But he a'n't no singin'-master--not of I'm any jedge of turnips.

He warn't born to sarve his day and generation with a tunin'-fork.

I think he's a-goin' to reckon-water a little in these parts and that he's only a-playin' singin'-master.

He kin play more fiddles'n one, you bet a hoss! Says he come up here fer his wholesome, and I guess he did.

Think ef he'd a-staid where he was, he mout a-suffered a leetle from confinement to his room, and that room p'raps not more nor five foot by nine, and ruther dim-lighted and poor-provisioned, an' not much chance fer takin' exercise in the fresh air!" [Illustration: "DON'T BE ONCHARITABLE, JONAS."] "Don't be oncharitable, Jonas, don't.