But of co'se I ain't in no hurry, an' they's one joy I'd like to feel
befo' that time comes.
I'd love to hol' Sonny's baby in my ol' arms--his an' hers--an' to see
thet the good ol' name o' Jones has had safe transportation into one mo'
generation of honest folks.
Sonny an' Mary Elizabeth are too sweet-hearted an' true not to be
reproduced in detail, an' passed along.
This here ol' oak tree thet gran'pa planted when I was a kid, why, it'd
be a fine shady place for healthy girls an' boys to play under.
[Illustration: "Seem like a person don't no mo' 'n realize he's a
descendant befo' he's a' ancestor."]
When I set here by myself on this po'ch so much these days an'
think,--an' remember,--why I thess wonder over the passage o' time.
I ricollec' thess ez well when gran'pa planted that oak saplin'. My pa
he helt it stiddy an' I handed gran'pa the spade, an' we took off our
hats whilst he repeated a Bible tex'.
Yes, that ol' oak was religiously planted, an' we've tried not to offend
its first principles in no ways du'in' the years we've nurtured it.
An' when I set here an' look at it, an' consider its propensities,--it's
got five limbs that seem thess constructed to hold swings,--maybe it's
'cause I was raised Presbyterian an' sort o' can't git shet o' the
doctrine o' predestination, but I can't help seemin' to fo'-see them
friendly family limbs all fulfillin' their promises.
An' when I imagine myself a-settin' there with one little one a-climbin'
over me while the rest swings away, why, seem like a person don't no mo'
'n realize he's a descendant befo' he's a' ancestor.