Neghborly Poems and Dialect SketchesRiley, James Whitcomb
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Neghborly Poems and Dialect Sketches
Riley, James Whitcomb
Dialect literature, American; Dialect poetry, American
Well, about them times Bills was tuk down with the agur; first got to
chillin' ever'-other-day, then _ever'_ day, and harder and harder, tel
sometimes he'd be obleeged to stay away from meetin' on account of it.
And onc't I was at meetin' when he told about it, and how when he
couldn't be with 'em he allus prayed at home, and he said 'at he
believed his prayers was answered, fer onc't he'd prayed fer a new
outpourin' of the Holy Sperit, and that very night they was three new
jiners. And another time he said 'at he'd prayed 'at Wesley Morris
would jine, and lo and behold you! he _did_ jine, and the very night
'at he _prayed_ he would.
Well, the night I'm a-speakin' of he'd had a chill the day afore and
couldn't go that night, and was in bed when Ezry druv past fer him;
said he'd like to go, but had a high fever and couldn't. And then
Ezry's woman ast him ef he was too sick to spare Annie; and he said no,
they could take her and the baby: and told her to fix his medicine so's
he could reach it 'thout gittin' out o' bed, and he'd git along 'thout
her. And so she tuk the baby and went along with Ezry and his folks.
I was at meetin' that night and rickollect 'em comin' in. Annie got a
seat jist behind me--Steve give her his'n and stood up; and I
rickollect a-astin' her how Bills was a-gittin' along with the agur;
and little Annie, the baby, kep' a-pullin' my hair and a-crowin' tel
finally she went to sleep; and Steve ast her mother to let _him_ hold
her--cutest little thing you ever laid eyes on, and the very pictur'
_of_ her mother.
Old Daddy Barker preached that night, and a mighty good sermont. His
text, ef I rickollect right, was "workin' out your own salvation"; and
when I listen to preachers nowadays in their big churches and their
fine pulpits, I allus think o' Daddy Barker, and kindo' some way wisht
the old times could come agin, with the old log meetin'-house with its
puncheon-floor, and the chinkin' in the walls, and old Daddy Barker in
the pulpit. He'd make you feel 'at the Lord could make Hisse'f at home
there, and find jist as abundant comfort in the old log house as He
could in any of your fine-furnished churches 'at you can't set down in
'thout payin' fer the privilege, like it was a theatre.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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