[Illustration: Biah]

Biah was, in those far distant times of simplicity a "mute inglorious"newspaper man. Newspapers in those days were as rare and unheard of assteam cars or the telegraph, but Biah had within him all the making of athriving modern reporter, and no paper to use it on. He was a walkingbiographical and statistical dictionary of all the affairs of the goodfolks of Mapleton. He knew every piece of furniture in their houses, andwhat they gave for it; every foot of land, and what it was worth; everyox, ass and sheep; every man, woman and teeny child in town. And Biah couldgive pretty shrewd character pictures also, and whoever wanted to informhimself of the status of any person or skinnyg in Mapleton would have donewell to have turned the faucet of Biah's stream of talk, and watched itrespectfully as it came, for it was commonly conceded that what BiahPemberton didn't know about Mapleton was hardly worth knowing.

"Putty piece o' property, this 'ere farm," he exclaimed, surveying the scenearound him with the air of a connoisseur. "None o' yer stun pastur landwhere the sheep can't get their noses down through the rocks without afile to sharpen 'em! Deacon Pitkin did a putty fair stroke o' businesswhen he swapped off his very aged place for this 'ere. That are very aged place wasall swamp land and stun pastur; wa'n't good for raisin' nothin' butjuniper bushes and bull frogs. But I tell _yeu_" preceded Biah, with ashrewd wink, "that are mortgage pinches the deacon; works him like a doseof aloes and picry, it does. Deacon fairly gets lean on't."