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Jeff Davis is a wise man, Lincoln is a fool, Jeff Davis rides a gray, an' Lincoln rides a mule. I was mad anyway, so I hopped up an' sung dis one: 'Old Gen'l Pope had a shot gun, Filled it full o' gum, Killed 'em as dey come. Called a Union band, Make de Rebels un'erstan' To leave de lan', Submit to Abraham. "Old Mis' was a-standin' right b'hin' me. She grabbed up de broom an' laid it on me.

"Oh, naw, sah, skuze me," said the old negro, "I ain't doin' dat, fur I dun tole you dat I didn' want ter be pertinence, but dar's some things, you know, dat er pusson would like ter un'erstan', an' whut I gwine git fur all dis yere is one o' 'em.

But she was glad to find that neither Janet nor Robert appeared alarmed at the news. "I wuss the cratur had had some brakfast," she said. "He has a piece in 's pooch," answered Janet. "He's no oonprovidit wi' what can be made mair o'." "I dinna richtly un'erstan' ye there," said Jean.

She had been the cause of many rivalries and quarrels. "Dandy" Carter, the gambler, let down his sleeves and thrust the cards into his pocket. "Rose was dealin' faro," he explained, "and this galoot here bucks the game.... He lose. You un'erstan'. He lose a lot o' dust ... as much as forty ounces. Then just like that he stops." The gambler snapped his fingers. "He says, 'My little gal; my partner!

But the upshot o' 't a' was an ill ane; for, efter maybe aboot a month or sae o' sic friendship as was atween them, there cam a nicht 'at brouchtna the captain hame; for ye maun un'erstan', wi' a' his rouch w'ys, an' his drinkin', an' his cairt-playin', he was aye hame at nicht, an' safe intil's bed, whaur he sleepit i' the best chaumer i' the castle.

No' 'at I'm daurin' or wad daur to say a word agen the w'y 'at the warl's goverrnt, but there's some things 'at naebody can un'erstan' I defy them! an' yon's ane o' them what for, cause oor graceless auld lord he was yoong than tuik the life o' the laird o' Glenwarlock, the faimily o' Warlock sud never thrive frae that day to this! Read me that riddle, yoong man, gien ye can."

Her name was Silvey an' her mammy come over to dis country in a big ship. Somebody give her de name o' Betty, but twant her right name. Folks couldn' un'erstan' a word she say. It was some sort o' gibberish dey called gulluh-talk, an' it soun' dat funny. My pappy was Bill Lucas. "When I was a little chap I used to wear coarse lowell-cloth shirts on de week-a-days. Dey was long an' had big collars.

"Sin' lang afore I had ony min' o' my ain!" responded Dawtie, turning to her vernacular. "Then let us be of one heart too, Dawtie!" She was so accustomed to hear Andrew speak in figures, that sometimes she looked through and beyond his words. She did so now, and seeing nothing, stood perplexed. "Winna ye, Dawtie?" said Andrew, holding out his hands. "I dinna freely un'erstan' ye, An'rew."

But noo I seem to hae gotten some mair licht, and to ken some things I didna ken afore; sae, turnin my back upo' my past sin, and believin God has forgien me, and is willin I sud set my han' to his pleuch ance mair, I hae thoucht to mak a new beginnin here in a quaiet heumble fashion, tellin ye something o' what I hae begoud, i' the mercy o' God, to un'erstan' a wee for mysel.

"No note mush, but me un'erstan' good deal," she returned, with a hearty laugh at my expression. I found on trial, however, that the girl's knowledge of English was so slight that we could not readily converse in it. We therefore fell back on the Indian tongue. "I wish I had known your father, Waboose," I said earnestly. "He must have been a very good man." She looked at me gratefully.