeys；　he　didn't　seem　to
take　any　interest　in　any　kind　of　rational　amusement。　　So　the　other　boys
used　to　try　to　reason　it　o