He
drew a large rocking-chair into the middle of the room, and
exclaimed:--
"There, Uncle Harry--you sit down. Come along, Tod--you sit on
that knee, and I'll sit on this. Lift up both hands, Tod, like I
do. Now we're all ready, Uncle Harry."
I sang the first line,--
"When Israel was in bondage, they cried unto de Lord," without any
assistance, but the boys came in powerfully on the refrain,
beating time simultaneously with their four fists upon my chest. I
cannot think it strange that I suddenly ceased singing, but the
boys viewed my action from a different standpoint.
"What makes you stop, Uncle Harry?" asked Budge.
"Because you hurt me badly, my boy; you mustn't do that again."
"Why, I guess you ain't very strong; that's the way we do to papa,
an' it don't hurt HIM."
Poor Tom! No wonder he grows flat--chested.
"Guesh you's a ky--baby," suggested Toddie.
This imputation I bore with meekness, but ventured to remark that
it was bed-time. After allowing a few moments for the usual
expressions of dissent, I staggered up--stairs with Toddie in my
arms, and Budge on my back, both boys roaring in refrain of the
negro hymn:--
"I'm a rolling through an Unfriendly World."
The offer of a stick of candy to whichever boy was first
undressed, caused some lively disrobing, after which each boy
received the prize.
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