I hed it on my min' las' time, when I to write ye started, To tech the leadin' featurs o' my gittin' me convarted; But, ez my letters hez to go clearn roun' by way o' Cuby, 'T wun't seem no staler now than then, by th' time it gits where you be. You know up North, though sees an' things air plenty ez you please, Ther' warn't nut one on 'em thet come jes' square with my idees: I dessay they suit workin'-folks thet ain't noways pertic'lar, But nut your Southun gen'leman thet keeps his perpendic'lar; I don't blame nary man thet casts his lot along o' his folks, But ef you cal'late to save _me_, 't must be with folks thet _is_ folks; Cov'nants o' works go 'ginst my grain, but down here I've found out The true fus'-fem'ly A 1 plan,--here's how it come about. When I fus' sot up with Miss S., sez she to me, sez she,-- "Without you git religion, Sir, the thing can't never be; Nut but wut I respeck," sez she, "your intellectle part, But you wun't noways du for me athout a change o' heart: Nothun religion works wal North, but it's ez soft ez spruce, Compared to ourn, for keepin' sound," sez she, "upon the goose; A day's experunce'd prove to ye, ez easy 'z pull a trigger, It takes the Southun pint o' view to raise ten bales a nigger; You'll fin' thet human natur, South, ain't wholesome more 'n skin-deep, An' once't a darkie's took with it, he wun't be wuth his keep." "How _shell_ I git it, Ma'am?" sez I. "Attend the nex' camp-meetin'," Sez she, "an' it'll come to ye ez cheap ez onbleached sheetin'."