ever was; but now, when he'd take off his new white beaver and make a bow and do a smile, he looked that grand and good and pious that you'd say he had walked right out of the ark, and maybe was old Leviticus himself.  Jim cleaned up the canoe, and I got my paddle ready.  There was a big steamboat laying at the shore away up under the point, about three mile above the town--been there a couple of hours, taking on freight.  Says the king: “Seein' how I'm dressed, I reckon maybe I better arrive down from St. Louis or Cincinnati, or some other big place.  Go for the steamboat, Huckleberry; we'll come down to the village on her.” I didn't have to be ordered twice to go and take a steamboat ride.  I fetched the shore a half a mile above the village, and then went scooting along the bluff bank in the easy water.  Pretty soon we come to a nice innocent-looking young country jake setting on a log swabbing the sweat off of his face, for it was powerful warm weather; and he had a couple of big carpet-bags by him. “Run her nose in shore,” says the king.  I done it. “Wher' you bound for, young man?” “For the steamboat; going to Orleans.” “Git aboard,” says the king. “Hold on a minute, my servant 'll he'p you with them bags.  Jump out and he'p the gentleman, Adolphus”--meaning me, I see. I done so, and then we all three started on again.  The young chap was mighty thankful; said it was tough work toting his baggage such weather. He asked the king where he was going, and the king told him he'd come down the river and landed at the other village this morning, and now he was going up a few mile to see an old friend on a farm up there.  The young fellow says: “When I first see you I says to myself, 'It's Mr. Wilks, sure, and he come mighty near getting here in time.'  But then I says again, 'No, I reckon it ain't him, or else he wouldn't be paddling up the river.'  You _ain't_ him, are you?” “No, my name's Blodgett--Elexander Blodgett--_Reverend_ Elexander Blodgett, I s'p