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Monday mornin' break er day, W'ite folks got me gwine, But Sat'dy night, w'en de sun goes down, Dat yaller gal's in my mine. Fifteen poun' er meat a week, W'isky for ter sell, Oh, how can a young man stay at home, Dem gals dey look so well? Met a 'possum in de road Bre' 'Possum, whar you gwine? I thank my stars, I bless my life, I'm a huntin' for de muscadine.
Like a true noble Gentlemen he has borne himself And a faire fortunate Soldier: I hold the State, Sir, Most happie in his care, and this torne Cuntry, Whose wounds smart yet, most bound to his deliveraunce. Bre. Vand.
At length his teeth chattered, and the text was announced, though half the congregation disputed it. "My brethren!" said he once, and the whiteness of his countenance increased; but he said no more. "My bre thren!" responded he a second time; his teeth chattered louder; his cheeks became clammy and death-like. "My brethren!" stammered he a third time emphatically, and his knees fell together.
And for the honour of the Court. Vand. Goe on; You have my voice. Bre. And mine; yet wee'll proceed As judgement shall direct us. Vand. 'Tis my purpose. Bar. In this disgrace I have one foote on his neck; Ere long Ile set the other on his head And sinck him to the Center. Leid. Looke to the dores there. Enter Pr. of Orange, Gra: William, Collonells & Captaines. Or.
A great slab of native basalt eroded by seventy years of sun and rain bore the barely discernible epitaph: "Ci Git Edouard Michel Halley Capitaine de Corvette Officier de la Légion d'honneur Fondateur de la colonie de Vait-hua Mort au champ d'honneur Le 17 bre, 1842" I read it to my friends.
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