§ 257 Bordering on the Unreasonable
The hero of this story was one of those persons who accept whatever happens as a manifestation of the divine power. It was not for him to question the workings of a mysterious Providence.
Misfortune dogged his footsteps, yet never once did he complain. His wife ran away with the hired man. His daughter married a ne’er-do-well who deserted her; his son landed in the penitentiary; a cyclone destroyed his residence, a hailstorm spoiled his crop and the holder of the mortgage foreclosed on his farm. Yet at each fresh stroke he knelt and returned thanks to the Almighty for mercies vouchsafed.
Eventually, pauperized but still submissive to the decrees from on high, he landed at the county poorhouse. The overseer sent him out one day to plow a potato field. A thunderstorm came up but was passing by when without warning a bolt of lightning descended from the sky. It melted the ploughshare, stripped most of his garments from him, singed off his beard and mustache, branded him on the back with the initials of an utter stranger, and hurled him through a brush-fence.
Slowly he got upon his knees, clasped his hands and raised his eyes toward heaven. Then, for the first time, the worm turned:
“Lord,” he said, “this is gittin’ to be plum’ rediculous!”