A Farmer’s Life 
begging her to go and see his brother Andrew 
and offer up a prayer or something. She hesi- 
tated; but at last, pleading that she was busy, 
said she would go on the morrow. She couldn’t 
go that night. 
Thereupon said Silas, gruffly, ‘‘ Somebody 
ought to. There, I'll do it myself.” And off 
he walked. 
How the rest came to be known I cannot 
guess. Mr. Smith told that Silas entered the room 
where Andrew lay—on the ground-floor, across a 
passage from the living-room; and, leaning 
against the table, said very gruffly, “ Andrew, 
do you know the state you’re in? Youen’t got 
much longer to live, ye know. You ’re dyin’.” 
An inarticulate mutter from Andrew, and then 
—Silas again—‘ D’ye ever say yer prayers?” 
Murmurs, perhaps of denial, from the dying 
man. 
‘Well, ye know,” rejoined Silas, “ you ought 
to. I says mine, and you ought to say yourn.” 
92 
