You’ve heard of Uncle Tom, most likely,
    And his old log-cabin, too;
  But for fear you’ve nothing recent,
    I proceed to enlighten you. 
  “Ah!” say you, “I’ve heard the story
    As it’s told by Mrs. Stowe,
  That old man is dead and buried,
    Must be years and years ago.”

  Prithee, check your swift conclusion,
    What you say can scarce be so,
  For I know that this one’s living
    That I saw two hours ago. 
  Old and gray, and slightly stooping,
    Black as ebony in hue,
  He’s a type of times departed,
    Tho’ he still survives the new,

  Talks as if he owned a quarry,
    Where they hew out slabs of gold,
  Tho’ to-day he gathered berries,
    Which he took to town and sold. 
  Never was a hinder hostess
    Than his old wife, Mary Ann,
  And her baking is delightful
    (To a very hungry man).

  Thither went I in the gloaming,
    For a night with Uncle Tom;
  In the yard we “took it easy”
    Till the supper time was come. 
  In a home-made crib beside him
    Cooed a yearling partly dressed;
  ’Round his chair a dirty dozen
    Whooped and yelled like all possessed.

  “Lord a’ mercy!  Here’s de teacher! 
    Chil’en run and fetch a chair;
  ‘Fo’ you come back dress yourselves,
    An’ git the keards and com’ yer hair.” 
  Sweeping over, children scattered,
    Dogs and cats sent to the rear,
  Uncle Tom, his pipe resuming,
    Once more settled in his chair.

  “I laid off to come to see ye
    During o’ de week dat’s passed;
  Must be scorin’ de chil’en heavy,
    Kase dey’re learnin’ pow’ful fast. 
  I believe in edication
    When you teach it wid a pole;
  Den you make ’im wise but humble,
    Ruin his back out save his soul.

  “Some folks b’lieve in pettiu’ chil’en;
    But I’ve raised enough to know,
  Sho’s you spare de rod you spile ’em. 
    Don’t the Good Book tell you so?”
  “Yes; but Uncle Tom,” I quoted,
    “Love will win where force will fail;
  Men are honest made by trusting
    In their honor”—­“Dat’s a tale;

  “Never ketch me trustin’ people,
    Do dey’re deacons in de church;
  Folks dat trust in human nature
    Allus git left in the lurch. 
  Der’s some migh’y funny things put up
    In dese packages called men,
  And good folks do mighty bad things
    Sometimes, jest bekase dey kin.”

* * * * *

  “Mr. Teacher, come to supper,”
    (And the chimney piece struck nine)
  “After dat we’ll drive to meetin’,
    ‘Viding you are of de min’. 
  Tell me you are Congregationan;
    First I ever heard de name;
  Must be like de Presbyter’an—­
    Name sounds very much de same.”

  An the simple meal proceeded,
    Quickened by the savory food,
  Uncle Tom, from cynic terseness,
    Fell into a happier mood. 
  “I was overseer in slave time,
    And a mean un, so dey say,
  Strapped Ma’ Ann so much, ha! ha! 
    She married me to git away.