imiges o' the gret Nothun Dagon;
(Now I hain't seen one in six munts, for, sence our Treasury Loan,
Though yaller boys is thick anough, eagles hez kind o' flown;)
An' ef J. wants a stronger pint than them thet I hev stated,
Wy, she's an aliun in'my now, an' I've ben cornfiscated,--
For sence we've entered on th' estate o' the late nayshnul eagle,
She hain't no kin' o' right but jest wut I allow ez legle:
Wut _doos_ Secedin' mean, ef't ain't thet nat'rul rights hez riz, 'n'
Thet wut is mine's my own, but wut's another man's ain't his'n?

Bersides, I couldn't do no else; Miss S. suz she to me,
"You've sheered my bed," [Thet's when I paid my interdiction fee
To Southun rites,] "an' kep' your sheer," [Wal, I allow it sticked
So's 't I wuz most six weeks in jail afore I gut me picked,]
"Ner never paid no demmiges; but thet wun't do no harm,
Pervidin' thet you'll ondertake to oversee the farm;
(My eldes' boy is so took up, wut with the Ringtail Rangers
An' settin' in the Jestice-Court for welcomin' o' strangers";)
[He sot on _me_;] "an' so, ef you'll jest ondertake the care
Upon a mod'rit sellery, we'll up an' call it square;
But ef you _can't_ conclude," suz she, an' give a kin' o' grin,
"Wy, the Gran' Jury, I expect, 'll hev to set agin."
Thet's the way metters stood at fust; now wut wuz I to du,
But jest to make the best on't an' off coat an' buckle tu?
Ther' ain't a livin' man thet finds an income necessarier
Than me,--bimeby I'll tell ye how I fin'lly come to merry her.

She hed another motive, tu: I mention of it here
T' encourage lads thet's growin' up to study 'n' persevere,
An' show 'em how much better 't pays to mind their winter-schoolin'
Than to go off on benders 'n' sech, an' waste their time in foolin';
Ef 't warn't for studyin', evening, I never 'd ha' ben here
An orn'ment o' saciety, in my approprut spear:
She wanted somebody, ye see, o' taste an' cultivation,
To talk along o' preachers when they stopt to the plantation;
For folks in Dixie th't read an' write, onless it is by jarks,
Is skurce ez wut they wuz among th' oridgenal patriarchs;
To fit a feller f' wut they call the soshle higherarchy,
All thet you've gut to know is jest beyund an evrage darky;
Schoolin' 's wut they can't seem to stan', they're tu consarned
high-pressure,
An' knowin' t' much might spile a boy for bein' a Secesher.
We hain't no settled preachi