the right hand, and five mile would fetch me to Goshen.” “He was drunk, I reckon.  He told you just exactly wrong.” “Well, he did act like he was drunk, but it ain't no matter now.  I got to be moving along.  I'll fetch Goshen before daylight.” “Hold on a minute.  I'll put you up a snack to eat.  You might want it.” So she put me up a snack, and says: “Say, when a cow's laying down, which end of her gets up first?  Answer up prompt now--don't stop to study over it.  Which end gets up first?” “The hind end, mum.” “Well, then, a horse?” “The for'rard end, mum.” “Which side of a tree does the moss grow on?” “North side.” “If fifteen cows is browsing on a hillside, how many of them eats with their heads pointed the same direction?” “The whole fifteen, mum.” “Well, I reckon you _have_ lived in the country.  I thought maybe you was trying to hocus me again.  What's your real name, now?” “George Peters, mum.” “Well, try to remember it, George.  Don't forget and tell me it's Elexander before you go, and then get out by saying it's George Elexander when I catch you.  And don't go about women in that old calico.  You do a girl tolerable poor, but you might fool men, maybe.  Bless you, child, when you set out to thread a needle don't hold the thread still and fetch the needle up to it; hold the needle still and poke the thread at it; that's the way a woman most always does, but a man always does t'other way.  And when you throw at a rat or anything, hitch yourself up a tiptoe and fetch your hand up over your head as awkward as you can, and miss your rat about six or seven foot. Throw stiff-armed from the shoulder, like there was a pivot there for it to turn on, like a girl; not from the wrist and elbow, with your arm out to one side, like a boy.  And, mind you, when a girl tries to catch anything in her lap she throws her knees apart; she don't clap them together, the way you did when you catched the lump of lead.  Why, I spotted you for a boy when you was thre