Page:Storys of The bewitched fiddler (1).pdf/22

 with all the bedclothes tumbled above him. It was the first breaking out of a fine morning; the sun was rising, and all nature looked fresh and fair; but poor John was at the point of death, with sheer bodily fear and trembling, so that to get to bed again, and to sleep, would have been martyrdom; therefore he huddled on his clothes, and walked out 'to snuff the caller air,' and muse over his wonderful dream. The more he thought of it, the more he saw the necessity of reforming his mode of life; and, before finishing his stroll, he was an altered man, and made up his mind never more to cabbage an inch of cloth; and, by walking circumspect and just, he trusted that his past offences might be wiped out, and that the wonderful web of many colours should no more be brought up as evidence against him. To make him the more secure in the event of forgetfulness in the hour of temptation, his foreman was let into the great secret, and orders at all times to rub up his rememberance when there was any thing good going, which he used to do by the laconic phrase of—'Master, mind the sheet!'

A year passed over, and the terror of dream being yet fresh in his memory,  transactions were strictly honest. He cut out with somewhat more considerable ease, and had lost a good deal the knack