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(As viewed by an unconverted boon companion.) TT a'n't accordin' to natur' for folks to turn right askew, 1 A droppin' out o' the old ways, an' droppin' into the
new, An' what I hear 'em sayin' 'bout Nathan, and Nathan's
folks, Is suthin' I hev ter laff at, as one o' the best o' jokes. I've summered an' wintered with Nathan, an' know the
cut of his jib, An' know the kind o' grain in his barn, the kind o corn
in his crib: An' it a'n't any use o’tellin' me, or any one else who knows,
sows. That ever a man was born to reap a better thing than he Talks up in meetin', does he ?-in words that are sweet
to hear! 'Twas only a month or so ago he swore like a privateer! An' it a'n't accordin' to natur' that a tongue with an evil
twist Should change its course, an' begin to grind at another
kind o grist. Nigh on to death he's been, they say, with a cur'us sort
o'complaint, That threw the devil out of his bones an' made him a
decent saint; But ther' a’n't enough physic in any o' these 'ere parts,
to my mind, To make of old Nathan Turner one o' the orthodox kind. Given up drinkin' licker !—Taken the temp’rance pledge! Well, that 'ere's news, I tell ye now, that's settin' my teeth on edge!
[know For it a'n't accordin' to natur-I say it, who ought to An' Nathan Turner's never the man to yield an inch to
a foe! Well, I couldn't be much more took aback, had ye told
me that that 'ere root Would 'a' straightened out, an' begun to bear a likely
kind o' fruit;
An' I'll hev to think the Lord hisself attended to Nar
than's case, For it a’n’t accordin' to natur', I know, an' must be a
work o' grace !-SUNDAY SCHOOL TIMES.
WHY HE WOULDN'T SELL THE FARM. LERE, John! you drive the cows up, while yer mar 11 brings out the pails; But don't ye let me ketch yer hangin' onter them cows'
tails, An' chasin' them acrost thai lot at sich a tarin' rate; An', John, when you cum out, be sure and shet the pas
tur' gate. [t's strange that boy will never larn to notice what I say; I'm 'fraid he'll git to rulin' me, if things goes on this
way; But boys is boys, an' will be boys, till ther grown up to
men, An' John's 'bout as good a lad as the average of 'em. I'll tell ye, stranger, how it is; I feel a heap o' pride In thet boy-he's our only one sence little Neddy died; Don't mind me, sir, I'm growin' old, my eye-sight's
gittin' dim; But 't seems sumhow a kind omist cums long o'thoughts
of him. Jes' set down on the door step, Squar, an' make yerself
to hum; While Johnny's bringin' up the cows, I'll tell ye how
Thet all our boys has left us, 'ceptin' Johnny there,
Thar was our first. boy, Benjamin, the oldest of them all, He was the smartest little chap, so chipper, pert, an'
small, He cum to us one sun-bright morn, as merry as a lark, It would ha’ done your soul good, Squar, to seen the
little spark. An' thar was Tom,“ a han’sum boy,” his mother allus
said, He took to books, and larned so spry, we put the sprig
ahead His skoolin' cleaned the little pile we'd laid by in the
chest, But I's bound to give the boy a chance to do his "level
Our third one's name was Samuel; he grow'd up here to
hum, An' worked with me upon the farm till he was twenty
one; Fur Benjamin had l'arned a trade he didn't take to
work; Tom, mixin' up in politics, got ʼlected County Clerk.
We ken all remember, stranger, the year of sixty-one, When the spark thet tetched the powder off in that
Confed’ret gun Flashed like a streak o' lightnin' up acrost from East
to West, An' left a spot thet burned like fire in every patriot's
An' I tell ye what it was, Squar, my boys cum up to the
scratch, They all had a share o' the old man's grit, with enough
of their own to matchThey show'd ther colors, an' set ther flint, ther names
went down on the roll, An' Benjamin, Thomas, an' Sam was pledged to preserve
the old flag whole. They all cum hum together at the last, rigged up in
soldier's clothes; It made my old heart thump with pride, an' ther mother's
spirits rose, Fur she'd been “ down in the mouth” sumwhat, sence
she'd heard what the boys had done, Fur it took all three, an' it's hard enough fur a mother
to give up one. But ther warn't a drop of coward's blood in her veins, I
ken tell you first, Fur she'd send the boys, an' the old man, too, if worst
had cum to worst; I shall never forgit the last night, when we all kneeled
down to pray, How she give 'em, one by one, to God, in the hush of the
twilight gray. An' then, when morning broke so clear—not a cloud was
in the sky, The boys cum in with sober looks to bid us their last
good-bye; I didn't 'spect she would stand it all with her face so
firm and calm, But she didn't break nor give in a peg till she cum to
An' then it all cum out at onst, like a storm from a
thunder-cloudShe jest sot down on the kitchen floor, broke out with a
sob so loud Thet Sam give up, an' the boys cum back, and they all
got down by her there, An' I'm thinkin''t would made an angel cry to hev seen
thet partin', Squar!
I think she had a forewarnin', fur when they brought
back poor Sam, She sot down by his coffin there, with her face so white
an' calm, An' the neighbor's thet cum a pourin' in to see our
soldier dead, Went out with a hush on their tremblin' lips, an' the
words in ther hearts unsaid.
Stranger, perhaps you heerd of Sam, how he broke thro'
thet Secesh line, An' planted the old flag high an' dry, where its dear old
stars could shine; An' after our soldiers won the day, an' a-gatherin' up the
dead, They found our boy with his brave heart still, and the
flag above his head. An' Tom was shot at Gettysburg, in the hottest of the
frayThey said thet he led his gallant boys like a hero thro'
thet day; But they brought him back with his clear voice hushed
in the silent sleep of death, An' another grave grew grassy green 'neath the kiss of
the summer's breath.