An' Jonah found 'twas all dark
inside the whale, and there wasn't any fire there, an' it was all
wet, and he couldn't take off his clothes to dry, cos there wasn't
no place to hang 'em, an' there wasn't no windows to look out of,
nor nothin' to eat, nor nothin' nor nothin' nor nothin.' So he
asked the Lord to let Mm out, an' the Lord was sorry for him, an'
he made the whale go up close to the land, an' Jonah jumped right
out of his mouth, an' WASN'T he glad? An' then he went to Nineveh,
an' done what the Lord told him to, and he ought to have done it
in the first place if he had known what was good for him."
"Done first payshe, know what's dood for him," asserted Toddie, in
support of his brother's assertion. "Tell us 'nudder story."
"Oh, no, sing us a song," suggested Budge.
"Shing us shong," echoed Toddie.
I searched my mind for a song, but the only one which came
promptly was "M'Appari," several bars of which I gave my juvenile
audience, when Budge interrupted me, saying:--
"I don't think that's a very good song."
"Why not, Budge?"
"Cos I don't. I don't know a word what you're talking 'bout."
"Shing 'bout 'Glory, glory, hallelulyah,'" suggested Toddie, and I
meekly obeyed. The old air has a wonderful influence over me. I
heard it in western camp-meetings and negro-cabins when I was a
boy; I saw the 22d Massachusetts march down Broadway, singing the
same air during the rush to the front during the early days of the
war; I have heard it sung by warrior tongues in nearly every
Southern State; I heard it roared by three hundred good old Hunker
Democrats as they escorted New York's first colored regiment to
their place of embarkation; my old brigade sang it softly, but
with a swing that was terrible in its earnestness, as they lay
behind their stacks of arms just before going to action; I have
heard it played over the grave of many a dead comrade; the semi-
mutinous--the cavalry became peaceful and patriotic again as their
band-master played the old air after having asked permission to
try HIS hand on them; it is the same that burst forth
spontaneously in our barracks, on that glorious morning when we
learned that the war was over, and it was sung, with words adapted
to the occasion, by some good rebel friends of mine, on our first
social meeting after the war.
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