Lars’ but not leas’, when you go home talk erboutin’ de win’ ’sted ub ghoses an’ witches, ondastan’ yo’sebs, pray fuh de bref ub de lam’ futto be wid you, an’ when you rassle wid yo’ lars bref an’ hit whispuh sorf ez uh Cherrypin—
“Yo’ll not git los’ in de wildernes’ Wid uh lighted can’le in yo’ bres’.”
Light de can’le! Ef’n you don’ light hit good an’ hab de wick ub salbation, den de blessed Lawd will _blow_ hit out an’ say ergin: “Foxes hab holes, an’ de birds ub de _air_ (dar’s de application) hab nesses; but de Son ub Man hath not wha ter lay His haid.”
Mars Dick—A country doctor. Ben—a credulous darkey. Mike—a Talbot County mule.
When Mike, meh mule, tuck sick Mars Dick cum ridin’ by An’ say, “Uh case orntried is hyard ter jestify; Still, I kin git him well, meck up yo’ mine ter dat, Ef you will turn yo’ pollyticks an’ be uh Dimmycrat.
“I’s gwine ter try an’ git inter de Legislater, Ben, An’ I wan’ ter run uh haid ub de res’ ub all de men.” De consequation wuz I say, “I’ll vote fuh you, Mars Dick, Fuh dis po’ wretched mule ub mine is mighty, monstus sick.”
Den Mars Dick say, “Be quick! Run ter de swamp an’ get Snake-root, squaw-root, mash-mallers an’ bone-set; Ros’ ’em in uh spidah tell dey squench up inter uth, Den da ain’ no tellin’ what sich uh powder’s wuth.”
Hit seems ter me de price wuz big dat I got fuh meh vote, Kase Mars Dick say dem swamp yearbs wuz uh pow’ful auntydote Fuh hic-cups, cramps, brownchytiz, bruises, bu’ns, haidaches, Rheumatiz an’ measles, conwulsions and de shakes.
An’ den Mars Dick he tole me, in de mawnin’ ’fo’ I feed Futto go inter de swamp an’ git de largis’ reed I seed, An’ fill hit full fum en’ ter en’ wid dat gran’ auntydote, Pull out Mike’s tongue, put in de reed, an’ blow hyard down he thote.
In ’bout uh week I heahd uh nock—’twuz Mars Dick at de do’; I’d jes’ begun uh leetle bit ter walk ’cross de flo’; De pussperation baved meh face, an’ I had so leetle bref, Dat Mars Dick say, “Why, Ben, what’s de matter wid yo’sef?”
I say ter him, “Dat auntydote wuz wus’n dangerous, De mule he gib uh pow’ful snort, _an’ his blow wuz de fus’_! De bone-set’s clustah’d ’roun’ meh bones, de snake-root’s in meh brain, Meh back is full ub mis’ry, an’ meh haid is full ub pain.”