"
Slightly exaggerated as this statement may have been, the fact that
Daddy was always found by the visitor to be engaged at his wood-
pile, which seemed neither to increase nor diminish under his axe,
a fact, doubtless, owing to the activity of Mammy, who was always
at the same time making pies, seemed to give some credence to the
story. Indeed, the wood-pile of Daddy Downey was a standing
reproof to the indolent and sluggish miner.
"Ole Daddy must use up a pow'ful sight of wood; every time I've
passed by his shanty he's been makin' the chips fly. But what gets
me is, that the pile don't seem to come down," said Whisky Dick to
his neighbor.
"Well, you derned fool!" growled his neighbor, "spose some chap
happens to pass by thar, and sees the old man doin' a man's work at
eighty, and slouches like you and me lying round drunk, and that
chap, feelin' kinder humped, goes up some dark night and heaves a
load of cut pine over his fence, who's got anything to say about
it? Say?" Certainly not the speaker, who had done the act
suggested, nor the penitent and remorseful hearer, who repeated it
next day.
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