Five years glid by, and Brown, one day (Which he'd got so fat that he wouldn't weigh), Was a settin' down, sorter lazily, To the bulliest dinner you ever see, When one o' the children jumped on his knee And says, "Yan's Jones, which you bought his land."

And thar was Jones, standin' out at the fence, And he hadn't no waggin, nor mules, nor tents, Fur he had left Texas afoot and c.u.m To Georgy to see if he couldn't git sum Employment, and he was a lookin' as hum- Ble as ef he had never owned any land.

But Brown he axed him in, and he sot Him down to his vittles smokin' hot, And when he had filled hisself and the floor Brown looked at him sharp and riz and swore That, "whether men's land was rich or poor Thar was more in the MAN than thar was in the LAND."

____ Macon, Georgia, 1869.

Jones's Private Argyment.

That air same Jones, which lived in Jones, He had this pint about him: He'd swear with a hundred sighs and groans, That farmers MUST stop gittin' loans, And git along without 'em:

That bankers, warehous.e.m.e.n, and sich Was fatt'nin' on the planter, And Tennessy was rotten-rich A-raisin' meat and corn, all which Draw'd money to Atlanta:

And the only thing (says Jones) to do Is, eat no meat that's boughten: 'But tear up every I, O, U, And plant all corn and swear for true To quit a-raisin' cotton!'

Thus spouted Jones (whar folks could hear, -- At Court and other gatherin's), And thus kep' spoutin' many a year, Proclaimin' loudly far and near Sich fiddlesticks and blatherin's.

But, one all-fired sweatin' day, It happened I was hoein'

My lower corn-field, which it lay 'Longside the road that runs my way Whar I can see what's goin'.

And a'ter twelve o'clock had come I felt a kinder f.a.ggin', And laid myself un'neath a plum To let my dinner settle sum, When 'long come Jones's waggin,

And Jones was settin' in it, SO: A-readin' of a paper.

His mules was goin' powerful slow, Fur he had tied the lines onto The staple of the sc.r.a.per.

The mules they stopped about a rod From me, and went to feedin'

'Longside the road, upon the sod, But Jones (which he had tuck a tod) Not knowin', kept a-readin'.

And presently says he: "Hit's true; That Clisby's head is level.

Thar's one thing farmers all must do, To keep themselves from goin' tew Bankruptcy and the devil!

"More corn! more corn! MUST plant less ground, And MUSTN'T eat what's boughten!

Next year they'll do it: reasonin's sound: (And, cotton will fetch 'bout a dollar a pound), THARFORE, I'LL plant ALL cotton!"

____ Macon, Georgia, 1870.

The Power of Prayer; or, The First Steamboat up the Alabama.

By Sidney and Clifford Lanier.

You, Dinah! Come and set me whar de ribber-roads does meet.

De Lord, HE made dese black-jack roots to twis' into a seat.

Umph, dar! De Lord have mussy on dis blin' ole n.i.g.g.e.r's feet.

It 'pear to me dis mornin' I kin smell de fust o' June.

I 'clar', I b'lieve dat mockin'-bird could play de fiddle soon!

Dem yonder town-bells sounds like dey was ringin' in de moon.

Well, ef dis n.i.g.g.e.r IS been blind for fo'ty year or mo', Dese ears, DEY sees the world, like, th'u' de cracks dat's in de do'.

For de Lord has built dis body wid de windows 'hind and 'fo'.

I know my front ones IS stopped up, and things is sort o' dim, But den, th'u' DEM, temptation's rain won't leak in on ole Jim!

De back ones show me earth enough, aldo' dey's mons'ous slim.

And as for Hebben, -- bless de Lord, and praise His holy name -- DAT shines in all de co'ners of dis cabin jes' de same As ef dat cabin hadn't nar' a plank upon de frame!

Who CALL me? Listen down de ribber, Dinah! Don't you hyar Somebody holl'in' "Hoo, Jim, hoo?" My Sarah died las' y'ar; IS dat black angel done come back to call ole Jim f'om hyar?

My stars, dat cain't be Sarah, shuh! Jes' listen, Dinah, NOW!

What KIN be comin' up dat bend, a-makin' sich a row?

Fus' bellerin' like a pawin' bull, den squealin' like a sow?

De Lord 'a' mussy sakes alive, jes' hear, -- ker-woof, ker-woof -- De Debble's comin' round dat bend, he's comin' shuh enuff, A-splashin' up de water wid his tail and wid his hoof!

I'se pow'ful skeered; but neversomeless I ain't gwine run away: I'm gwine to stand stiff-legged for de Lord dis blessed day.

YOU screech, and swish de water, Satan! I'se a gwine to pray.

O hebbenly Marster, what thou willest, dat mus' be jes' so, And ef Thou hast bespoke de word, some n.i.g.g.e.r's bound to go.

Den, Lord, please take ole Jim, and lef young Dinah hyar below!

'Scuse Dinah, 'scuse her, Marster; for she's sich a little chile, She hardly jes' begin to scramble up de homeyard stile, But dis ole traveller's feet been tired dis many a many a mile.

I'se wufless as de rotten pole of las' year's fodder-stack.

De rheumatiz done bit my bones; you hear 'em crack and crack?

I cain'st sit down 'dout gruntin' like 'twas breakin' o' my back.

What use de wheel, when hub and spokes is warped and split, and rotten?

What use dis dried-up cotton-stalk, when Life done picked my cotton?

I'se like a word dat somebody said, and den done been forgotten.

But, Dinah! Shuh dat gal jes' like dis little hick'ry tree, De sap's jes' risin in her; she do grow owdaciouslee -- Lord, ef you's clarin' de underbrush, don't cut her down, cut me!

I would not proud persume -- but I'll boldly make reques'; Sence Jacob had dat wrastlin'-match, I, too, gwine do my bes'; When Jacob got all underholt, de Lord he answered Yes!

And what for waste de vittles, now, and th'ow away de bread, Jes' for to strength dese idle hands to scratch dis ole bald head?

T'ink of de 'conomy, Marster, ef dis ole Jim was dead!

Stop; -- ef I don't believe de Debble's gone on up de stream!