Eor he was scart plum nigh to death, and so was
Who doubled clus’ above that pail he clenched
But while I larfed I clean forgot the Jackson
And when we struck that on the run, we got
Old Clark went up jest like a ball and, next the
Come whizzlin’ down, s’r, gun and all, starn-
And when the gun-butt struck the ground, ker-
--Both barrels of her, all to onct, and then--
The off-rein bust, the wheels r’ared up--the old
That runaway was on for sure--there warn’t
With t’other rein I geed the mare up-hill to’ards
--We struck the doorstep, struck her fair, and
And long as Lord shall give me breath I shan’t
That old Aunt Clark shot out at me as we went
Then I went out and Pease went out and things
--’Twas sev’ral minits by the clock ’fore this
And there the old mare’d climbed the fence and
With eyes stuck out and ears stuck back and
And from the way she looked at me ’twas master
She wasn’t catchin’ on to what this celebration
And I was clutchin’ jest about two feet of one
While Uncle Pease was dodderin’ round, a-yellin’
For, bless my soul, when he had lit he’d run
Right down in that molasses pail;--he thought
And that the stuff a-runnin’ down and gobbed
Was quarts of gore, and so old Pease had clean
And there he stood like some old hen a-drippin’
And hollered stiddy, ‘Blood and brain, I’m
Old Uncle Clark was on his back, a-listening to
“Now that’s the way the thing come off. Best
“They warn’t nobody hurt a mite: three-fifty
But as he spoke he sought to hide a poultice
And curtly said, “Oh, jest a tunk! you see,
--It’s the tale of Uncle Bart, sir, and his
I have toned it down a little where the language
But the rest is as he told it, this remarkable
I know my confession is homely, but Yankees
Their dollars make shells like a turtle’s, but
To the dear, sacred days of their childhood, and
--The only good things are the old things to
And I’d trade all the cheer of a banquet, I’d
For the tang of the infinite gusto that came to
I lifted the battered tin cover and squared my
The grub that this hearty young shaver had
God bless her, that darling old mother! She
That the groundwork of boyish good morals is,
And though I went barefoot in summer, with
We scampered to school every morning with
There were doughnuts, both holed ones and