I wuz the on'y man aroun'-- (Durn old-fogey town! 'Peared more like, to me, _Sund'y_ than _Saturd'y_!) Dog come 'crost the road And tuk a smell And putt right back: Mishler driv by 'ith a load O' cantalo'pes he couldn't sell-- Too mad, 'i jack! To even ast What wuz up, as he went past! Weather most outrageous hot!-- Fairly hear it sizz Roun' Dock and Mike--tel Dock he shot,-- And Mike he slacked that grip o' his And fell, all spraddled out. Dock riz 'Bout half up, a spittin' red, And shuck his head.... And I wuz a-standin' as clos't to 'em As me and you is! And Dock he says, A-whisperin'-like,-- "It hain't no use A-tryin'!--Mike He's jest ripped my daylights loose!-- Git that blame-don fiddler to Let up, and come out here--You Got some burryin' to do,-- Mike makes _one_, and, I expects, 'Bout ten seconds, I'll make _two_!" And he drapped back, whare he'd riz, 'Crost Mike's body, black and blue, Like a great big letter X!-- And I wuz a-standin' as clos't to 'em As me and you is! PAP'S OLD SAYIN' Pap had one old-fashioned sayin' That I'll never quite fergit-- And they's seven growed-up childern Of us rickollects it yit!-- Settin' round the dinner-table, Talkin' 'bout our friends, perhaps, Er abusin' of our neghbors, I kin hear them words o' Pap's-- "Shet up, and eat yer vittels!" Pap he'd never argy with us, Ner cut any subject short Whilse we all kep' clear o' gossip, And wuz actin' as we ort: But ef we'd git out o' order-- Like sometimes a fambly is,-- Faultin' folks, er one another, Then we'd hear that voice o' his-- "Shet up, and eat yer vittels!" Wuz no hand hisse'f at talkin'-- _Never_ hadn't _much_ to say,-- Only, as I said, pervidin' When we'd rile him thataway: Then he'd allus lose his temper Spite o' fate, and jerk his head And slam down his caseknife vicious' Whilse he glared around and said-- "Shet up, and eat yer vittels!" Mind last time 'at Pap was ailin' With a misery in his side, And had hobbled in the kitchen-- Jest the day before he died,-- Laury Jane she ups and tells him, "Pap, you're pale as pale kin be-- Hain't ye 'feard them-air cowcumbers Hain't good fer ye?" And says he, "Shet up, and eat yer vittels!" Well! I've saw a-many a sorrow,-- Forty year', through thick and thin; I've got best,--and I've got _wors'ted_, Time and time and time ag'in!-- But I've met a-many a trouble That I hain't run onto twice, Haltin'-like and thinkin' over Them-air words o' Pap's advice: "Shet up, and eat yer vittels!" ROMANCIN'