a
harlot, and axes us to go his doctrin's! I don't mean his brother in the
Scriptur sense, nor his mother in a fig'rative sense, but I mean the
brother of his own blood, and the mother that bore him; for HE,
gentlemen (and he pointed his finger directly at the recent speaker,
while his words came slow and heavy with intense scorn), HE is a Yankee!
And now, I say, gentlemen, d--n sech doctrin's; d----n sech
principles, and d----n the man that's got a soul so black as to utter
'em!"

A breathless silence fell on the assemblage, while the person alluded to
sprang to his feet, his face on fire, and his voice thick and broken
with intense rage, as he yelled out: "Andy Jones, by----, you shall
answer for this!"

"Sartin," said Andy, coolly inserting his thumbs in the armholes of his
waistcoat; "enywhar you likes--har--now--ef 'greeable to you."

"I've no weapon here, sir, but I'll give you a chance mighty sudden,"
was the fierce reply.

"Suit yourself," said Andy, with perfect imperturbability; "but as you
haint jest ready, s'pose you set down, and har me tell 'bout your
relations: they're a right decent set--them as I knows--and I'll swar
they're 'shamed of you."

A buzz went through the crowd, and a dozen voices called out: "Be civil,
Andy"--"Let him blow"--"Shut up"--"Go in, Jones"--with other like
elegant exclamations.

A few of his friends took the aggrieved gentleman aside, and, soon
quieting him, restored order.

"Wal, gentlemen," resumed Andy, "all on you know whar I was raised--over
thar in South Car'lina. I'm sorry to say it, but it's true. And you all
know my father was a pore man, who couldn't give his boys no chance--and
ef he could, thar warn't no schules in the district--so we couldn't hev
got no book-larning ef we'd been a minded to. Wal, the next plantation
to whar we lived was old Cunnel J----'s, the father of this cunnel. He
was a d----d old nullifier, jest like his son--but not half so decent a
man. Wal, on his plantation was an old nigger called Uncle Pomp, who'd
sumhow larned to read. He was a mighty good nigger, and he'd hev been in
heaven long afore now ef the Lord hadn't a had sum good use for him down
har--but he'll be thar yet a d----d sight sooner than sum on us white
folks--that's sartin. Wal, as I was saying, Pomp could read, and when I
was 'bout sixteen, and had never seen the inside of a book, the old
darky said to me one day--he was old then, and that was thirty years
ago--wal, he s