"Mr. Semo, he don't look arter nuffin, dat he don't," Ned continued, as he laid his musket on the ground to rub his back against the jamb of the chimney, "De hoppergrasses is avourin de craps, und de cotton is in de gras up to de tip ends, und de dratted, flop-yeared dorgs is jamby et up all de sheepses, und dere is dem hosses in de stable, a whinkering und a whinkering fur a moufful ob fodder, un de cattle beastes is er strayin erway inter de mash, und cum rane er shine, dare is ole Mars Jon asottin dare lak er ole settin turkey hen er callin Ned, Ned; lak dare want no freedum in de lan. Twant fur Miss Alice dat ole man und all tother fokeses on dis here plantashun wud be lak a passel ob gizzard shads, plum run down to nuffin." "Now yu is a woicin it Ned," again exclaimed Clarissa, as she stitched the last feather in Ned's military cap. "Dare aint but one way fur dat ole man to eber sucker hissef outen his misery und be spectable," said Ned. "Und hows he agwine tu du dat Ned?" interrupted Clarissa. "Don't hit stan ter reson dat ef ole Marse Jon wud jine de publikins und go erbout de kentry baccards and furrards a speechifyin fur de franksized woters, dat he wud git a offis? I don't blame ole marser fur fitin arter Mars Harry got kilt. I'd fout tu, fur my onliest boy, but whar Mars Jon dun rong wus kase he didn't stop Mars Harry fore he rid off to Manassy. Kase Mars Harry he didn't no no better und ole marster did, don't you see de pint, Clarsy?" "I sho duz," again exclaimed Clarissa. "Dere is de shuriff, he fit in de war, jess lak Mars Jon dun, and whars dat man now? de high shuriff! Kase he seed what wus agwine tu kum when de bellum fell, und he flopped ober to de publikins, und de fust fing yu noes, dat man is ergwine tu be de pressiden ob de Newnited States." "Haint yu seed fo now" continued Ned argumentatively, "wun of dem dare lorgerhed turkles drap back into de mud, ergwine furder und furder und er setlin down und downer twell he kivers hisself all epseps his two rad eyes, und bimeby heer cums erlong ole Joshaway er probing wid de gig, und bimeby he gits his konfedence, und den he flings him on de back und tells him rite saft lak, 'please stay dar twell he cums back ergin;' well den de skalyhorgs day dun und got deyselves skotched in de offusses jes lak dat ar turkle, und de fust fing yu nose ef ole Mars Jon haint ergwine to flop ur nuffin heer cums erlong ole Jeff Davis, de secesh man, und ole Mars Jon er probin wid dare ole debbil fork, und bimeby day flings dem publekins on de back und tells dem to stay rite dar twell day cums back. Don't yu see; und den de fat is dun und flung in de fire und de bellyun is dun un riz ergin." "Ole Mars Jon ain't agwine to flop no whers, dat he aint," ejaculated Clarissa. "Den he aint agwine tu git no offis nudder," rejoined Ned, quite seriously and relapsed into silence. "Ned, whats yu agwine tu du wid yosef dis arternoon?" she asked.