"
"How do you know that this is the same man who used to visit you in the
woods, and who invented Mr. Belcher's machines?"
"Well, it's a long story. I don't mind tellin' on it, if it wouldn't be
too triflin'," with a comical wink at Mr. Cavendish.
"Go on and tell it," said Mr. Balfour.
"I knowed Benedict up to the time when he lost his mind, an' was packed
off to the 'Sylum, an' I never seen 'im agin till I seen 'im in the
Sevenoaks' poor-house. I come acrost his little boy one night on the
hill, when I was a trampin' home. He hadn't nothin' on but rags, an' he
was as blue an' hungry as a spring bar. The little feller teched me ye
know--teched my feelins--an' I jest sot down to comfort 'im. He telled
me his ma was dead, and that his pa was at old Buffum's, as crazy as a
loon. Well, I stayed to old Buffum's that night, an' went into the
poor-house in the mornin', with the doctor. I seen Benedict thar, an'
knowed him. He was a lyin' on the straw, an' he hadn't cloes enough on
'im to put in tea. An', says I, 'Mr. Benedict, give us your
benediction;' an', says he, 'Jim!' That floored me, an' I jest cried and
swar'd to myself. Well, I made a little 'rangement with him an' his boy,
to take 'im to Abram's bosom.
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