[Illustration: "Dare goes joshaway, now, wid Ole Glory strowed er roun' him, steppin lak a rare-hoss over de tater ridges."] CHAPTER VII. A POLITICIAN OF THE NEW SCHOOL. Uncle Joshua was the color guard in a volunteer company of negroes, whose muster roll, like a thermometer, ran up into the nineties. As he shook out the folds of the scarlet-veined banner of the free one morning in his cabin, he observed to his old wife, "Hit peers lak dat dare wus ernudder wun o' dem possels, ef my membrunce sarves me rite, dat toted de flag fur Ginrul Farryo when he wus er heppin disserway und datterway froo de dessart; but I moest furgit dat gemman's name. Twant Absurdam, I'm moest sho, und hit twant Jack-in-de-bed, nudder. Duz yu reckermember dat possel, Hanner? Yu und de locus preacher is erquainted wid all dem aintshunts." "Umph!" grunted Hanna, "yu's gwine fur back fur sumbody to tote de flag. Ef yu hez gin out why don't you fling hit over to Efrum? Ur is yu aiming ter immertate dat aintshunt?" "Grate Jarryko!" exclaimed Joshua, irritated by such a question. "Duz yu see dat fodder foot, und duz yu see dat shuck foot? Well, den, when de leftenant sez 'hep, hep, hep, hep, hep--fodder foot, shuck foot!' I'm ergwine ter fling dem footsies out disserway--see? Und I'm ergwine ter tote ole glory fo und aft, jess so, twell I gits ter be de ginrul, und den I'm ergwine ter fling dem identikle footses in de saddle, disserway, und uprare de rone on his hine shanks, jess lak dat." "Umph!" grunted ole Hannah, "To be sho yu's jess rivved out o' de babboon show! Yu's er sho nuff limber Jack--jest ez suple ez a yurling gote, ebery bit und grane!" "Now, den," continued Joshua, without heeding the ridiculous interruption, "I wuz studdin up dat possel, when you flung yo mouf inter de argyment." "Wuz dat gemman a Mefodis ur Mishunary?" inquired Hannah, provokingly. "Grate Jarryko! How's I ergwine to know dis fur back? Kin I skiver er humans clean clar ercross de dissart, und retch back ter de eend o' de yeth, wid dese wun-eyed specks? Ef he hilt on to grace, he wur a shoutin Mefodis; und ef he run wid Proverdense, he wur a Mishunary; und ef he hilt on ter sumfin wusser, he wur a harrytick. Dat's ez fur ez I'm gwine, doubt I node fur sartin. I'm moest sho, do, he wur a Mishunary, kase he didn't drap back when he cum in contack wid de water." "Grate king!" snapped Hannah, as she kindled into a passion. "Wuz yu dare? Yu talks lak dare warnt no Mefodis mixed up wid dem harryticks; gwine on wid yer warter in de bilin dissart! Better git de Zion bushup to larn yu de scriptur."