When it was ended, which was not until it had gone through persistent
repetitions, old Jim was prepared for almost anything.
"I s'pose you boys want a regular sermon," said he, "and if only I'd
'a' had the time--wal, I won't say what a torch-light procession of a
sermon you'd have got, but I'll do the best I can."
He cleared his throat, struck an attitude inseparable from American
elocution, and began:
"Fellow-citizens--and ladies and gentlemen--we--we're an ornary lot of
backwoods fellers, livin' away out here in the mountains and the brush,
but God Almighty 'ain't forgot us, all the same. He sent a little
youngster once to put a heartful of happiness into men, and He's sent
this little skeezucks here to show us boys we ain't shut off from
everything. He didn't send us no bonanza--like they say they've got in
Silver Treasury--but I wouldn't trade the little kid for all the
bullion they will ever melt. We ain't the prettiest lot of ducks I
ever saw, and we maybe blow the ten commandants all over the camp with
giant powder once in a while, lookin' 'round for gold, but, boys, we
ain't throwed out complete. We've got the love and pity of God
Almighty, sure, when he gives us, all to ourselves, a little helpless
feller for to raise.
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