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Little Rosie.
Rosie, my posy,
You’re weary, you're dozy;
Sit upon grandmamma's knee.
Songs will I sing you,
Sweet sleep to bring you;
Cuddle up cozy with me.
I will sing ditties
Os birds and of kitties —
The “ Song of the Well,” to begin :
How young Johnnie Stout
Pulled pussy-cat out
When Johnnie Green let her fall in ;
Os timid Miss Mufiit,
Who fled from the tuffit,
Os Bobby, who sailed on the sea;
Os Jack and his Gill;
Os the mouse at the mill,
And baby that rocked on the tree.
Rosie, my Rosie,
As sweet as a posy—
Ah ! now she is coming, I see,
Sleepy and dozy,
To cuddle up cozy,
And hush-a-by-baby with me,
The Nursery.
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
MAROONER’S ISLAND ;
OR,
Dr. Gordon in Search of His Children.
BY REY. P. R. GOULDING,
Author of “ The Young Marooners.”
CHAPTER VI. — Concluded.
RITE lively conversation
with which the voyage
of that morning had been
commenced, and which
Dr. Gordon and Tomkins
permitted but encouraged,
is of policy, began to flag
irse of an hour ; and Dr.
yho was ever on the alert
for opportunities to make the time of the
men pass pleasantly and usefully, pro
posed that they should relieve the tedium
of the voyage, and at the same time in
crease their mutual acquaintance, by each
giving to the company so much of his
private history as he felt perfectly will
ing to do.
“We always feel a deeper interest in
those we know, than in those we do not
know,” said he. “ Indeed, an intimate
knowledge makes us feel sometimes al
most akin.”
In making this remark he observed an
expression of pleasure and at the same
time of uneasiness overspread the coun
tenances of most of his auditors, and di
vining the reason, he continued—
“ln the history of all persons there are
portions which they prefer to keep to
themselves. But there is much besides of
common interest, especially that which
contains useful information, showing how
to help one’s self or to help others in a
time of need. No doubt every one pres
ent sees much in his own life which inte
rests himself; and he may set down as a
BURKE’S WEEKLY.
Lrood general rule that whatever interests
himself will interest others also.”
This piece of philosophy brought a
smile to the faces of most of the men.—
They evidently assented to its truth, and
no doubt they reflected that, coming to
gether as they did from such distant re
gions of the world, and having had such
different experiences in life, there would
bo some rare scenes presented in the ac
counts to be given.
“I do not, by any means, insist upon
it,” he continued. “I only propose it.
Suppose, now, that as we quietly sail,
you all talk over the matter among your
selves, and let me know the result when
you are ready.
“I am ready with my say, now,” said
the sombre-hued Simpson.
“And what is that?” inquired the Doc
tor.
“That I never had any cddication,” he
replied. “And though I am willing to
tell of what I have seen and hcern, I have
never seen or lieern anything that I think
anybody would care to hear about.”
“I think you speak of yourself more
disparagingly than you have a right to
do,” said Dr. Gordon. “Will you allow
me to ask you a question or two ?”
“Yes, sir, to be sure,” was the answer.
“ Well, where were you born and raised?”
“I was horned on Kiokee creek, in Col
umby county, Georgy,” Simpson answer
ed, “and I lived when a boy at Wolfskin,
not far from the Cherokee Corner; but
as for raisin’ I wasn’t raised anywhar; I
jest growed up so.”
“And who were your parents?” Dr.
Gordon inquired.
“My father was a preacher,” Simpson
responded. “And as for my mother, al
though she was an oncommon fine lookin’
ooman, nobody ever knowed her name,
for she was stole from home when she
was a baby, and she lived among the
Injins till she was about sixteen year old,
when my father found her thar and mar
ried her.”
“Really, I feel interested in your story,
already,” said Dr. Gordon. “But allow
me to ask a question or two more. You
say your father was a preacher; of what
denomination was he ?”
At this question Simpson stared, not
being able to understand what the word
“denomination” meant. So his questioner
enlightened him by asking “What was
his church ?” to which Simpson replied,
“Oh !he was a Baptist—an Old-Side—
a Primity—(Primitive)—a Hard Shell—
a Two-Seed."
The listeners could scarcely avoid a
smile, for although the very large and re
spectable denomination designated by the
general title was of course known to all
it was evident that the load of titles just
given was intended to point out and dm
nify some very small concern. Tomkins
looked for an explanation to Dr. Gordon
who replied in a subdued voice, saying
“The Hard-shells, as they are called in
burlesque, or the Old Sides, or Primitives,
as they call themselves, are that part of
the great Baptist family celebrated in
Georgia for their opposition to Sunday,
schools, missions to the heathen, Theo
logical Seminaries, and religious educa
tion generally, for which sake they refuse
fellowship with the modernized and more
active brethren of the church at large.—
They occupy a very large part of our
pincy woods, and other dark corners of
the State. The Two-Seed Baptists, of
whom I believe there are few—at least 1
have never met more than two or three
of them—are the extreme wing of this
party, and are remarkable for nothing
except for certain bigoted notions, the
result of ignorance, concerning the “tm
seeds" between which they suppose the
whole family of mankind to be divided—
the good seed and the bad.”*
With this explanation, Tomkins looked
towards Simpson with a compassion which
he could not otherwise have felt, for he
perceived that many of the poor fellow’s
faults must have been, to a great extent,
the result of the influences under which
his early days had been spent. This was
soon made manifest by the question next
addressed to him.
“You remarked at the outset that you
had no education,” said Dr. Gordon, “ho
you mean to say by this that you never
went to school at all, and that your pa
rents did nothing to instruct you ?”
“Well, now, you see,” he replied, “the
only cddication my mother had for her
self Avas what she got in an Injin’s lodge,
and as for my father, I believe he only
knowed enough to spell out his text in
the bible when he went to preach, and to
line out the hymes for singing. The only
school in my neighborhood, when I was
a boy, was kept by an Englishman named
Gunter. He teached about half of one
winter, and I went to him and larnt line
ly, he said, as far as b-a-g, bag, c-a-g, cag.
But he drunk pretty hard, and did more
whipping than teaching, and so we all
quit his school. 1 remember that, of cold
days, when our fire-wood was scare, lie
used to make us join hands in a ring and
run around, and he would follow us up
with a switch, and laugh and holla, and
hurry us around with the awfullest sort
*Bet it be remembered that the above dark picture
dates from the year 1831 —backward.