It happened that in order that the revival spirit should be quickened,
it was arranged that the preacher should give a signal when he thought
the excitement was highest, and from the attic through a hole cut in the
ceiling directly over the pulpit, the sexton was to shove a pure white
dove, whose flight around the church and over the heads of the audience
was expected to have an inspiring effect, and, as far as emotional
excitement was concerned, to cap the climax.
All went well at the start; the church was packed; the preacher's text
was, "In the form of a dove," and as he piled up his eloquent periods
the excitement was strong.
Then the opportune moment arrived--the signal was given--and the packed
audience was scared out of its wits on looking up to the ceiling and
beholding a cat, with a clothesline around its middle, yowling and
spitting, being lowered over the preacher's head.
[Illustration]
The preacher called to the sexton in the attic:
"Whar's de dove?"
And the sexton's voice came down through the opening so you could hear
it a block:
"Inside de cat!"
But, say, I want to tell you about a genuine farmer that I struck down
South.
He lived from hand to mouth, was about as ugly a specimen as the sun
ever shone upon, and yet would you believe it this fellow actually
thought himself to be the Robby Burns of Alabama?
One of his shadow hogs chanced to be wandering on the railway, and, as
sometimes happens, was transformed into bacon ready for the pan.
Naturally he started to collect damages, even while he smoked the
remains, and here is the result:
[Illustration]
"My razorback strolled down your track
A week ago to-day;
Your 29 came down the line
And snuffed his light away.
"You can't blame me--the hog, you see,
Slipped through a cattle gate;
So kindly pen a check for ten,
The debt to liquidate."
However, the game didn't pan out as he expected, for there chanced to be
a match for his genius in the office of the railroad, and shortly after
Skeezer received the following poetic reply:
[Illustration: "Here lies a foolish swine"]
"Old 29 came down the line
And killed your hog, we know;
But razorbacks on railroad tracks
Quite often meet with woe.
"Therefore, my friend, we cannot send
The check for which you pine,
Just plant the dead; place o'er his head:
'Here lies a foolish swine.'"
As I have said, old Skeezer was always so dilapidated, and his person so
soiled, that he had become a by-word of reproach in the neighborhood.
Even respectable darkies scorned to be seen in his society, and he found
his only solace among his swine.
Why, his boy, just turned six, barelegged and far from clean himself,
had some knowledge of his pa's shortcomings.
[Illustration]