rin',
But your dead-ripe ones ranges high fer treatin' Nothun bretherin:
A spotteder, ringstreakeder child the' warn't in Uncle Sam's
Holl farm,--a cross of striped pig an' one o' Jacob's lambs;
'T wuz Dannil in the lions' den, new an' enlarged edition,
An' everythin' fust-rate o' 'ts kind, the' warn't no impersition.
People's impulsiver down here than wut our folks to home be,
An' kin' o' go it 'ith a resh in raisin' Hail Columby:
Thet's _so_: an' they swarmed out like bees, for your real Southun
men's
Time isn't o' much more account than an ole settin' hen's;
(They jest work semioccashnally, or else don't work at all,
An' so their time an' 'tention both air et saci'ty's call.)
Talk about hospitality! wut Nothun town d' ye know
Would take a totle stranger up an' treat him gratis so?
You'd better b'lieve ther' 's nothin' like this spendin' days an'
nights
Along 'ith a dependent race fer civerlizin' whites.

But this wuz all prelim'nary; it's so Gran' Jurors here
Fin' a true bill, a hendier way than ourn, an' nut so dear;
So arter this they sentenced me, to make all tight 'n' snug,
Afore a reg'lar court o' law, to ten years in the Jug.
I didn' make no gret defence: you don't feel much like speakin',
When, ef you let your clamshells gape, a quart o' tar will leak in:
I _hev_ hearn tell o' winged words, but pint o' fact it tethers
The spoutin' gift to hev your words tu thick sot on with feathers,
An' Choate ner Webster wouldn't ha' made an A 1 kin' o' speech,
Astride a Southun chestnut horse sharper 'n a baby's screech.

Two year ago they ketched the thief, 'n' seein' I wuz innercent,
They jest oncorked an' le' me run, an' in my stid the sinner sent
To see how _he_ liked pork 'n' pone flavored with wa'nut saplin',
An' nary social priv'ledge but a one-hoss, starn-wheel chaplin.
When I come out, the folks behaved mos' gen'manly an' harnsome;
They 'lowed it wouldn't be more 'n right, ef I should cuss 'n' darn
some:
The Cunnle he apolergized; suz he, "I'll du wut 's right,
I'll give ye settisfection now by shootin' ye at sight,
An' give the nigger, (when he's caught,) to pay him fer his trickin'
In gittin' the wrong man took up, a most H fired lickin',--
It's jest the way with all on 'em, the inconsistent critters,
They're 'most enough to make a man blaspheme his mornin' bitters;
I'll be your frien' thru thick an' th