come into our hands in 1803, that immense tract of land, settlin'
forever in our favor the war for supremacy on this continent between
ourselves and England, and givin' us the broad highway of the
Mississippi to sail to and fro on which had been denied us, besides the
enormous future increase in our wealth and population.

I knowed that between 1700 and 1800 this tract wuz tossted back and
forth between France and Spain and England some as if it wuz a immense
atlas containing pictured earth and sea instead of the real land and
water.

It passed backwards and forwards through the century till 1803 when it
bein' at the time in the hands of France, we bought it of Napoleon
Bonaparte who had got possession of it a few years before, and Heaven
only knows what ambitious dreams of foundin' a new empire in a new
France filled that powerful brain, under that queer three-cornered hat
of hisen when he got it of Spain.

But 'tennyrate he sold it in 1803 to our country, the writin's bein'
drawed up by Thomas Jefferson, namesake of our own Thomas Jefferson,
Josiah's child by his first wife. Napoleon, or I spoze it would sound
more respectful to call him Mr. Bonaparte, he wanted money bad, and he
didn't want England to git ahead, and so he sold it to us.

He acted some as Miss Bobbett did when she sot up her niece, Mahala Hen,
in dressmakin' for fear Miss Henzy's girl would git all the custom and
git rich. She'd had words with Miss Henzy and wanted to bring down her
pride. And we bein' some like Miss Hen in sperit (she had had trouble
with Miss Henzy herself, and wuz dretful glad to have Mahala sot up), we
wuz more'n willin' to buy it of Mr. Bonaparte. You know he didn't like