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half asleep in his shade-dappled dooryard; and you sent
your best wishes after a sunburnt youngster on a single–
footin' boss racking down a sandy road for to see his
true love.
Oh, vanished lady! Oh, darky music! Oh, my Old Ken–
tucky Home!
IT
took my uncle a full twenty minutes of measuring
and blending and stirring and decorating, to fabricate your
julep for you. And by that time your tongue hung down
on your chest like a pink plush necktie, and your mouth
; atered until no longer could you control your own ripa–
rian rights, and if, instead of being about the most glamor–
ous mi;:cture that ever was mixed, that which, with a courtly
bow from the hips he now bestowed upon you, had been
an infusion of poison-ivy juice and old rubber galoshes,
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