YOU'VE seen his place, I reckon, friend?
  'Twus rather kind uv tryin'
The way he make the dollars fly,
  Sech gimcrack things a-buyin'--
    He spent a big share uv a fortun
    On pesky things thet went a-snortin'

An' hollerin' over all the fields,
  An' ploughin' ev'ry furrow;
We sort uv felt discouraged, fur
  Spense wusn't one tew borrow;
    An' wuss--the old chap wouldn't lend
    A cent's wuth tew his dearest friend.

Good lands! the neighbours see'd tew wunst
  Them snortin', screamin' notions
Wus jest enough tew drown the yearth
  In wrath, like roarin' oceans;
    An' "guessed the Lord would giv old Spense
    Blue fits fur fightin' Pruvidence."

Spense wus thet hardened when the yearth
  Wus like a baked pertater,
Insted uv prayin' hard fur rain,
  He fetched an irrigator.
    "The wicked flourish like green bays!"
    Sed folks fur comfort in them days.

I Will allow his place wus grand,
  With not a stump upon it;
The loam wus jest es rich an' black
  Es schoolma'am's velvet bonnit;
    But tho' he flourished folks all knowed
    What spiritooal ear-marks he showed.

Spense hed a notion in his mind,
  Ef sum poor human grapples
With pesky worms thet eat his vines
  An' spile his summer apples,
    It don't seem enny kind uv sense
    Tew call thet "cheekin" Pruvidence!"

An' ef a chap on Sabbath sees
  A thunder cloud a-strayin'
Above his fresh cut clover, an'
  Gits down tew steddy prayin',
    An' tries tew shew the Lord's mistake
    Insted uv tacklin' tew his rake,

He ain't got enny kind uv show
  Tew talk uv chast'ning trials
When thet thar thunder cloud lets down
  Its sixty billion vials.
    No! when it looks tew rain on hay,
    First take yer rake an' then yer pray.

Old Spense wus one uv them thar chaps
  Thet in this life uv tussle
An' rough-an-tumble sort uv set
  A mighty store on muscle;
    Believed in hustlin' in the crop,
    An' prayin' on the last load top.

An' yet he hed his p'ints--his heart
  Wus builded sort uv spacious
An' solid, ev'ry beam an' plank;
  An', Stranger, now, veracious,
    A wore-out hoss he never shot,
    But turned him in the clover lot.

I've see'd up tew the meetin-house
  The winkin' an' the nudgin'
When preacher sed, "No doubt thet Dives,
  Bein' drefful mean an' grudgin'
    Tew church work, sealed his awful fate
    Whar thar ain't no foolin' with the gate,"

I mind the preacher met old Spense,
  Beneath the maples laggin';
The day wus hot, an' he'd a pile
  Uv 'cetrees in his waggon--
    A sack of flour, a hansum hog,
    Sum butter, an' his tarrier dog.

Preacher, he halted up his hoss,
  Asked fur Miss Spense an' Deely,
Tew limber up his tongue a mite,
  An' sez right slick an' mealy:
    "Brother, I reelly want tew know
    Hev you got religion?  Samson, whoa!"

Old Spense, he bit a noble chaw,
  An' sort uv meditated;
Samson, he nibbled at the grass,
  An' preacher smiled an' waited;
    Ye'd see it writ upon his face:
    "I've got Spense in a tightsum place!"

The old man curled his whip-lash round
  An alto-viced muskitter;
Preacher, sort uv triumphant, stroked
  His or'nary old critter;
    Spense p'ints tew flour, an' hog, an' jar--
    Sez he, "I've got religion thar.

"Them's goin' down tew Spinks's place,
  Whar old man Spinks is stayin'
The bank he dealt at bust last month,
  An' folks is mostly sayin',
    Him bein' aged, an' poor, an' sick,
    They'll put him in the poorhouse slick.

"But no, they don't!  Not while I won
  The name uv Jedediah.
Yer movin'?  How's yer gran'man Green,
  An' yer cousin, Ann Maria?
    Boss, air they?  Yas, sirree, I dar
    Tew say, I've got religion thar."

Preacher, he in his stirrups riz,
  His visage kind uv cheerin',
An' keerful looked along the road,
  Over sugar bush an' clearin';
    Thar wa'n't a deacon within sight;
    Sez, he, "My brother, guess you're right!

"You keep yer waggon Zionward,
  With that religion on it;
I calculate we'll meet"--jest here
  A caliker sunbonnet,
    On a sister's head, cum round the jog,
    An' preacher disparsed like morning' fog.

One day a kind uv judgement cum.
  The lightnin'-rod conductor
Got broke; the fluid struck his aunt,
  An' in the root-house chucked her.
    It laid her up fur quite a while,
    An' the judgment made the neighbours smile.

Old Spense he swore a mighty swar;
  He didn't mince nor chew it,
Fur when he spoke, 'most usual,
  It hed a backbone tew it;
    He sed he'd find a healthy plan
    Tew squar things with the Agent man

Who'd sold him thet thar useless rod
  Tew put upon his roofin';
An' ef he found him round the place,
  He'd send the scamp a-hoofin'.
    "Ye sort uv understand my sense?"
    "Yes, pa," sed pooty Deely Spense.

"Yes, pa" sez she, es mild es milk,
  Tew thet thar strong oration;
An' when a woman acts like that,
  It's bin my obsarvation--
    An' reckon thet ye'll find it sound--
    She means tew turn creation round,

An' fix the univarse the way
  She sort uv feels the notion.
So Deely let the old man rave,
  Nor kicked up no commotion;
    Tho' thet cute Agent man an' she
    Were knowed es steddy company.

He'd chance around when Spense wus out,
  A feller sort o' airy;
An' poke around free es the wind
  With Deely in the dairy.
    (Old Spense he'd got a patent churn
    Thet gev the church a drefful turn.)

I am a married man myself,
  More sot on steddy ploughin'
An' cuttin' rails than praisin' gals,
  Yet honestly allowin'
    A man must be main hard tew please
    Thet didn't freeze tew Deely's cheese.

I reckon tho' old Spense hed signed
  With Satan queer law papers,
He'd filled thet dairy up chock-full
  Uv them thar patent capers.
    Preacher once took fur sermon text--
    "Rebellious patent vats--what next?"

I've kind uv strayed frum thet thar scare
  Thet cum on Spense--thro' reely,
I'll allus hold it wus a sine
  Uv thet thar pooty Deely.
    Thar's them es holds, thru thin an' thick,
    'Twus a friendly visit frum Old Nick.

Es time went on old Spense, he seemed
  More sot on patent capers;
So he went right off tew fetch a thing
  He'd read uv in the papers.
    'Twus a moony night in airly June.
    The whippoorwills wus all in tune,

The katydids wus callin' clar,
  The fire-bugs wus a-glowin',
The smell uv clover filled the air.
  Thet day old Spense'd bin mowin'
    With a mower yellin' drefful screams,
    Like them skreeks we hear in nightmare dreams.

Miss Spense wus in the keepin'-room
  O'erlookin'last yar's cherries;
The help wus settin' on the bench
  A-hullin' airly berries;
    The hired man sot on the step
    An' chawed an' watched the crickets lep.

Not one uv them thar folks thet thought
  Uv Deely in the dairy:
The help thought on the hired man,
  An' he uv Martin's Mary;
    Miss Spense, she pondered thet she'd found
    Crushed sugar'd riz a cent a pound.

I guess hed you an' I bin thar,
  A-peepin' thru the shutter
Uv thet thar dairy, we'd 'a' swore
  Old Spense's cheese an' butter
    Wus gilded, frum the manner that
    Deely, she smiled on pan an' vat.

The Agent, he hed chanced around
  In evenin's peaceful shadder;
He'd glimpsed Spense an' his tarrier go
  Across the new-mown medder
    To'ard Crampville; so he shewed his sense
    By slidin' o'er the garden fence;

An' kind of unassumin' glode,
  Beneath the bendin' branches,
Tew the dairy door whar Deely watched,
  A-twitterin' an' anxious.
    It didn't suit Miss Deely's plan
    Her pa should ketch thet Agent man.

I kind uv mind, them days I went
  With Betsy Ann a-sparkin'
Time hed a drefful sneakin' way
  Uv passin' without markin'
    A single blaze upon a post,
    An' walkin' noiseless es a ghost.

I guess thet Adam found it thus
  Afore he hed to grapple
With thet conundrum Satan raised
  About the blamed old apple;
    He found time sort uv smart tew pass
    Afore Eve took tew apple-sass.

Thar ain't no changes cum about
  Sence them old days in Eden,
Except thet lovers take a spell
  Uv mighty hearty feedin';
    Now Adam makes his Eve rejice
    By orderin' up a lemon-ice.

He ain't got enny kind uv show
  Tew hear the merry pealin's
Uv them thar weddin' bells, unless
  He kind uv stirs her feelin's
    By treatin' her tew ginger-pop,
    An' pillin' peanuts in a-top.

Thet Agent man knowed how tew run
  The business real handy;
An' him an' Deely sot an' laughed
  An' scrunched a pile o' candy;
    An' talk'd about the singin' skule--
    An' stars--an' Spense's kickin' mule--

An' other elevatin' facts
  In skyence an' in natur.
An' time, es I wus sayin', glode
  Past like a champion skater,
    When--thunder! round the orchard fence
    Cum thet thar tarrier dog an' Spence,

An' made straight fur the dairy door.
  Thar's times in most experence
We feel how trooly wise 'twould be
  Tew make a rapid clearance;
    Nor wait tew practise them thar rules
    We larn tew city dancin' skules.

The Agent es a gen'ral plan
  Wus polished es the handles
Uv my old plough, an' slick an' smooth
  Es Betsey's taller candles;
    But when he see'd old Spense--wal, now,
    He acted homely es a cow!

His manners wusn't in the grain,
  His wool wus sorter shoddy;
His courage wus a poorish sort,
  It hedn't got no body;
    An' when he see'd old Spense, he shook
    Es ef he'd see'd his gran'ma's spook.

Deely, she wrung her pooty hands--
  She felt her heart a-turnin'
Es poor es milk when all the cream
  Is taken off fur churnin';
    When all tew once her eyes fell pat
    Upon old Spense's patent vat.

The Agent took no sort uv stock
  Thet time in etiquettin';
It would hev made a punkin laugh
  Tew see his style uv gettin';
    In thet thar empty vat he slid,
    An' Deely shet the hefty lid.

Old Spense wus smilin' jest es clar
  Es stars in the big "Dipper";
An' Deely made believe tew hum
   "Old Hundred" gay an' chipper,--
    But thinkin' what a tightsum squeeze
    The vat was fur the Agent's knees.

Old Spense, he sed, "I guess, my gal,
  Ye've bin a sort uv dreamin';
I see ye hevn't set the pans,
  Nor turned the mornin's cream in.
    Now, ain't ye spry?  Now, durn my hat
    Ef the milk's run inter thet thar vat!"

Thar's times one's feelin's swell like bread
  In summer-time a-risin',
An' Deely's heart swole in a way
  Wus mightily surprisin',
    When Spense gripped one uv them thar pans
    Uv yaller cream in his big han's.

The moon glode underneath a cloud,
  The breeze sighed loud an' airy;
The pans, they faint-like glimmered on
  The white walls uv the dairy.
    Deely, she trembled like an ash,
    An' leaned agin the old churn dash.

"Tarnation darksum," growled old Spense,
  An', liftin' up the cover,
He turned the pan uv cream quite spry
  On Deely's Agent lover.
    Good sakes alive! a curdlin' shreek
    Frum thet thar Agent man did break!

All drippin' white he rosed tew view,
  His curly locks a-flowin'
With clotted cream, an' in the dusk
  His eyes with terror glowin'.
    He made one spring--'tis sartin, reely,
    He never sed "Good night" tew Deely.

Old Spense, he riz up frum the ground,
  An' with a kind uv wonder
He looked inter thet patent vat,
  An' simply sed, "By thunder!"
    Then looked at Deely hard, and sed,
    "The milk will sop clar thru his head."

Folks looked right solemn when they heerd
  The hull uv thet thar story,
An' sed, "It might be plainly seen
  'Twus clar agin the glory
    Uv Pruvidence tew use a vat
    Thet Satan in hed boldly sat!"

They shook thair heads when Spense declared
  'Twus Deely's beau in hidin';
They guessed they knowed a thing or two,
  An' wusn't so confidin':
    "'Twus the Devourin' Lion cum
    Tew ask old Spense tew step down hum!"

Old Spense, he kinder spiled the thing
  Fur thet thar congregation
By holdin' on tew life in spite
  Uv Satan's invitation;
    An' hurts thair feelin's ev'ry Spring,
    Buyin' sum pesky patent thing.

The Agent man slid out next day
  Tew peddle round Young Hyson;
An' Deely fur a fortnight thought
  Uv drinkin' sum rat pison;
    Didn't put no papers in her har,
    An' dined out uv the pickle jar.

Then at Aunt Hesby's sewin'-bee
  She met a slick young feller,
With a city partin' tew his har
  An' a city umbereller.
    He see'd her hum thet night, an' he
    Is now her steddy company.