CHRISTMAS IN AMERICA. 13

He walked around it, and then surveyed the yard. I never
saw such a look of astonishment as came into his face.

Presently I heard a shrill voice cry, —

“ Samuel, ain’t that chicken ready yet? ”

Then I heard him say, —

“Rebecca, come here.”

“ Where is the pullet, Samuel ?”

“T chopped her head off, when she vanished right into the
chopping-block. It is a punishment for my sins. I :
never thought it quite right to kill innocent animals for y
food.” i

“Samuel, have you lost your senses? I am not
a fool. You never cut that pullet’s head off in | if
this world. It stands to reason you didn’t; ii
there is n’t a drop of blood on the block.”

“Rebecca, I have never told a lie since I
entered the ministry. I tell you the truth:

I cut that pullet’s head off; the hatchet |
went clean through her neck, when she van-
ished head and all, — went right into the e

    
 

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chopping-block!”’
“Split open the block and you will ez
find her, then.”
Grandfather took up the broad-axe, sev-_/|
ered the chopping-block in the middle, and iD

t

a 2H

 
  

e
7 q/
examined it carefully as it fell apart.

“There is no pullet there,” said he. “I mM

feel like Balaam. I’ve read of such things \

in books, —they happened to Samuel Wesley, and he was a

good man; and to Elder John Leland, and he was a good man.”
“What things ?”

« Supernatural things, — miracles, like.”