human
Deacon--boys, he said,
gpt
I never got that letter. I wus afeard she'd hear about my scrape, so I wrote her all about it, ez soon ez I got sober, an' begged her to forgive me. An' I waited an' hoped an' prayed for an answer, till I growed desperate; an' came out here.
human
She never heerd from you, Thomas,
gpt
Deac'n, said Tom,
human
--here he drew out a small miniature of his wife--
gpt
continued Tom, producing a thin package, wrapped in oilskin.
human
There's the only two letters I ever got from her, an', just cos her hand writ 'em, I've had 'em just where I took 'em from for four years. I got 'em at Albany, 'fore I got on that cussed tare, an' they was both so sweet an' wifely, that I've never dared to read 'em since, fur fear that thinkin' on what I'd lost would make me even wuss than I am. But I ain't afeard now,