sin' der tails; whereupon Brudder Possum riz wid
a grin ov disgust, an' said: 'Mr. Chaiahman, I's unanimous opposed to
dat motion: Brudder Coon wants dis couvenchun to vote by raisin' der
tails, kase Brudder Coon's got a ring striped an' streaked tail, an'
wants to show it befo' de convenchun. Brudder Coon knows dat de 'possum
is afflicted wid an ole black rusty tail, an I consider dat moshun an
insult to de 'possum race; an' besides dat, Mr. Chaiahman, if you passes
dis moshun for to vote by raisin yo' tails, de Billy-Goat's already
voted!'"

I sometimes think that Uncle Solomon's homely story of the goat would
be a splendid illustration of some of our modern politicians. It is
difficult to tell which side of the question they are on.

[Illustration: THE HAPPY LONG AGO.]

I remembered the yarn Uncle Yaddie once spun at the expense of
Uncle Rastus. Rastus looked sour and said: "You bettah not go too fur;
I'll tell about dem watermillions what disappeared frum Mas. Landon's
watermillion patch." But Uncle Yaddie was undismayed by the threatened
attack upon his own record, and said: "Some time ago Rastus concluded to
go into de egg bizness, an' he prayed to de Lo'd to send him some hens,
but somehow or nudder de hens never come; an' den he prayed to de Lo'd
to send him after de hens, an' lo! an' behold! nex' mornin' his lot wus
full ov chickens. Rastus fixed de nestiz, an' waited, an' waited fur de
hens to lay, but somehow or nudder de hens wouldn't lay dat summer at
all; an' Rastus kep git'n madder an' madder, till one day de ole rooster
hopped up on de porch an begun to flop his wings an' crow. Rastus looked
at him sideways, an' muttered, 'Yes! floppin' yo' wings an' crowin'
aroun' heah like an ole fool, an' you caint lay a egg to save yo' life!'"

The darkies fell over in the floor, and every body laughed except
Rastus. But to appease his wrath, Uncle Yaddie rolled out a big
"watermillion" from under the bed, which lighted up the face of the
frowning old Rastus with smiles, and as the luscious red pulp melted
away in his mouth, he cut the "pigeon wing" in the middle of the floor,
and sang like a mocking bird:

"Oh, de honeymoon am sweet,
De chicken am good,
De 'possum, it am very very fine,
But give me, O, give me,
Oh, how I wish you would!
Dat watermillion hanging' on de vine!"

Then old Uncle Newt rosined his bow, and the welkin rang with the music
of the fiddle.

There I sat in the old f