Yes, sir!

"When she stan's in that darn ol' Sunday gown
Ye'd think a grasshopper could knock 'er down.
An' she laughs kind o' sick--like a kitten's mew--
Ye wouldn't think 'twas my sister Sue,
No, sir!

"An' she says: 'Oh, dear! those horrid boys!
They act so rough an' make sech a noise!'
Good gracious! ye wouldn't think 'at she
Could talk as loud as a bumble bee--
No, sirs

"Honest! Er lift a chip o' wood,
She acts so puny an' nice an' good!
'Boys are awful!' she says, 'till they're grown,
Er nelse they got to be yer own!'
Oh, gosh!"

This raised a storm of merriment, after which he recited the poem of
Burns, with keen appreciation of its quality. Samson repeatedly writes of
his gift for interpretation, especially of the comic, and now and then
lays particular stress on his power of mimicry.

John Cameron sang _The Sword of Bunker Hill_ and _Forty Years Ago, Tom_.
Samson played while the older people danced until midnight. Then, after
noisy farewells, men, women and children started in the moonlit road
toward the village. Ann Rutledge had Abe on one arm and John McNeil on
the other.