And that was just what we had done. The old flooring (not very secure) had given away in the storm; and we'd gone down through two stories, where the chimney ought to have been, jam! into the cellar on the coal heap, and all as good as ever excepting the bedstead. FOOTNOTE: [66] From "Trot's Wedding Journey." DE APPILE TREE[67] JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS Dat's a mighty quare tale, 'bout de appile tree In de pah'dise gyardin, whar Adam runned free, Whar de butter-flies drunk honey wid ole mammy bee. Talk about yo good times, I bet you he had 'em--Adam-- Adam en Eve, an' de appile tree. He woke one mawnin wid a pullin at he sleeve; He open his eye, an' dar was Eve-- He shook her han', wid a "Honey, don' grieve. You's de only gal on earth for me An' dats de truf, believe." Talk about yo good times, I'll bet you dey had 'em--Adam-- Adam en Eve, an' de appile tree. Den Eve took a bite er de appile fruit En Adam he bit, en den dey scoot. Dar's whar de niggah leahn de quick cally hoot, Ben a runnin' ever since from somebody's boot. En runned en hide behin' de fig tree--Adam-- Adam en Eve behin' de fig tree. Dey had der frolics, en dey had dere flings, Den arter dat, de fun tuck wings, Honey's mighty sweet, but bees has stings An' dey came into de shadder dat de storm cloud brings. Talk about yo hahd times, u-h-m uhm, I bet you dey had 'em--Adam-- Adam en Eve behin' de fig tree. Kase outer de gyardin dey had fur tuh skin. Ter fin' de crack whar Satan crept in Dey sarch fur and wide, dey sarch mighty well. Eve, she knowed, but she 'fused fur ter tell. Ole Satan's trail was all rubbed out 'Ceppen a track er two, whar he walked about. Talk about troubles, I bet you dey had 'em--Adam-- Adam en Eve, en all dere kin. Well, when dey got back de gate wuz shut. An' dat wuz de pay, what Adam got. In dat gyardin he went no moh. De ober-seer gib him a shobel en a hoe, A mule, en a plow, en a swingle tree, Talk about yo hahd times, I bet you dey had 'em--Adam-- En all uh his chillen bofe slave en free. En de chillen ob Adam, en de chillen's kin, Dey all got smeared wid de pitch ob sin. Dey shut dere eyes, to de great here-atter, En flung sin aroun', wid a turrible splatter. En cahooted wid Satan, en dat wat de matter-- An' troubles, well. I bet you dey had 'em--Adam-- De chillen ob Adam, what forgot ter pray, dey had 'em, And dey keep on a hadden 'em down tuh dis day.