“But ’scusin’ all dat, he sho’ is de _on_temperatist man, white er black, dat evah wuz bawn! He des natch’ly _bleedged_ feh teh drink ef he knows dar’s enny kin’ uv liquidmunts er-roun’! W’en de whi’ fo’ks had de bar-rooms ole Pomp he got pow’ful pyeart! He tuck’n tuck my ax an’ went all er-bout er-splittin’ an’ er-cuttin’ up wood—but de Lawd knows he ain’t nevah cut an’ split none feh _me_! An’ den he digged in de blossom patches feh de whi’ fo’ks. An’ let er-lone all er dat, mah hens got teh doin’ mighty cur’s—dey’d cackle lak dey wuz er-layin’ pow’ful, but I nevah could fin’ de fust rudemunts uv er aig. I mought er done a onjustice to de po’ ole niggah, but I ’spicioned him ’caze I hearn tell uv him er-sellin’ aigs, an’ hit don’t ’pyeah natch’l feh er man teh sell aigs w’en he ain’ got no hens uv his own feh teh lay ’em. Dem two ingrejunces—hens an’ aigs—des ’pintedly b’long to one er-nuther. Ef you got hens you’ll git aigs, an’ ef you ain’t you won’t. Dat is, not natch’ly! Uv co’se dey _is_ shawt cuts you kin take feh to git ’em, an’ I ’spicioned mah ole man uv takin’ dem vehy cuts—an’ mah aigs wid ’em. “Well, dem an’ his wuckin’s fotch him in a little sal’ry, an’ evah night he’d go teh de bar-room. Ef he had fo’ bits he’d buy er fo’-bit bottle; ef he had two bits he’d buy er two-bit bottle; so, ’cordin’ teh his bits wuz de size uv his bottle. Den he’d stan’ er-roun’ an’ tell his ’speriunces an’ notate his tales, an’ sing his chunes, an’ de gen’l’mun would treat him to beeh an’ segahs. An’ des es long es dat bar-room stay open, ole Pomp, he’d stay dar. An’ evah night hit wuz de same thing! Evah _re_gitimate cent Pomp could scrape up stopped slap dar in dat bar-room! “So I wusht teh de Lawd de whi’ fo’ks ’d shet up dem bar-rooms, an’ bless de Libbin’ Goodness, dey tuck’n done dat vehy thing!