"Yes I do. You done parted from de faith, Unc' Henry, dat's what ails you." "No, I ain't parted from no faith, but I got too much sense ter b'lieve any man can git rain by asking fer hit." "Don't de Book say, 'Ask, an' you shall receive '?" "Not rain. Hit mean grace. When hit comes ter rain, de Lord don't let nobody fool wid him; he look atter de rain, 'specially hisse'f. Why, man, look at hit right! S'pose two men side by side pray diffunt an' wid faith what happen? Yonder's Mr. Ed'ards's oats ter be cut nex' week, an' on 'tother side de fence Unc' Jim's gyarden burnin' up. Mr. Ed'ards wants dry weather, an' Jim want rain, an' dey bofe pray deir own way! Bofe got faith, now, bofe got faith, an' one pray fer rain while t'other pray fer dry weather; what de Lord goin' do? Is he goin' ter split er rain on dat fence? Answer me! Don't turn yo' back ter me; answer me, Ben!" "You want my answer?" "Yes, I want hit. Don't stan' dah a stammerin'! What de Lord goin' do?" "You want my answer? Well, hyah 'tis. De Lord 'u'd sen' 'nough rain to help de gyarden, but not 'nough ter hurt de oats. Dat's my answer!" "You don't know what you all talkin' bout! Send 'nough rain ter help de gyarden, an' not 'nough to hurt de oats! You reckon Mr. Ed'ards let er nigger stay on dis place an' pray fer rain when he cuttin' oats? You reckon er nigger goin' ter come hyah an' run er market-gyarden wid 'im on sheers, an’ him er prayin' fer dry wedder when cabbage oughter be headin' up? No, sah! You c'n pray fer grace, an' when you gits grace you're all right, rain er no rain; but you better not resk yo'se'f on rain. Folks got ter have somebody ter settle when hit shall rain, an' when hit sha'n't rain. Faith ain' got nothin' ter do 'ith hit. It takes horse sense. Why, ef de Lord was ter tie er rope to de flood-gates, an' let hit down hyah ter be pulled when dey need rain, somebody'd git killed ev'y time dey pulled hit. Folks wid oats ter cut 'u'd lie out wid dey guns an' gyard dat rope, an' folks wid cabbages 'd be sneakin' up in de dyark tryin' ter git hold er hit. Fus' thing you know, er cem'tery grow up roun' dyah an' nobody lef' ter pull de rope!" "Faith 'u'd fetch it. Yes, sah, hit'll fetch hit." "You got any?" "Not 'nough ter fetch rain." "Yo' fam'bly got any?" "Not 'nough fer rain." "Well den it look like faith es 'bout as scyarce an' hard ter git as rain. Has Macedony Church got any? "Plenty." "Got 'nough fer rain?" "Plenty." y?" "Well den you go down dyah to prayer-meeting ter-night; an' take yo' fambly, an' all de niggers in de settlement what' got faith, - don't get none but faith niggers, - an' see ef you I hyah you all git er rain. You git rain, an' I'll give up. been prayin' fer me ter come in chu'ch cause de ole roof wants patchin' I reckon. Git de rain an' you gits me too. Go on, an' try hit. I ain't got no time ter waste. Fus' thing you know, rain'll be pourin' down, an' dat dah chu'ch'll be leakin' faster'n a sieve. You goin' ter git rain, Ben?" "Yes, I'm going' ter try. An' ef we have faith we'll git hit. Hit's a dry moon; ain't narry drop of water dyah, but faith c'n do hit." The next morning a thin little cloud floated out of the brazen east, a mere ghost of a cloud, and from it was sifted down for about two minutes the poorest apology that nature ever made to injured verdure. Soon it passed into nothingness, and the full sun blazed over the parched land once more. A triumphant laugh was heard out where the hands were hoeing, and Ben's voice was recognized above all the others. They were congratu lating him upon his success, when up came old Henry, his sack of carpenter's tools on his back. Ben shouted, "Hello, Unc' Henry. I told you we'd fetch hit." "Ben, did you say hit only taks faith as er grain er mustard seed ter move er mountain ?" "Yes, sah." "Well now, hyah's de whole of Macedony Church, full of faith niggers, a prayin' for rain, an' de whole pack o' 'em can't lay de dust!" FINNIGIN TO FLANNIGAN1 S. W. GILLILAN Superintindint wuz Flannigan; Boss of the siction wuz Finnigin; Whiniver the kyars got offen the thrack An' muddled up things t' th' divil an' back, Afther the wrick wuz all on agin. That is, this Finnigin Repoorted to Flannigan. Whin Finnigin furst writ to Flannigan An' he tould jist how the smash occurred Did Finnigin write to Flannigan Afther the cars had gone on agin. Repoorted to Flannigan. Now Flannigan knowed more than Finnigin - 1 By permission of the author. An' it wore 'm clane an' complately out Whin Finnigin got this frum Flannigan, An' he said: "I'll gamble a whole moonth's pa-ay Befoore Sup'rintindint - that's Flannigan Gits a whack at this very same sin agin. Repoorts won't be long agin." Wan da-ay on the siction of Finnigin, An' some kyears went off as they made the swerve. "There's nobody hurted," sez Finnigin, "But repoorts must be made to Flannigan," An' he winked at McGorrigan As married a Finnigin. He wus shantyin' thin, wuz Finnigin, As minny a railroader's been agin, An' the shmoky ol' lamp wuz burnin' bright In Finnigin's shanty all that night — Bilin' down his repoort, wuz Finnigin. An' he writed this here: "Muster Flannigan: GAVROCHE AND THE ELEPHANT 1 VICTOR HUGO [A story of how Gavroche, a street gamin of Paris, uses for a home the monument built in the form of a huge elephant, which Napoleon Bonaparte erected in 1823.] The forest has a bird. Paris a child. The bird is called a sparrow. The child—a gamin. This little being is joyous; he has not food every day; no shoes on his feet; not much clothing on his body. He runs, he swears like a convict, he haunts all the wine shops, knows all the thieves - but he has no evil in his heart. Little Gavroche was one of these. had been dispatched into life with a kick and had simply taken. flight. The pavements were less hard to him than his mother's heart. He One evening, little Gavroche was skipping along an alley, hands in his pockets and singing merrily, when he came upon a young man who had a wild, happy look in his eye, but no hat on his head. "Whoa there, monsieur, where's your roof? You've got enough light in them blinkers of yours to light up my apartments—say, monsieur, you're either crazy or you've had an awful good time!" "Be off with you, imp.” "Say, did you know there wus a goin' ter be war in this town in a few days and I'm goin' to enlist as general of the army Forward-March-Say, monsieur, I believe I know you, yes, sir, I've seen you down in that Napoleon meetin' way down there in that cellar "Oh, be off with you, imp!" "Yes, sir, I'm goin' now. Sorry I can't walk with you further, but business calls me in the other direction. "Good evenin', monsieur Watch out there. Can't ye 1 A dramatization from "Les Misérables," by Lucy Dean Jenkins. |