' show-nuff goose
feathers, mine yo'; a red lam' wool blanket, en lookin'-glasses all over
de wall, so ez he could see hi'sel' whichever way he tu'n. Nobody to
scole him erbout gittin' up in de mawnin' en he had his breakfas' fotch
up on a silver waiter by a shiny nigger, but somehow, de vittels got so
dey didn't tase ez good ez dey did down on de ole fawm. City grub looks
mi'ty temp'in at fust, but after while when yo' git down ter kinder
pickin' ovah hit, yo'll find dat hit's lackin' in de juice er sunthin',
en yo' long to lay yo' gums on de things jes' whar dey grow.

"Byme-bye--hit allus comes, he see dat he's gittin' low in cash, en
'fore long yo' see him slippin' 'roun' to de pawn shop. De ole pawn-shop
man he scowl at him an' fix ter bleed him good en strong. His dimun
shirt-stud wen' fust, en one by one de rings on hi' fingers, tell dey
look ez bare ez a bean-pole in de wintah time.

"He move his bo'din' house, en purty soon he move ergin, tell he fine'ly
cum ter a house whar dey didn't have much mo' den liver hash. Oh, Lord!
Liver hash! Whar wuz his frens? Ef enny uv yo' hez ever been dar, good
an' busted, yo' know whar dey wuz. Dey tu'n erway frum him lack he wuz a
polecat.

"One mawnin' when ever'thing wuz gone, he started frum de city. Whut a
change! One shurt wuz all he had, en dat hadn' seen de wash fer two
weeks. He wuz seedy en his heart wuz sore; he wuz down an' out, en clean
out, en didn't even have chawin' terbacker. He look lack a turkey
buzzard ez had lost his wing-feathers. He wundered on; he stop by de
bridge whar de water wuz tricklin' down below--he see de picture uv
hi'sel' in de water, en' hit meck de cole chills run up hi' back.
'Shamed er himsel'? He dun got so ershamed dat he look lack he cum out'n
a hole in de groun'. Byme-bye he cum to a fawm house, en ast fer a job.
Yo' know he mus' er been awful hongry to think erbout wuk, but he dun
got so hongry dat he et yarbs en sapplin' bark er ennything. De fawmer
look at him en say, 'I cudden' hev yo' erbout de house; de wimmen
wouldn' stan' fer hit, but I got some hawgs up de holler yo' kin feed,
but yo'll hev to stay erway frum hyar, ez I doan' wan' my chillun
skeered.'

"He wen' up de holler. De win' sigh en groan thru de poppaw bushes, en
he wuz sad, en de dark drap down en hit wuz so lonesome; nobody but de
katydids en de screech-owl en dem hawgs. Doan' yo' feel sorry fer him,
frens? I do--I feel sorry fer ennybody in dat sort er fix, bu