Chapter 14

Dear Miss Lucy: I been t'inkin' dat I 'd write you long fo' dis, But dis writin' 's mighty tejous, an' you know jes' how it is. But I 's got a little lesure, so I teks my pen in han' Fu' to let you know my feelin's since I retched dis furrin' lan'. I 's right well, I 's glad to tell you (dough dis climate ain't to blame), An' I hopes w'en dese lines reach you, dat dey 'll fin' yo' se'f de same. Cose I 'se feelin kin' o' homesick--dat 's ez nachul ez kin be, Wen a feller 's mo'n th'ee thousand miles across dat awful sea. (Don't you let nobidy fool you 'bout de ocean bein' gran'; If you want to see de billers, you jes' view dem f'om de lan'.) 'Bout de people? We been t'inkin' dat all white folks was alak; But dese Englishmen is diffunt, an' dey 's curus fu' a fac'. Fust, dey's heavier an' redder in dey make-up an' dey looks, An' dey don't put salt nor pepper in a blessed t'ing dey cooks! Wen dey gin you good ol' tu'nips, ca'ots, pa'snips, beets, an' sich, Ef dey ain't some one to tell you, you cain't 'stinguish which is which. Wen I t'ought I 's eatin' chicken--you may b'lieve dis hyeah 's a lie-- But de waiter beat me down dat I was eatin' rabbit pie. An' dey 'd t'ink dat you was crazy--jes' a reg'lar ravin' loon, Ef you 'd speak erbout a 'possum or a piece o' good ol' coon. O, hit's mighty nice, dis trav'lin', an' I 's kin' o' glad I come. But, I reckon, now I 's willin' fu' to tek my way back home. I done see de Crystal Palace, an' I 's hyeahd dey string-band play, But I has n't seen no banjos layin' nowhahs roun' dis way. Jes' gin ol' Jim Bowles a banjo, an' he 'd not go very fu', 'Fo' he 'd outplayed all dese fiddlers, wif dey flourish and dey stir. Evahbiddy dat I 's met wif has been monst'ous kin an' good; But I t'ink I 'd lak it better to be down in Jones's wood, Where we ust to have sich frolics, Lucy, you an' me an' Nelse, Dough my appetite 'ud call me, ef dey was n't nuffin else. I 'd jes' lak to have some sweet-pertaters roasted in de skin; I 's a-longin' fu' my chittlin's an' my mustard greens ergin; I 's a-wishin' fu' some buttermilk, an' co'n braid, good an' brown, An' a drap o' good ol' bourbon fu' to wash my feelin's down! An' I 's comin' back to see you jes' as ehly as I kin, So you better not go spa'kin' wif dat wuffless scoun'el Quin! Well, I reckon, I mus' close now; write ez soon's dis reaches you; Gi' my love to Sister Mandy an' to Uncle Isham, too. Tell de folks I sen' 'em howdy; gin a kiss to pap an' mam; Closin' I is, deah Miss Lucy, Still Yo' Own True-Lovin' Sam.

P. S. Ef you cain't mek out dis letter, lay it by erpon de she'f, An' when I git home, I 'll read it, darlin', to you my own se'f.

CHRISMUS IS A-COMIN'

Bones a-gittin' achy, Back a-feelin' col', Han's a-growin' shaky, Jes' lak I was ol'. Fros' erpon de meddah Lookin' mighty white; Snowdraps lak a feddah Slippin' down at night. Jes' keep t'ings a-hummin' Spite o' fros' an' showahs, Chrismus is a-comin' An' all de week is ouahs.

Little mas' a-axin', "Who is Santy Claus?" Meks it kin' o' taxin' Not to brek de laws. Chillun 's pow'ful tryin' To a pusson's grace Wen dey go a pryin' Right on th'oo you' face Down ermong yo' feelin's; Jes' 'pears lak dat you Got to change you' dealin's So 's to tell 'em true.

An' my pickaninny-- Dreamin' in his sleep! Come hyeah, Mammy Jinny, Come an' tek a peep. Ol Mas' Bob an' Missis In dey house up daih Got no chile lak dis is, D' ain't none anywhaih. Sleep, my little lammy, Sleep, you little limb, He do' know whut mammy Done saved up fu' him.

Dey 'll be banjo pickin', Dancin' all night thoo. Dey 'll be lots o' chicken, Plenty tukky, too. Drams to wet yo' whistles So 's to drive out chills. Whut I keer fu' drizzles Fallin' on de hills? Jes' keep t'ings a-hummin' Spite o' col' an' showahs, Chrismus day 's a-comin', An' all de week is ouahs.

A CABIN TALE

THE YOUNG MASTER ASKS FOR A STORY

Whut you say, dah? huh, uh! chile, You 's enough to dribe me wile. Want a sto'y; jes' hyeah dat! Whah' 'll I git a sto'y at? Di'n' I tell you th'ee las' night? Go 'way, honey, you ain't right. I got somep'n' else to do, 'Cides jes' tellin' tales to you. Tell you jes' one? Lem me see Whut dat one's a-gwine to be. When you 's ole, yo membry fails; Seems lak I do' know no tales. Well, set down dah in dat cheer, Keep still ef you wants to hyeah. Tek dat chin up off yo' han's, Set up nice now. Goodness lan's! Hol' yo'se'f up lak yo' pa. Bet nobidy evah saw Him scrunched down lak you was den-- High-tone boys meks high-tone men.

Once dey was a ole black bah, Used to live 'roun' hyeah some whah In a cave. He was so big He could ca'y off a pig Lak you picks a chicken up, Er yo' leetles' bit o' pup. An' he had two gread big eyes, Jes' erbout a saucer's size. Why, dey looked lak balls o' fiah Jumpin' 'roun' erpon a wiah W'en dat bah was mad; an' laws! But you ought to seen his paws! Did I see 'em? How you 'spec I 's a-gwine to ricollec' Dis hyeah ya'n I 's try'n' to spin Ef you keeps on puttin' in? You keep still an' don't you cheep Less I 'll sen' you off to sleep. Dis hyeah bah 'd go trompin' 'roun' Eatin' evahthing he foun'; No one could n't have a fa'm But dat bah 'u'd do' em ha'm; And dey could n't ketch de scamp. Anywhah he wan'ed to tramp. Dah de scoun'el 'd mek his track, Do his du't an' come on back. He was sich a sly ole limb, Traps was jes' lak fun to him.

Now, down neah whah Mistah Bah Lived, dey was a weasel dah; But dey was n't fren's a-tall Case de weasel was so small. An' de bah 'u'd, jes' fu' sass, Tu'n his nose up w'en he 'd pass. Weasels 's small o' cose, but my! Dem air animiles is sly. So dis hyeah one says, says he, "I 'll jes' fix dat bah, you see." So he fixes up his plan An' hunts up de fa'merman. When de fa'mer see him come, He 'mence lookin' mighty glum, An' he ketches up a stick; But de weasel speak up quick: "Hol' on, Mistah Fa'mer man, I wan' 'splain a little plan. Ef you waits, I 'll tell you whah An' jes' how to ketch ol' Bah. But I tell yow now you mus' Gin me one fat chicken fus'." Den de man he scratch his haid, Las' he say, "I'll mek de trade." So de weasel et his hen, Smacked his mouf and says, "Well, den, Set yo' trap an' bait ternight, An' I 'll ketch de bah all right." Den he ups an' goes to see Mistah Bah, an' says, says he: "Well, fren' Bah, we _ain't_ been fren's, But ternight ha'd feelin' 'en's. Ef you ain't too proud to steal, We kin git a splendid meal. Cose I would n't come to you, But it mus' be done by two; Hit's a trap, but we kin beat All dey tricks an' git de meat." "Cose I 's wif you," says de bah, "Come on, weasel, show me whah." Well, dey trots erlong ontwell Dat air meat beginned to smell In de trap. Den weasel say: "Now you put yo' paw dis way While I hol' de spring back so, Den you grab de meat an' go." Well, de bah he had to grin Ez he put his big paw in, Den he juked up, but--kerbing! Weasel done let go de spring. "Dah now," says de weasel, "dah, I done cotched you, Mistah Bah!" O, dat bah did sno't and spout, Try'n' his bestes' to git out, But de weasel say, "Goo'-bye! Weasel small, but weasel sly." Den he tu'ned his back an' run Tol' de fa'mer whut he done. So de fa'mer come down dah, Wif a axe and killed de bah.

Dah now, ain't dat sto'y fine? Run erlong now, nevah min'. Want some mo', you rascal, you? No, suh! no, suh! dat 'll do.

AT CANDLE-LIGHTIN' TIME

When I come in f'om de co'n-fiel' aftah wo'kin' ha'd all day, It 's amazin' nice to fin' my suppah all erpon de way; An' it 's nice to smell de coffee bubblin' ovah in de pot, An' it 's fine to see de meat a-sizzlin' teasin'-lak an' hot.

But when suppah-time is ovah, an' de t'ings is cleahed away; Den de happy hours dat foller are de sweetes' of de day. When my co'ncob pipe is sta'ted, an' de smoke is drawin' prime, My ole 'ooman says, "I reckon, Ike, it 's candle-lightin' time."

Den de chillun snuggle up to me, an' all commence to call, "Oh, say, daddy, now it 's time to mek de shadders on de wall." So I puts my han's togethah--evah daddy knows de way,-- An' de chillun snuggle closer roun' ez I begin to say:--

"Fus' thing, hyeah come Mistah Rabbit; don' you see him wo'k his eahs? Huh, uh! dis mus' be a donkey,--look, how innercent he 'pears! Dah 's de ole black swan a-swimmin'--ain't she got a' awful neck? Who 's dis feller dat 's a-comin'? Why, dat 's ole dog Tray, I 'spec'!"

Dat 's de way I run on, tryin' fu' to please 'em all I can; Den I hollahs, "Now be keerful--dis hyeah las' 's de buga-man!" An' dey runs an' hides dey faces; dey ain't skeered--dey 's lettin' on: But de play ain't raaly ovah twell dat buga-man is gone.

So I jes' teks up my banjo, an' I plays a little chune, An' you see dem haids come peepin' out to listen mighty soon. Den my wife says, "Sich a pappy fu' to give you sich a fright! Jes, you go to baid, an' leave him: say yo' prayers an' say good-night."

WHISTLING SAM

I has hyeahd o' people dancin' an' I 's hyeahd o' people singin'. An' I 's been 'roun' lots of othahs dat could keep de banjo ringin'; But of all de whistlin' da'kies dat have lived an' died since Ham, De whistlin'est I evah seed was ol' Ike Bates's Sam. In de kitchen er de stable, in de fiel' er mowin' hay, You could hyeah dat boy a-whistlin' pu'ty nigh a mile erway,-- Puck'rin' up his ugly features 'twell you could n't see his eyes, Den you 'd hyeah a soun' lak dis un f'om dat awful puckah rise:

When dey had revival meetin' an' de Lawd's good grace was flowin' On de groun' dat needed wat'rin' whaih de seeds of good was growin', While de othahs was a-singin' an' a-shoutin' right an' lef, You could hyeah dat boy a-whistlin' kin' o' sof beneaf his bref:

At de call fu' colo'ed soldiers, Sam enlisted 'mong de res' Wid de blue o' Gawd's great ahmy wropped about his swellin' breas', An' he laffed an' whistled loudah in his youfful joy an' glee Dat de govament would let him he'p to mek his people free. Daih was lots o' ties to bin' him, pappy, mammy, an' his Dinah,-- Dinah, min' you, was his sweet-hea't, an' dey was n't nary finah; But he lef 'em all, I tell you, lak a king he ma'ched away, Try'n' his level bes' to whistle, happy, solemn, choky, gay:

To de front he went an' bravely fought de foe an' kep' his sperrit, An' his comerds said his whistle made 'em strong when dey could hyeah it. When a saber er a bullet cut some frien' o' his'n down, An' de time 'u'd come to trench him an' de boys 'u'd gethah 'roun', An' dey could n't sta't a hymn-tune, mebbe none o' dem 'u'd keer, Sam 'u'd whistle "Sleep in Jesus," an' he knowed de Mastah 'd hyeah. In de camp, all sad discouraged, he would cheer de hea'ts of all, When above de soun' of labour dey could hyeah his whistle call:

When de cruel wah was ovah an' de boys come ma'chin' back, Dey was shouts an' cries an' blessin's all erlong dey happy track, An' de da'kies all was happy; souls an' bodies bofe was freed. Why, hit seemed lak de Redeemah mus' 'a' been on earf indeed. Dey was gethahed all one evenin' jes' befo' de cabin do', When dey hyeahd somebody whistlin' kin' o' sof' an' sweet an' low. Dey could n't see de whistlah, but de hymn was cleah and ca'm, An' dey all stood daih a-listenin' ontwell Dinah shouted, "Sam!" An' dey seed a little da'ky way off yandah thoo de trees Wid his face all in a puckah mekin' jes' sich soun's ez dese:

HOW LUCY BACKSLID

De times is mighty stirrin' 'mong de people up ouah way, Dey 'sputin' an' dey argyin' an' fussin' night an' day; An' all dis monst'ous trouble dat hit meks me tiahed to tell Is 'bout dat Lucy Jackson dat was sich a mighty belle.

She was de preachah's favoured, an' he tol' de chu'ch one night Dat she travelled thoo de cloud o' sin a-bearin' of a light; But, now, I 'low he t'inkin' dat she mus' 'a' los' huh lamp, Case Lucy done backslided an' dey trouble in de camp.

Huh daddy wants to beat huh, but huh mammy daihs him to, Fu' she lookin' at de question f'om a ooman's pint o' view; An' she say dat now she would n't have it diff'ent ef she could; Dat huh darter only acted jes' lak any othah would.

Cose you know w'en women argy, dey is mighty easy led By dey hea'ts an' don't go foolin' 'bout de reasons of de haid. So huh mammy laid de law down (she ain' reckernizin' wrong), But you got to mek erlowance fu' de cause dat go along.

Now de cause dat made Miss Lucy fu' to th'ow huh grace away I 's afeard won't baih no 'spection w'en hit come to jedgement day; Do' de same t'ing been a-wo'kin' evah sence de worl' began,-- De ooman disobeyin' fu' to 'tice along a man.

Ef you 'tended de revivals which we held de wintah pas', You kin rickolec' dat convuts was a-comin' thick an' fas'; But dey ain't no use in talkin', dey was all lef' in de lu'ch W'en ol' Mis' Jackson's dartah foun' huh peace an' tuk de chu'ch.

W'y, she shouted ovah evah inch of Ebenezah's flo'; Up into de preachah's pulpit an' f'om dah down to de do'; Den she hugged an' squeezed huh mammy, an' she hugged an' kissed huh dad, An' she struck out at huh sistah, people said, lak she was mad.

I has 'tended some revivals dat was lively in my day, An' I 's seed folks git 'uligion in mos' evah kin' o' way; But I tell you, an' you b'lieve me dat I 's speakin' true indeed, Dat gal tuk huh 'ligion ha'dah dan de ha'dest yit I 's seed.

Well, f'om dat, 't was "Sistah Jackson, won't you please do dis er dat?" She mus' allus sta't de singin' w'en dey 'd pass erroun' de hat, An' hit seemed dey was n't nuffin' in dat chu'ch dat could go by 'Dout sistah Lucy Jackson had a finger in de pie.

But de sayin' mighty trufeful dat hit easiah to sail W'en de sea is ca'm an' gentle dan to weathah out a gale. Dat 's whut made dis ooman's trouble; ef de sto'm had kep' away, She 'd 'a' had enough 'uligion fu' to lasted out huh day.

Lucy went wid 'Lishy Davis, but w'en she jined chu'ch, you know Dah was lots o' little places dat, of cose, she could n't go; An' she had to gin up dancin' an' huh singin' an' huh play.-- Now hit's nachul dat sich goin's-on 'u'd drive a man away.

So, w'en Lucy got so solemn, Ike he sta'ted fu' to go Wid a gal who was a sinnah an' could mek a bettah show. Lucy jes' went on to meetin' lak she did n't keer a rap, But my 'sperunce kep' me t'inkin dah was somep'n' gwine to drap.

Fu' a gal won't let 'uligion er no othah so't o' t'ing Stop huh w'en she teks a notion dat she wants a weddin' ring. You kin p'omise huh de blessin's of a happy aftah life (An' hit's nice to be a angel), but she 'd ravah be a wife.

So w'en Chrismus come an' mastah gin a frolic on de lawn, Did n't 'sprise me not de littlest seein' Lucy lookin' on. An' I seed a wa'nin' lightnin' go a-flashin' f'om huh eye Jest ez 'Lishy an' his new gal went a-gallivantin' by.

An' dat Tildy, umph! she giggled, an' she gin huh dress a flirt Lak de people she was passin' was ez common ez de dirt; An' de minit she was dancin', w'y dat gal put on mo' aihs Dan a cat a-tekin' kittens up a paih o' windin' staihs.

She could 'fo'd to show huh sma'tness, fu' she could n't he'p but know Dat wid jes' de present dancahs she was ownah of de flo'; But I t'ink she 'd kin' o' cooled down ef she happened on de sly Fu' to noticed dat 'ere lightnin' dat I seed in Lucy's eye.

An' she would n't been so 'stonished w'en de people gin a shout, An' Lucy th'owed huh mantle back an' come a-glidin' out. Some ahms was dah to tek huh an' she fluttahed down de flo' Lak a feddah f'om a bedtick w'en de win' commence to blow.

Soon ez Tildy see de trouble, she jes' tu'n an' toss huh haid, But seem lak she los' huh sperrit, all huh darin'ness was daid. Did n't cut anothah capah nary time de blessid night; But de othah one, hit looked lak could n't git enough delight.

W'en you keeps a colt a-stan'nin' in de stable all along, W'en he do git out hit 's nachul he 'll be pullin' mighty strong. Ef you will tie up yo' feelin's, hyeah 's de bes' advice to tek, Look out fu' an awful loosin' w'en de string dat hol's 'em brek.

Lucy's mammy groaned to see huh, an' huh pappy sto'med an' to', But she kep' right on a-hol'in' to de centah of de flo'. So dey went an' ast de pastoh ef he could n't mek huh quit, But de tellin' of de sto'y th'owed de preachah in a fit.

Tildy Taylor chewed huh hank'cher twell she 'd chewed it in a hole,-- All de sinnahs was rejoicin' 'cause a lamb had lef de fol', An' de las' I seed o' Lucy, she an' 'Lish was side an' side: I don't blame de gal fu' dancin', an' I could n't ef I tried.

Fu' de men dat wants to ma'y ain't a-growin' 'roun' on trees, An' de gal dat wants to git one sholy has to try to please. Hit's a ha'd t'ing fu' a ooman fu 'to pray an' jes' set down, An' to sacafice a husban' so 's to try to gain a crown.

Now, I don' say she was justified in follerin' huh plan; But aldough she los' huh 'ligion, yit she sholy got de man. Latah on, w'en she is suttain dat de preachah 's made 'em fas' She kin jes' go back to chu'ch an' ax fu'giveness fu' de pas'!

LYRICS OF LOVE AND LAUGHTER

TWO LITTLE BOOTS

Two little boots all rough an' wo', Two little boots! Law, I 's kissed 'em times befo', Dese little boots! Seems de toes a-peepin' thoo Dis hyeah hole an' sayin' "Boo!" Evah time dey looks at you-- Dese little boots.

Membah de time he put 'em on, Dese little boots; Riz an' called fu' 'em by dawn, Dese little boots; Den he tromped de livelong day, Laffin' in his happy way, Evaht'ing he had to say, "My little boots!"

Kickin' de san' de whole day long, Dem little boots; Good de cobblah made 'em strong, Dem little boots! Rocks was fu' dat baby's use, I'on had to stan' abuse W'en you tu'ned dese champeens loose, Dese little boots!

Ust to make de ol' cat cry, Dese little boots; Den you walked it mighty high, Proud little boots! Ahms akimbo, stan'in' wide, Eyes a-sayin' "Dis is pride!" Den de manny-baby stride! You little boots.

Somehow, you don' seem so gay, Po' little boots, Sence yo' ownah went erway, Po' little boots! Yo' bright tops don' look so red, Dese brass tips is dull an' dead; "Goo'-by," whut de baby said; Deah little boots!

Ain't you kin' o' sad yo'se'f, You little boots? Dis is all his mammy 's lef', Two little boots. Sence huh baby gone an' died. Heav'n itse'f hit seem to hide Des a little bit inside Two little boots.

TO THE ROAD

Cool is the wind, for the summer is waning, Who 's for the road? Sun-flecked and soft, where the dead leaves are raining, Who 's for the road? Knapsack and alpenstock press hand and shoulder, Prick of the brier and roll of the boulder; This be your lot till the season grow older; Who 's for the road?

Up and away in the hush of the morning, Who 's for the road? Vagabond he, all conventions a-scorning, Who 's for the road? Music of warblers so merrily singing, Draughts from the rill from the roadside up-springing, Nectar of grapes from the vines lowly swinging, These on the road.

Now every house is a hut or a hovel, Come to the road: Mankind and moles in the dark love to grovel, But to the road. Throw off the loads that are bending you double; Love is for life, only labor is trouble; Truce to the town, whose best gift is a bubble: Come to the road!

A SPRING WOOING

Come on walkin' wid me, Lucy; 't ain't no time to mope erroun' Wen de sunshine 's shoutin' glory in de sky, An' de little Johnny-Jump-Ups 's jes' a-springin' f'om de groun', Den a-lookin' roun' to ax each othah w'y. Don' you hyeah dem cows a-mooin'? Dat 's dey howdy to de spring; Ain' dey lookin' most oncommon satisfied? Hit 's enough to mek a body want to spread dey mouf an' sing Jes' to see de critters all so spa'klin'-eyed.

W'y dat squir'l dat jes' run past us, ef I did n' know his tricks, I could swaih he 'd got 'uligion jes' to-day; An' dem liza'ds slippin' back an' fofe ermong de stones an' sticks Is a-wigglin' 'cause dey feel so awful gay. Oh, I see yo' eyes a-shinin' dough you try to mek me b'lieve Dat you ain' so monst'ous happy 'cause you come; But I tell you dis hyeah weathah meks it moughty ha'd to 'ceive Ef a body's soul ain' blin' an' deef an' dumb.

Robin whistlin' ovah yandah ez he buil' his little nes'; Whut you reckon dat he sayin' to his mate? He's a-sayin' dat he love huh in de wo'ds she know de bes', An' she lookin' moughty pleased at whut he state. Now, Miss Lucy, dat ah robin sholy got his sheer o' sense, An' de hen-bird got huh mothah-wit fu' true; So I t'ink ef you 'll ixcuse me, fu' I do' mean no erfence, Dey 's a lesson in dem birds fu' me an' you.

I 's a-buil'in' o' my cabin, an' I 's vines erbove de do' Fu' to kin' o' gin it sheltah f'om de sun; Gwine to have a little kitchen wid a reg'lar wooden flo', An' dey 'll be a back verandy w'en hit 's done. I 's a-waitin' fu' you, Lucy, tek de 'zample o' de birds, Dat 's a-lovin' an' a-matin' evahwhaih. I cain' tell you dat I loves you in de robin's music wo'ds, But my cabin 's talkin' fu' me ovah thaih!

JOGGIN' ERLONG

De da'kest hour, dey allus say, Is des' befo' de dawn, But it's moughty ha'd a-waitin' W'ere de night goes frownin' on; An' it's moughty ha'd a-hopin' W'en de clouds is big an' black, An' all de t'ings you 's waited fu' Has failed, er gone to wrack-- But des' keep on a-joggin' wid a little bit o' song, De mo'n is allus brightah w'en de night's been long.

Dey 's lots o' knocks you 's got to tek Befo' yo' journey 's done, An' dey 's times w'en you 'll be wishin' Dat de weary race was run; W'en you want to give up tryin' An' des' float erpon de wave, W'en you don't feel no mo' sorrer Ez you t'ink erbout de grave-- Den, des' keep on a-joggin' wid a little bit o' song, De mo'n is allus brightah w'en de night's been long.

De whup-lash sting a good deal mo' De back hit 's knowed befo', An' de burden 's allus heavies' Whaih hits weight has made a so'; Dey is times w'en tribulation Seems to git de uppah han' An' to whip de weary trav'lah 'Twell he ain't got stren'th to stan'-- But des' keep on a-joggin' wid a little bit o' song, De mo'n is allus brightah w'en de night's been long.

IN MAY

Oh to have you in May, To talk with you under the trees, Dreaming throughout the day, Drinking the wine-like breeze,

Oh it were sweet to think That May should be ours again, Hoping it not, I shrink, Out of the sight of men.

May brings the flowers to bloom, It brings the green leaves to the tree, And the fatally sweet perfume, Of what you once were to me.

DREAMS

What dreams we have and how they fly Like rosy clouds across the sky; Of wealth, of fame, of sure success, Of love that comes to cheer and bless; And how they wither, how they fade, The waning wealth, the jilting jade-- The fame that for a moment gleams, Then flies forever,--dreams, ah--dreams!