The Writings of Bret Harte standard library edition |
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DEACON JONES'S EXPERIENCE
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 | The Writings of Bret Harte |  |
DEACON JONES'S EXPERIENCE
(ARKANSAS CONFERENCE) 1874
Ye're right when you lays it down, Parson,
Thet the flesh is weak and a snare;
And to keep yer plow in the furrow—
When yer cattle begins to rare—
Ain't no sure thing. And, between us,
The same may be said of prayer.
Thet the flesh is weak and a snare;
And to keep yer plow in the furrow—
When yer cattle begins to rare—
Ain't no sure thing. And, between us,
The same may be said of prayer.
Why, I stood the jokes, on the river,
Of the boys, when the critters found
Thet I 'd jined the Church, and the snicker
Thet, maybe ye mind, went round,
The day I set down with the mourners,
In the old camp-meetin' ground!
Of the boys, when the critters found
Thet I 'd jined the Church, and the snicker
Thet, maybe ye mind, went round,
The day I set down with the mourners,
In the old camp-meetin' ground!
386
I stood all that, and I reckon
I might at a pinch stood more—
For the boys, they represents Bael,
And I stands as the Rock of the Law;
And it seemed like a moral scrimmage,
In holdin' agin their jaw.
I might at a pinch stood more—
For the boys, they represents Bael,
And I stands as the Rock of the Law;
And it seemed like a moral scrimmage,
In holdin' agin their jaw.
But thar 's crosses a Christian suffers,
As hez n't got that pretense—
Things with no moral purpose,
Things ez hez got no sense;
Things ez, somehow, no profit
Will cover their first expense.
As hez n't got that pretense—
Things with no moral purpose,
Things ez hez got no sense;
Things ez, somehow, no profit
Will cover their first expense.
Ez how! I was jest last evenin'
Addressin' the Throne of Grace,
And mother knelt in the corner,
And each of the boys in his place—
When that sneakin' pup of Keziah's
To Jonathan's cat giv chase!
Addressin' the Throne of Grace,
And mother knelt in the corner,
And each of the boys in his place—
When that sneakin' pup of Keziah's
To Jonathan's cat giv chase!
I never let on to mind 'em,
I never let on to hear;
But driv that prayer down the furrow
With the cat hidin' under my cheer,
And Keziah a-whisperin', “Sic her!”
And mother a-sayin', “You dare!”
I never let on to hear;
But driv that prayer down the furrow
With the cat hidin' under my cheer,
And Keziah a-whisperin', “Sic her!”
And mother a-sayin', “You dare!”
I asked fer a light fer the heathen,
To guide on his narrer track,
With that dog and that cat jest walzin',
And Jonathan's face jest black,
When the pup made a rush and the kitten—
Dropped down on the small of my back.
To guide on his narrer track,
With that dog and that cat jest walzin',
And Jonathan's face jest black,
When the pup made a rush and the kitten—
Dropped down on the small of my back.
387
Yes, I think, with the Lud's assistance,
I might have continered then,
If, gettin' her holt, that kitten
Hed n't dropped her claws in me—when
It somehow reached the “Old Adam,”
And I jumped to my feet with “Amen.”
I might have continered then,
If, gettin' her holt, that kitten
Hed n't dropped her claws in me—when
It somehow reached the “Old Adam,”
And I jumped to my feet with “Amen.”
So, ye 're right when you say it, Parson,
Thet the flesh is weak and a snare;
And to keep yer plow in the furrow—
When yer cattle begins to rare—
Ain't no sure thing. And, between us,
I say it 's jest so with prayer.
Thet the flesh is weak and a snare;
And to keep yer plow in the furrow—
When yer cattle begins to rare—
Ain't no sure thing. And, between us,
I say it 's jest so with prayer.
| The Writings of Bret Harte | |