The people of the island, it is true, had talked pretty fair about what they would do for those who should sustain their interests, but he had got sick of a currency in promises; and fair words, at his time of life, didn't go for much; and so, on the whole, he had pretty much concluded to do as he had done.

He thought no one could call in question his vote, for he was just as poor and as badly off now he had voted, as he was while he was making up his mind.

For his part, he shouldn't be ashamed, hereafter, to look both Deacon Snort and the Parson in the face, when he got home, or even Miss Poke.

He knew what it was to have a clean conscience, as well as any man; for none so well knew what it was to be without anything, as they who had felt by experience its want.

His God-like was a very labor-saving God-like, but he had found, on inquiry, that he came from another part of the island, and that he didn't care a straw which way his kite-tail (Noah's manner of pronouncing clientele) voted.