id Pumble, impressively, "wuz to turn right
'round an' go back whar he come from. An' dat's all!"

As was his invariable custom when deeply impressed Sam began to sing,
Pumble joining in:

"Jay-bird a-settin
On a swingin' limb,
He wink at Stephen,
Stephen wink at him;
Stephen pint de gun,
Pull on de trigger,
Off go de load--
An' down come de nigger!"

Greatly refreshed and invigorated by the chanting of this touching
ballad, Sam and Pumble returned to the consideration of their day's
programme. A great many amusements were proposed, discussed, and
rejected in their respective turns. Almost any one of them would have
been held entirely satisfactory on any ordinary occasion, but Sam
thought none of them good enough for his birthday. He required
something extraordinary.

"Kaint you think up nuffin else?" he asked his friend, after a long
pause.

"I done thinked plumb to de back o' my head a'ready," replied Pumble.

"Den I tell you what," said Sam; "I heared my pappy say dis: when a
pusson want to think _rale strong_, he mus' lay down on de flat ob his
back and shet his eyes; an' den, putty soon, he kin think anything he
wants to. Let's try it."

This plan was immediately experimented on. Pumble instantly succeeded
in thinking; but he only thought that he wished he could have a
"buff-day" of his own. Very soon afterward, he ceased to think at all.
As for Sam, _his_ thoughts were for some time very ordinary--of too
commonplace a nature to be here recorded; but they gradually assumed
such an odd and remarkable shape that they may fairly be described as a
vision. It seemed to Sam that the whole country around, as far as one
could see, was transformed into one great field, in a perfect state of
cultivation. But the growing "crop" was not one of cotton, or corn, or
cow-peas, or sorghum, or anything else that he had ever before seen in
such a place. Coming up out of the ground were long rows of very
singular bushes, whereof the stalks were sticks of candy, and the
leaves were blackberry pies, and over the whole field was falling a
drenching rain of molasses. Sam, however, was most astonished at the
curious fruit that the bushes bore. The twigs of some of them supported
jew's-harps and tin trumpets; others bent beneath a wealth of
fire-crackers and Roman candles; others, again, were weighted with his
favorite sardines; and so on in endless variety. It is not at al