ARMAZINDY

Armazindy;—fambily nameBallenger,—you’ll find the same,As her Daddy answered it,In the old War-rickords yit,—And, like him, she’s airnt the goodWill o’ all the neighborhood.—Name ain’t down inHistory,—But, i jucks! itortto be!Folks is got respec’ ferher—Armazindy Ballenger!—’Specially the ones ’at knowsFac’s o’ how her story goesFrom the start:—Her father blowedUp—eternally furloughed—When the old “Sultana” bu’st,And sich men wuz needed wusst.—Armazindy, ’bout fourteen-Year-old then—and thin and leanAs a killdee,—but—my la!—Blamedest nerve you ever saw!The girl’s mother’dallusbe’nSickly—wuz consumpted whenWord came ’bout her husband.—SoFolks perdictedshe’dsoon go—(Kind o’ griefIunderstand,Losin’mycompanion,—andStill a widower—and stillHinted at, like neighbers will!)So, app’inted, as folks said,Ballenger a-bein’ dead,Widder, ’peared-like, gradjully,Jes grieved after him telsheDied, nex’ Aprile wuz a year,—And in Armazindy’s keerLeavin’ the two twins, as wellAs her pore old miz’ableOld-maid aunty ’at had be’nStruck with palsy, and wuz thenJes a he’pless charge onher—Armazindy Ballenger.Jevver watch a primrose ’boutMinute ’fore it blossoms out—Kindo’ loosen-like, and blowUp its muscles, don’t you know,And, all suddent, bu’st and bloomOut life-size?—Well, I persume’At’s the only measure IKinsize Armazindy by!—Jes achild,oneminute,—nex’,Woman-grown, in all respec’sAnd intents and purposuz—’At’s what Armazindy wuz!Jes achild, I tell ye! YitShe made things git up and gitRound that little farm o’ hern!—Shouldered all the whole concern;—Feed the stock, and milk the cows—Run thefarmand run thehouse!—Onlything she didn’t doWuz to plough and harvest too—But the house and childern tookLots o’ keer—and had to lookAfter her old fittifiedGrandaunt.—Lord! ye could’a’ cried,Seein’ Armazindy smile,’Peared-like, sweeter all the while!And I’ve heerd her laugh and say:—“Jes afore Pap marched away,He says, ‘I depend onyou,Armazindy, come what may—You must be a Soldier, too!’”Neighbers, from the fust, ’ud come—And she’dlet’em help hersome,—“Thanky, ma’am!” and “Thanky, sir!”But no charity ferher!—“Shecould raise the means to payFer her farm-hands ever’ daySich wuz needed!”—And shecould—In cash-money jes as goodAs farm-produc’s ever brungTheir perducer,older young!So folks humored her and smiled,And at last wuz rickonciledFer to let her have her ownWay about it.—But a-goin’Past to town, they’d stop and see“Armazindy’s fambily,”As they’d allus laugh and say,And look sorry right away,Thinkin’ of her Pap, and howHe’d indorse his “Soldier” now!’Courseshecouldn’t never beMuch inyoung-folks’company—Plenty ofin-vites to go,But das’t leave the house, you know—’Less’nSund’yssometimes, whenSome oldGranny’d come and ’ten’Things, while ArmazindyhasGot away fer Church er “Class.”Most the youngsterslikedher—and’Twuzn’t hard to understand,—Fer, by time she wuz sixteen,Purtier girl you never seen—’Ceptin’ she lacked schoolin’, nerCouldn’t rag out stylisher—Like someneighber-girls, ner thumbOn their blame’ melodium,Whilse their pore old mothers sloshedRound the old back-porch and washedTheir clothes fer ’em—rubbed and scrubbedFer girls’d ort to jes be’n clubbed!—And jes sich a girl wuz JuleReddinhouse.—She’dbe’n to schoolAtNew Thessaly, i gum!—Fool before, but that he’ppedsome—’Stablished-like more confidence’At sheneverhad no sense.But she wuz a cunnin’, sly,Meek and lowly sort o’ lie,’At men-folks like me and youB’lieves jes ’cause we ortn’t to.—Jes as purty as a snake,And aspizen—mercy sake!Well, about them times it wuz,Young Sol Stephens th’ashed fer us;And we sent him over toArmazindy’s place to doHerwork fer her.—And-sir! Well—Mighty little else to tell,—Sol he fell in love with her—Armazindy Ballenger!Bless ye!—’Ll, of all the love’At I’ve ever yit knowed of,That-air case o’ theirn beat all!W’y, sheworshippedhim!—And Sol,’Peared-like, could ’a’ kissed the sod(Sayin’ is) where that girl trod!Went to town, she did, and boughtLot o’ things ’at neighbers thoughtMighty strange ferherto buy,—Raal chintz dress-goods—and ’way high!—Cut long in the skyrt,—alsoGaiter-pair o’ shoes, you know;And lace collar;—yes, and fineStylish hat, with ivy-vineAnd red ribbons, and these-’ereArtificial flowers and queerLittle beads and spangles, andOysturch-feathers round the band!Wore ’em, Sund’ys, fer a while—Kindo’ went to Church in style,Sol and Armazindy!—TelIt was noised round purty wellThey wuzpromised.—And they wuz—Sich news travels—well it does!—Pity ’atthatdid!—Fer jesThat-air fac’ and nothin’ lessMust ’a’ putt it in the mindO’ Jule Reddinhouse to findOut some dratted way to hatchOutsomeplan to break the match—’Cause shedoneit!—How?they’s noneKnows adzac’lywhatshe done;Someclaims she writ letters toSol’s folks, up nigh Pleasant ViewSomers—and described, you see,“Armazindy’s fambily”—Hintin’ “ef Sol marriedher,He’d jes be pervidin’ ferThem-air twins o’ hern, and oldPalsied aunt ’at couldn’t holdSpoon to mouth, and layin’ nearBedrid’ on to eighteen year’,And still likely, ’pearantly,To live out the century!”Well—whatever plan Jule laidOut to reach the p’int she made,It wuzdesper’t.—And she won,Finully, by marryunSol herse’f—e-lopin’, too,With him, like shehadto do,—’Cause her folks ’ud allus swore“Jule should never marry pore!”This-here part the story IAllus haf to hurry by,—Way ’at Armazindy jesDrapped back in her linsey dress,And grabbed holt her loom, and shetHer jaws square.—And ef she fretAny ’bout it—never ’pearedSign ’atneighbersseed er heerd;—Most folks liked her all the more—I knowIdid—certain-shore!—(’CourseI’dknowed herPap, and whatStockshe come of.—Yes, and thought,And thinkyit, no man on earth’S worth as much as that girl’s worth!)As fer Jule and Sol, they hadTheir sheer!—less o’ good than bad!—Her folks let her go.—They said,“Spite o’ them she’d made her bedAnd must sleep in it!”—But she,’Peared-like, didn’t sleep so freeAs she ust to—ner solate,Ner sofine, I’m here to state!—Sol wuz pore, of course, and sheWuzn’t ust to poverty—Ner she didn’t ’pear to jes’Filiate with lonesomeness,—’Cause Solhewuz off and outWith his th’asher nigh aboutHalf the time; er, season done,He’d be off mi-anderunRound the country, here and there,Swoppin’ hosses. Well, that-airKind o’ livin’ didn’t suitJule a bit!—and then, to boot,Shehad now the keer o’ twoHer own childern—and to doHer own work and cookin’—yes,And sometimes ferhands, I guess,Well as fambily of her own.—Cut her pride clean to the bone!So howcouldthe whole thing end?—She set down, one night, and pennedA short note, like—’at she sewedOn the childern’s blanket—blowedOut the candle—pulled the doorTo close after her—and, shore-Footed as a cat is, clumbIn a rigg there and left home,With a man a-drivin’ who“Loved her ever fond and true,”As her note went on to say,When Sol read the thing next day.Raally didn’t ’pear to beExtry waste o’ sympathyOver Sol—pore feller!—Yit,Sake o’ them-air little bitO’ twoorphants—as you mightCall ’emthen, by law and right,—Sol’s old friends wuz sorry, andTried to hold him out their handSame as allus: But he’d flinch—Tel, jes ’peared-like, inch by inch,He letallholts go; and soTook to drinkin’, don’t you know,—Tel, to make a long tale short,He wuz fuller than he ortTo ’a’ be’n, at work one day’Bout his th’asher, and give way,Kindo’-like, and fell and ketchedIn the beltin’.... Rid and fetchedArmazindy to him.—HeBegged me to.—But time ’at sheReached his side, he smiled andtriedTo speak.—Couldn’t. So he died....Hands all turned and left her thereAnd went somers else—somewhere.Last, she called us back—in clearVoice as man’ll ever hear—Clear and stiddy, ’peared to me,As her old Pap’s ust to be.—Give us orders what to do’Bout the body—he’pped us, too.So it wuz, Sol Stephens passedIn Armazindy’s hands at last.More’n that, she claimed ’at sheHad consent from him to beMother to his childern—now’Thout no parents anyhow.Yes-sir!and she’sgot’em, too,—Folks saw nothin’ else ’ud do—So they let her haveher way—Like she’s doin’ yit to-day!Years now, I’ve be’n coaxin’ her—Armazindy Ballenger—To in-large her fambilyJesonemore by takin’me—Which I’m feared she never will,Though I’m ’lectioneerin’ still.

Armazindy;—fambily name

Ballenger,—you’ll find the same,

As her Daddy answered it,

In the old War-rickords yit,—

And, like him, she’s airnt the good

Will o’ all the neighborhood.—

Name ain’t down inHistory,—

But, i jucks! itortto be!

Folks is got respec’ ferher—

Armazindy Ballenger!—

’Specially the ones ’at knows

Fac’s o’ how her story goes

From the start:—Her father blowed

Up—eternally furloughed—

When the old “Sultana” bu’st,

And sich men wuz needed wusst.—

Armazindy, ’bout fourteen-

Year-old then—and thin and lean

As a killdee,—but—my la!—

Blamedest nerve you ever saw!

The girl’s mother’dallusbe’n

Sickly—wuz consumpted when

Word came ’bout her husband.—So

Folks perdictedshe’dsoon go—

(Kind o’ griefIunderstand,

Losin’mycompanion,—and

Still a widower—and still

Hinted at, like neighbers will!)

So, app’inted, as folks said,

Ballenger a-bein’ dead,

Widder, ’peared-like, gradjully,

Jes grieved after him telshe

Died, nex’ Aprile wuz a year,—

And in Armazindy’s keer

Leavin’ the two twins, as well

As her pore old miz’able

Old-maid aunty ’at had be’n

Struck with palsy, and wuz then

Jes a he’pless charge onher—

Armazindy Ballenger.

Jevver watch a primrose ’boutMinute ’fore it blossoms out—Kindo’ loosen-like, and blowUp its muscles, don’t you know,And, all suddent, bu’st and bloomOut life-size?—Well, I persume’At’s the only measure IKinsize Armazindy by!—Jes achild,oneminute,—nex’,Woman-grown, in all respec’sAnd intents and purposuz—’At’s what Armazindy wuz!

Jevver watch a primrose ’bout

Minute ’fore it blossoms out—

Kindo’ loosen-like, and blow

Up its muscles, don’t you know,

And, all suddent, bu’st and bloom

Out life-size?—Well, I persume

’At’s the only measure I

Kinsize Armazindy by!—

Jes achild,oneminute,—nex’,

Woman-grown, in all respec’s

And intents and purposuz—

’At’s what Armazindy wuz!

Jes achild, I tell ye! YitShe made things git up and gitRound that little farm o’ hern!—Shouldered all the whole concern;—Feed the stock, and milk the cows—Run thefarmand run thehouse!—Onlything she didn’t doWuz to plough and harvest too—But the house and childern tookLots o’ keer—and had to lookAfter her old fittifiedGrandaunt.—Lord! ye could’a’ cried,Seein’ Armazindy smile,’Peared-like, sweeter all the while!And I’ve heerd her laugh and say:—“Jes afore Pap marched away,He says, ‘I depend onyou,Armazindy, come what may—You must be a Soldier, too!’”

Jes achild, I tell ye! Yit

She made things git up and git

Round that little farm o’ hern!—

Shouldered all the whole concern;—

Feed the stock, and milk the cows—

Run thefarmand run thehouse!—

Onlything she didn’t do

Wuz to plough and harvest too—

But the house and childern took

Lots o’ keer—and had to look

After her old fittified

Grandaunt.—Lord! ye could’a’ cried,

Seein’ Armazindy smile,

’Peared-like, sweeter all the while!

And I’ve heerd her laugh and say:—

“Jes afore Pap marched away,

He says, ‘I depend onyou,

Armazindy, come what may—

You must be a Soldier, too!’”

Neighbers, from the fust, ’ud come—And she’dlet’em help hersome,—“Thanky, ma’am!” and “Thanky, sir!”But no charity ferher!—“Shecould raise the means to payFer her farm-hands ever’ daySich wuz needed!”—And shecould—In cash-money jes as goodAs farm-produc’s ever brungTheir perducer,older young!So folks humored her and smiled,And at last wuz rickonciledFer to let her have her ownWay about it.—But a-goin’Past to town, they’d stop and see“Armazindy’s fambily,”As they’d allus laugh and say,And look sorry right away,Thinkin’ of her Pap, and howHe’d indorse his “Soldier” now!’Courseshecouldn’t never beMuch inyoung-folks’company—Plenty ofin-vites to go,But das’t leave the house, you know—’Less’nSund’yssometimes, whenSome oldGranny’d come and ’ten’Things, while ArmazindyhasGot away fer Church er “Class.”Most the youngsterslikedher—and’Twuzn’t hard to understand,—Fer, by time she wuz sixteen,Purtier girl you never seen—’Ceptin’ she lacked schoolin’, nerCouldn’t rag out stylisher—Like someneighber-girls, ner thumbOn their blame’ melodium,Whilse their pore old mothers sloshedRound the old back-porch and washedTheir clothes fer ’em—rubbed and scrubbedFer girls’d ort to jes be’n clubbed!

Neighbers, from the fust, ’ud come—

And she’dlet’em help hersome,—

“Thanky, ma’am!” and “Thanky, sir!”

But no charity ferher!—

“Shecould raise the means to pay

Fer her farm-hands ever’ day

Sich wuz needed!”—And shecould—

In cash-money jes as good

As farm-produc’s ever brung

Their perducer,older young!

So folks humored her and smiled,

And at last wuz rickonciled

Fer to let her have her own

Way about it.—But a-goin’

Past to town, they’d stop and see

“Armazindy’s fambily,”

As they’d allus laugh and say,

And look sorry right away,

Thinkin’ of her Pap, and how

He’d indorse his “Soldier” now!

’Courseshecouldn’t never be

Much inyoung-folks’company—

Plenty ofin-vites to go,

But das’t leave the house, you know—

’Less’nSund’yssometimes, when

Some oldGranny’d come and ’ten’

Things, while Armazindyhas

Got away fer Church er “Class.”

Most the youngsterslikedher—and

’Twuzn’t hard to understand,—

Fer, by time she wuz sixteen,

Purtier girl you never seen—

’Ceptin’ she lacked schoolin’, ner

Couldn’t rag out stylisher—

Like someneighber-girls, ner thumb

On their blame’ melodium,

Whilse their pore old mothers sloshed

Round the old back-porch and washed

Their clothes fer ’em—rubbed and scrubbed

Fer girls’d ort to jes be’n clubbed!

—And jes sich a girl wuz JuleReddinhouse.—She’dbe’n to schoolAtNew Thessaly, i gum!—Fool before, but that he’ppedsome—’Stablished-like more confidence’At sheneverhad no sense.But she wuz a cunnin’, sly,Meek and lowly sort o’ lie,’At men-folks like me and youB’lieves jes ’cause we ortn’t to.—Jes as purty as a snake,And aspizen—mercy sake!Well, about them times it wuz,Young Sol Stephens th’ashed fer us;And we sent him over toArmazindy’s place to doHerwork fer her.—And-sir! Well—Mighty little else to tell,—Sol he fell in love with her—Armazindy Ballenger!

—And jes sich a girl wuz Jule

Reddinhouse.—She’dbe’n to school

AtNew Thessaly, i gum!—

Fool before, but that he’ppedsome—

’Stablished-like more confidence

’At sheneverhad no sense.

But she wuz a cunnin’, sly,

Meek and lowly sort o’ lie,

’At men-folks like me and you

B’lieves jes ’cause we ortn’t to.—

Jes as purty as a snake,

And aspizen—mercy sake!

Well, about them times it wuz,

Young Sol Stephens th’ashed fer us;

And we sent him over to

Armazindy’s place to do

Herwork fer her.—And-sir! Well—

Mighty little else to tell,—

Sol he fell in love with her—

Armazindy Ballenger!

Bless ye!—’Ll, of all the love’At I’ve ever yit knowed of,That-air case o’ theirn beat all!W’y, sheworshippedhim!—And Sol,’Peared-like, could ’a’ kissed the sod(Sayin’ is) where that girl trod!Went to town, she did, and boughtLot o’ things ’at neighbers thoughtMighty strange ferherto buy,—Raal chintz dress-goods—and ’way high!—Cut long in the skyrt,—alsoGaiter-pair o’ shoes, you know;And lace collar;—yes, and fineStylish hat, with ivy-vineAnd red ribbons, and these-’ereArtificial flowers and queerLittle beads and spangles, andOysturch-feathers round the band!Wore ’em, Sund’ys, fer a while—Kindo’ went to Church in style,Sol and Armazindy!—TelIt was noised round purty wellThey wuzpromised.—And they wuz—Sich news travels—well it does!—Pity ’atthatdid!—Fer jesThat-air fac’ and nothin’ lessMust ’a’ putt it in the mindO’ Jule Reddinhouse to findOut some dratted way to hatchOutsomeplan to break the match—’Cause shedoneit!—How?they’s noneKnows adzac’lywhatshe done;Someclaims she writ letters toSol’s folks, up nigh Pleasant ViewSomers—and described, you see,“Armazindy’s fambily”—Hintin’ “ef Sol marriedher,He’d jes be pervidin’ ferThem-air twins o’ hern, and oldPalsied aunt ’at couldn’t holdSpoon to mouth, and layin’ nearBedrid’ on to eighteen year’,And still likely, ’pearantly,To live out the century!”Well—whatever plan Jule laidOut to reach the p’int she made,It wuzdesper’t.—And she won,Finully, by marryunSol herse’f—e-lopin’, too,With him, like shehadto do,—’Cause her folks ’ud allus swore“Jule should never marry pore!”

Bless ye!—’Ll, of all the love

’At I’ve ever yit knowed of,

That-air case o’ theirn beat all!

W’y, sheworshippedhim!—And Sol,

’Peared-like, could ’a’ kissed the sod

(Sayin’ is) where that girl trod!

Went to town, she did, and bought

Lot o’ things ’at neighbers thought

Mighty strange ferherto buy,—

Raal chintz dress-goods—and ’way high!—

Cut long in the skyrt,—also

Gaiter-pair o’ shoes, you know;

And lace collar;—yes, and fine

Stylish hat, with ivy-vine

And red ribbons, and these-’ere

Artificial flowers and queer

Little beads and spangles, and

Oysturch-feathers round the band!

Wore ’em, Sund’ys, fer a while—

Kindo’ went to Church in style,

Sol and Armazindy!—Tel

It was noised round purty well

They wuzpromised.—And they wuz—

Sich news travels—well it does!—

Pity ’atthatdid!—Fer jes

That-air fac’ and nothin’ less

Must ’a’ putt it in the mind

O’ Jule Reddinhouse to find

Out some dratted way to hatch

Outsomeplan to break the match—

’Cause shedoneit!—How?they’s none

Knows adzac’lywhatshe done;

Someclaims she writ letters to

Sol’s folks, up nigh Pleasant View

Somers—and described, you see,

“Armazindy’s fambily”—

Hintin’ “ef Sol marriedher,

He’d jes be pervidin’ fer

Them-air twins o’ hern, and old

Palsied aunt ’at couldn’t hold

Spoon to mouth, and layin’ near

Bedrid’ on to eighteen year’,

And still likely, ’pearantly,

To live out the century!”

Well—whatever plan Jule laid

Out to reach the p’int she made,

It wuzdesper’t.—And she won,

Finully, by marryun

Sol herse’f—e-lopin’, too,

With him, like shehadto do,—

’Cause her folks ’ud allus swore

“Jule should never marry pore!”

This-here part the story IAllus haf to hurry by,—Way ’at Armazindy jesDrapped back in her linsey dress,And grabbed holt her loom, and shetHer jaws square.—And ef she fretAny ’bout it—never ’pearedSign ’atneighbersseed er heerd;—Most folks liked her all the more—I knowIdid—certain-shore!—(’CourseI’dknowed herPap, and whatStockshe come of.—Yes, and thought,And thinkyit, no man on earth’S worth as much as that girl’s worth!)

This-here part the story I

Allus haf to hurry by,—

Way ’at Armazindy jes

Drapped back in her linsey dress,

And grabbed holt her loom, and shet

Her jaws square.—And ef she fret

Any ’bout it—never ’peared

Sign ’atneighbersseed er heerd;—

Most folks liked her all the more—

I knowIdid—certain-shore!—

(’CourseI’dknowed herPap, and what

Stockshe come of.—Yes, and thought,

And thinkyit, no man on earth

’S worth as much as that girl’s worth!)

As fer Jule and Sol, they hadTheir sheer!—less o’ good than bad!—Her folks let her go.—They said,“Spite o’ them she’d made her bedAnd must sleep in it!”—But she,’Peared-like, didn’t sleep so freeAs she ust to—ner solate,Ner sofine, I’m here to state!—Sol wuz pore, of course, and sheWuzn’t ust to poverty—Ner she didn’t ’pear to jes’Filiate with lonesomeness,—’Cause Solhewuz off and outWith his th’asher nigh aboutHalf the time; er, season done,He’d be off mi-anderunRound the country, here and there,Swoppin’ hosses. Well, that-airKind o’ livin’ didn’t suitJule a bit!—and then, to boot,Shehad now the keer o’ twoHer own childern—and to doHer own work and cookin’—yes,And sometimes ferhands, I guess,Well as fambily of her own.—Cut her pride clean to the bone!So howcouldthe whole thing end?—She set down, one night, and pennedA short note, like—’at she sewedOn the childern’s blanket—blowedOut the candle—pulled the doorTo close after her—and, shore-Footed as a cat is, clumbIn a rigg there and left home,With a man a-drivin’ who“Loved her ever fond and true,”As her note went on to say,When Sol read the thing next day.

As fer Jule and Sol, they had

Their sheer!—less o’ good than bad!—

Her folks let her go.—They said,

“Spite o’ them she’d made her bed

And must sleep in it!”—But she,

’Peared-like, didn’t sleep so free

As she ust to—ner solate,

Ner sofine, I’m here to state!—

Sol wuz pore, of course, and she

Wuzn’t ust to poverty—

Ner she didn’t ’pear to jes

’Filiate with lonesomeness,—

’Cause Solhewuz off and out

With his th’asher nigh about

Half the time; er, season done,

He’d be off mi-anderun

Round the country, here and there,

Swoppin’ hosses. Well, that-air

Kind o’ livin’ didn’t suit

Jule a bit!—and then, to boot,

Shehad now the keer o’ two

Her own childern—and to do

Her own work and cookin’—yes,

And sometimes ferhands, I guess,

Well as fambily of her own.—

Cut her pride clean to the bone!

So howcouldthe whole thing end?—

She set down, one night, and penned

A short note, like—’at she sewed

On the childern’s blanket—blowed

Out the candle—pulled the door

To close after her—and, shore-

Footed as a cat is, clumb

In a rigg there and left home,

With a man a-drivin’ who

“Loved her ever fond and true,”

As her note went on to say,

When Sol read the thing next day.

Raally didn’t ’pear to beExtry waste o’ sympathyOver Sol—pore feller!—Yit,Sake o’ them-air little bitO’ twoorphants—as you mightCall ’emthen, by law and right,—Sol’s old friends wuz sorry, andTried to hold him out their handSame as allus: But he’d flinch—Tel, jes ’peared-like, inch by inch,He letallholts go; and soTook to drinkin’, don’t you know,—Tel, to make a long tale short,He wuz fuller than he ortTo ’a’ be’n, at work one day’Bout his th’asher, and give way,Kindo’-like, and fell and ketchedIn the beltin’.... Rid and fetchedArmazindy to him.—HeBegged me to.—But time ’at sheReached his side, he smiled andtriedTo speak.—Couldn’t. So he died....Hands all turned and left her thereAnd went somers else—somewhere.Last, she called us back—in clearVoice as man’ll ever hear—Clear and stiddy, ’peared to me,As her old Pap’s ust to be.—Give us orders what to do’Bout the body—he’pped us, too.So it wuz, Sol Stephens passedIn Armazindy’s hands at last.More’n that, she claimed ’at sheHad consent from him to beMother to his childern—now’Thout no parents anyhow.

Raally didn’t ’pear to be

Extry waste o’ sympathy

Over Sol—pore feller!—Yit,

Sake o’ them-air little bit

O’ twoorphants—as you might

Call ’emthen, by law and right,—

Sol’s old friends wuz sorry, and

Tried to hold him out their hand

Same as allus: But he’d flinch—

Tel, jes ’peared-like, inch by inch,

He letallholts go; and so

Took to drinkin’, don’t you know,—

Tel, to make a long tale short,

He wuz fuller than he ort

To ’a’ be’n, at work one day

’Bout his th’asher, and give way,

Kindo’-like, and fell and ketched

In the beltin’.

... Rid and fetched

Armazindy to him.—He

Begged me to.—But time ’at she

Reached his side, he smiled andtried

To speak.—Couldn’t. So he died....

Hands all turned and left her there

And went somers else—somewhere.

Last, she called us back—in clear

Voice as man’ll ever hear—

Clear and stiddy, ’peared to me,

As her old Pap’s ust to be.—

Give us orders what to do

’Bout the body—he’pped us, too.

So it wuz, Sol Stephens passed

In Armazindy’s hands at last.

More’n that, she claimed ’at she

Had consent from him to be

Mother to his childern—now

’Thout no parents anyhow.

Yes-sir!and she’sgot’em, too,—Folks saw nothin’ else ’ud do—So they let her haveher way—Like she’s doin’ yit to-day!Years now, I’ve be’n coaxin’ her—Armazindy Ballenger—To in-large her fambilyJesonemore by takin’me—Which I’m feared she never will,Though I’m ’lectioneerin’ still.

Yes-sir!and she’sgot’em, too,—

Folks saw nothin’ else ’ud do—

So they let her haveher way—

Like she’s doin’ yit to-day!

Years now, I’ve be’n coaxin’ her—

Armazindy Ballenger—

To in-large her fambily

Jesonemore by takin’me—

Which I’m feared she never will,

Though I’m ’lectioneerin’ still.

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