For a nigger, you-all is
a mighty sight too vol'tile. Your sperits is too tireless, an' stays
too long on the wing. Which, onless you cultivates a placider mood
an' studies reepose a whole lot, I'll go foragin' about in my
plunder an' search forth a quirt, or mebby some sech stinsin' trifle
as a trace-chain, an' warp you into quietood an' peace. I reckons
now sech ceremonies would go some ways towards beddin' you down an'
inculcatin' lessons of patience a heap."
The undaunted Tom listened to his master's gloomy threats with an
air of cheer. There was a happy grin on his face as he accepted the
money and scraped a "Thanky, sah!" To leave a religious impression
which seemed most consistent with the basis of Tom's appeal, that
dusky claimant of ten dollars, as he withdrew, hummed softly a camp-
meeting song:
"Tu'n around an' tu'n yo' face,
Untoe them sweet hills o' grace.
(D' pow'rs of Sin yo' em scornin'!)
Look about an' look aroun',
Fling yo' sin-pack on d' groun'.
(Yo' will meet wid d' Lord in d' mornin'.)"
"Speakin' about this yere vacillatin' Tom," said the old gentleman,
as he watched that person disappear, "shiftin' his religious grazin'
ground that a-way, let me tell you.
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