arch, I does! Thass right where they misses it. Why, they _needs_
me, seh! I got a new policy, Mr. March. I 'llowed to espound it las'
week on the flo' of the house, same day the guvneh veto that bill we
pass; yass, seh. The guvneh's too much like Gyarnit; he's faw the whole
hawg or none. Thass not my way; my visions is mo' perspectral an' mo'
clairer. Seh? Wha'd you say?"

"Oh, nothing," laughed John. "Only a shudder of disgust."

"Yass, seh. Well, it is disgusting ev'm to me. You see, I discerns all
these here New Dixie projeckin'. I behole how they all a-makin' they
sun'ry chicken-pies, which notinstanin' they all diff'ent, yit they all
alike, faw they all turnovers! Yass, seh, they all spreads hafe acrost
the dish an' then tu'n back. I has been entitle Slick an' Slippery
Leggett--an' yit what has I always espress myseff? Gen'le_men_, they
must be sufficiend plenty o' chicken-pie to go round. An', Mr. March, if
she don't _be_ round, she won't _go_ round. 'Tis true the scripter say,
To them what hath shell be givened, an' to them what hath not shell be
takened away that which seem like they hath; but the scripter's one
thing an' chicken-pie's anotheh."

"Listen," whispered John, stopping the horse; and when Mr. Leggett would
have begun again--"Oh, do shut your everlasting----"

"P-he-he-he-he!" tittered the mulatto under his breath. John started
again and Leggett resumed.

"Whew! I'm that thusty! Ain't you got no sawt o' pain-killeh about yo'
clo'es? Aw! Mr. March, mos' sholy you is got some. No gen'leman ain't
goin' to be out this time o' night 'ithout some sawt o'
corrective--Lawd! I wisht you had! Cayn't we stop som'er's an' git some?
Lawd! I wisht we could! I'm jest a-honin' faw some sawt o' wetness.

"But exhumin' my subjec', Mr. March, thass anotheh thing the scripters
evince--that ev'y man shall be judge' by his axe. Yass, seh, faw of
co'se ev'y man got his axe to grime. I got mine. You got yo's, ain't
you?--Well, o' co'se. I respec' you faw it! Yass, seh; but right there
the question arise, is it a public axe? An' if so, is it a good one? aw
is it a private axe? aw is it both? Of co'se, ef a man got a good public
axe to grime, he espec'--an' you espec' him--to bring his private axe
along an' git hit grime at the same junction. Thass natchiul. Thass all
right an' puffiely corrosive. On'y we must take tu'ns tunnin' the
grime-stone. You grime my axe, I grime yo's. How does that strack you,
Mr. March?"

Jo