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And then I sez, a lookin’ up from my knittin’ work:

“Be mejum, Josiah Allen; you don’t live there. You hain’t so good a judge as if you lived in the South; you hain’t so good a judge as John Richard is, for he has lived right there.”

And he snapped out real snappish:

“Wall, there is lots of places I never lived in, hain’t there? But anybody can know sunthin’, whether they live anywhere or not.”

But I kep’ on real mejum and a talkin’ deep reason, I know well.

“When anybody is a passin’ through deep waters, Josiah Allen, they can feel the cold waves and the chill as nobody can who is on dry land.”

And then Josiah said them inflammatory words agin that he had hurled at the head of John Richard, and that had gaulded him so. He sez in a loud, defiant axent, “Oh shaw!”

And I sez, “You hain’t there, Josiah Allen, and you hain’t so well qualified to shaw, and shaw accordin’ to principle, as if you wuz there.”

“Wall, I say, and contend for it,” sez he, almost hotly, “that there is too much dumb talk. Why don’t the niggers behave themselves, and why don’t the Southerners treat ’em as I treat Ury?