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Say, how d'y'e like de soun'? Dey say de pore man orter pay For walkin' on de groun"! When cullud men was slaves, yer know', 'Twas drefful hard to tax 'em; But jes de minnit dat dey's free, God save us! how dey wax 'em! "Den jes fork up de little tax, etc." "What you know 'bout poll-tax, Berry?" asked Nimbus, good-naturedly, when the song was ended. "Yer hain't turned politician, hez yer?"
But still Paul declared that he had hopes of making their destination before darkness set in. The sun was getting very low, and the river looked desolate indeed. It was bordered by swampy land; and where the ground showed, there seemed to be such a vast number of rocks that farming had never been attempted. "What d'y'e suppose is in those marshes?"
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