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I found me in the school'us' on my seat,
I sot there tryin' thet on for a spell :
Which some folks tell ye now is jest a metterfor (A the’ry, p'raps, it wun't feel none the better
for); I thought o' Reconstruction, wut we'd win Patchin' our patent self-blow-up agin: I thought ef this 'ere milkin' o' the wits, So much a month, warn't givin' Natur' fits, – Ef folks warn't druv, findin' their own milk fail, To work the cow thet hez an iron tail, An' ef idees 'thout ripenin' in the pan Would send up cream to humor
ary man: From this to thet I let my worryin' creep, Till finally I must ha' fell aleep.
Our lives in sleep are some like streams thet glide 'twixt flesh an' sperrit boundin' on each side, Where both shores' shadders kind o' mix an' min
. I’m gret on dreams, an' often when I wake, I've lived so much it makes my mem'ry ache, An' can't skurce take a cat-nap in my cheer 'thout hevin’ 'em, some good, some bad, all queer.
Now I wuz settin' where I'd ben, it seemed,
you I’m your gret-gran’ther multiplied by three.” “My wut?” sez I. — “Your gret-gret-gret, " sez
“ You would n't ha' never ben here but for me.
“ Thet air 's an argymunt I can't endorse, – 't would prove, coz you wear spurs, you kep' a
horse: For brains," sez I, “ wutever you may think, Ain't boun’ to cash the drafs o' pen-an'-ink, Though mos' folks write ez ef they hoped jes'
me, 'fore we furder go, How in all Natur' did you come to know 'bout our affairs," sez I, “ in Kingdom-Come?” — • Wal, I worked round at sperrit-rappin' some, An' danced the tables till their legs wuz gone, In hopes o’larnin' wut wuz goin' on,” Sez he, “but mejums lie so like all-split Thet I concluded it wuz best to quit. But, come now, ef you wun't confess to knowin', You've some conjectures how the thing 's a-go
in'." — “Gran’ther," sez I,
a vane warn't never known Nor asked to hev a jedgment of its own ; An' yit, ef ’t ain't gut rusty in the jints, It's safe to trust its say on certin pints: It knows the wind's opinions to a T, An' the wind settles wut the weather 'll be.” “I never thought a scion of our stock Could grow the wood to make a weather-cock; When I wuz younger ‘n you, skurce more ’n a
shaver, No airthly wind,” sez he, “could make me waver!”
(Ez he said this, he clinched his jaw an' forehead,
Thet warms ye now, an' will a twelve-month hence. You took to follerin' where the Prophets beckoned, An', fust you knowed on, back come Charles the
Second; Now wut I want's to hev all we gain stick, An' not to start Millennium too quick; We hain't to punish only, but to keep, An' the cure 's gut to go a cent'ry deep.” “Wal, milk-an’-water ain't the best o' glue,” Sez he, “an' so you 'll find afore you 're thru ; Ef reshness venters sunthin', shilly-shally Loses ez often wut's ten times the vally. Thet exe of ourn, when Charles's neck gut split, Opened a gap thet ain't bridged over yit: Slav'ry 's your Charles, the Lord hez gin the
“Our Charles," sez I, "hez gut eight million necks. The hardest question ain't the black man's right, The trouble is to 'mancipate the white; ; One's chained in body an' can be sot free, | But t other's chained in soul to an idee: It 's a long job, but we shall worry thru it; Ef bagnets fail, the spellin'-book must du it.” “ Hosee,” sez he, “ I think you 're goin' to fail: The rettlesnake ain't dangerous in the tail ; This 'ere rebellion 's nothin but the rettle, You 'll stomp on thet an' think you ’ve won the
It's Slavery thet 's the fangs an' thinkin' head,