During the great revival which followed Brother Patterson's first
sermon and effective prayer, the hour for the old-fashioned Methodist
love feast arrived. Old Brother Estep, in his enthusiasm on such
occasions sometimes "stretched his blanket." It was his glory to get
up a sensation among the brethren. He rose and said: "Bretheren, while
I was a-walkin' in my gyardin late yisterday evenin', a-meditatin' on
the final eend of the world, I looked up, an' I seed Gabrael raise his
silver trumpet, which was about fifty foot long, to his blazin' lips,
an' I hearn him give it a toot that knocked me into the fence corner
an' shuck the very taters out'n the ground."
"Tut, tut," said the old parson, "don't talk that way in this meeting;
we all know you didn't hear Gabrael blow his trumpet." The old man's
wife jumped to her feet to help her husband out, and said: "Now parson,
you set down there. Don't you dispute John's word that-away--He mout
a-hearn a toot or two."
"WAMPER-JAW" AT THE JOLLIFICATION.
The sideboard of those good old times would have thrown the prohibition
candidate of to-day into spasms. It sparkled with cut glass decanters
full of the juices of corn, and rye, and apple. The old Squire of the
mill "Deestrict" had as many sweet, buzzing friends as any flower garden
or cider press in Christendom. The most industrious bee that sucked at
the Squire's sideboard was old "Wamper-jaw." His mouth reached from ear
to ear, and was inlaid with huge gums as red as vermilion; and when he
laughed it had the appearance of lightning. On the triumphant day of the
Squire's re-election to his great office, when everything was lovely and
"the goose hung high," he was surrounded by a large crowd of his fellow
citizens, and Thomas Jefferson, in his palmiest days, never looked
grander than did the Squire on this occasion. He was attired in his
best suit of homespun, the choicest product of his wife's dye pot.
His immense vest with its broad luminous stripes, checked the rotundity
of his ample stomach like the lines of latitude and longitude, and
resembled a half finished map of the United States. His blue jeans coat
covered his body as the waters cover the face of the great deep, and
its huge collar encircled the back of his head like the belts of light
around a planet.
The Squire was regaling his friends with his latest side-splitting
jokes. Old "Wamper-jaw" threw himself back in his chair and exploded
with peal after peal of laughter. But suddenly he looked around and
said: "Gen-tul-men, my jaw's flew out'n jint!"
His comrades seized him and pulled him all over the yard trying to get
it back. Finally old "Wamper-jaw" mounted his mule, and with pounding
heels, rode, like Tam O'Shanter, to the nearest doctor who lived two
miles away. The doctor gave his jaw a mysterious yank and it popped back
into socket. "Wamper-jaw" rushed back to join in the festivities at the
Squire's. The glasses were filled again; another side-splitting joke was
told, another peal of laughter went 'round, when "Wamper-jaw" threw his
hand to his face and said: "Gen-tul-men, she's out agin!!!" There was
another hasty ride for the doctor. But in the years that followed;
"Wamper-jaw" was never known to laugh aloud. On the most hilarious
occasions he merely showed his gums.
[Illustration: "WAMPER-JAW."]