THE VILLAGE STORE. 363 



injunctions to hurry back. He is now making himself sick 

 on a " half-Spanish," for it is his first attempt at using the 

 weed. He has a confiding mother, and she must needs be 

 when, after scenting his coat in the morning, he tells her it 

 was all done by his being in such a crowd of smokers at the 

 store, and she believes it. The other lad, a Daniel Lambert 

 in obesity, is the son of a deacon of the church, also sent 

 on a hasty errand. He is a modern edition of the Prodigal 

 Son, bound in a roundabout and tight trousers. He robbed 

 a hen's nest of its fruit before he left home, and has spent the 

 value of it in riotous living in the shape of a penny cigar. 

 Viewing this as a symbol of pleasure, he has drained it to the 

 dregs, for he is now chewing the stump. So, like the Prodigal, 

 he has come to the husk which even swine would not eat; and 

 I am certain that, knowing all things, if his father had him 

 at home he would at least half kill the fatted calf. 



The lucky one of the nocturnal fixtures being seated in the 

 only arm chair, the rest on bench, counter or with their 

 pantaloons patched with nail kegs, the scene is interesting 

 and instructive. Behold the venerable loafer whose back 

 has become bowed, his locks a snowy white and whose 

 tongue has become slightly palsied in the service of his 

 nightly audience. Grown hardened in his sin of telling 

 incredible stories, he has got to believe them himself. There 

 is the other nuisance who tells pointless yarns full of " I tell 

 you what's," " you know's," " you see's," " says I's " and " says 

 he's" until he becomes unendurable, except to his regular 

 listeners. There is the man who is so devoted to fishing 

 that his mouth has grown like a sucker's, his eyes as of a 

 catfish, and in getting out of paying his debts has become 

 as an eel in slipperiness. His tales are of the fish, fishy. 

 There is the sportsman with hunting proclivities, who will 

 lie by the hour if he can have listeners. Too lazy to work, 

 he will trudge from morning till night o'er hill and valley 



