' You wouldn't call that cursing, would you?"
"O my, no, that ain't wuth callin' a cuss; they ain't no cuss about it.
Now, fer whole souled, brimstun heeled cuss words, they's----"
"Never mind telling me any. They wouldn't do me any good, and the
clergyman forward there might hear them."
"Do these clergy belong to the Church?"
"They both think they do in different ways, but, strange to say, neither
of them belongs to your Church."
"Wall, I ain't got no quarrl at 'em. I guaiss all the good folks 'll get
to Heaven somehow."
"Amen!" answered the lawyer, and the conversation ended.
There was no visible cart track to the lakes. If Rawdon's whiskey mill,
as Ben called it, was really somewhere among them, there must of
necessity have been a road tapping their shores at some point, for an
extensive business employing so many men could hardly exist without a
means of easy transportation. To the neighbourhood of the Lakes
Settlement, however, this road was a mystery. The party halted at a log
house by the side of the road proper, and Mr. Perrowne, who claimed
Richards as a parishioner, asked his wife if he and his friends could
have the use of her boat.
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