I prefer to keep the
friendship of all men, especially of those of my townsmen and brethren in
the church whose piety and talents I so highly respect."
"S-sartinly, th-that's right. I don't like to look around, wh-when I take
the ker-cup at the Sacrament, and see any man that I've wronged; an' I
don't f-feel comf'table nuther to see anybody der-drinkin' from the same
cup that I think has tried to w-wrong me or mine."
"You can save yourself that anxiety about Mr. Clamp, Uncle," said Mark.
"He is not so much concerned about our Christian fellowship as he is about
his fees. He couldn't live here, if he didn't manage to keep on both sides
of every little quarrel in town. Having done me what mischief he could, he
wants now to salve the wound over."
"My young friend, what is the reason of this heat?" asked Mr. Clamp,
mildly.
"I don't care to talk further," Mark retorted. "I might as well explain
the pathology of flesh bruises to a donkey who had maliciously kicked me."
Mr. Clamp wiped his bald head, on which the perspiration was beginning to
gather. His stock of pious commonplaces was exhausted, and he saw no
prospect of calming Mark's rage, or of making any deep impression on the
blacksmith. He therefore rose to depart. "Good evening," said he. "I pray
you may become more reasonable, and less disposed to judge harshly of your
friend and brother.
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