Dat's my answer!"
"You don't know what you all talkin' bout! Send 'nough rain ter help de
gyarden, an' not 'nough to hurt de oats! You reckon Mr. Ed'ards let er
nigger stay on dis place an' pray fer rain when he cuttin' oats? You
reckon er nigger goin' ter come hyah an' run er market-gyarden wid 'im
on sheers, an' him er prayin' fer dry wedder when cabbage oughter be
headin' up? No, sah! You c'n pray fer grace, an' when you gits grace
you're all right, rain er no rain; but you better not resk yo'se'f on
rain. Folks got ter have somebody ter settle when hit shall rain, an'
when hit sha'n't rain. Faith ain' got nothin' ter do 'ith hit. It takes
horse sense. Why, ef de Lord was ter tie er rope to de flood-gates, an'
let hit down hyah ter be pulled when dey need rain, somebody'd git
killed ev'y time dey pulled hit. Folks wid oats ter cut 'u'd lie out wid
dey guns an' gyard dat rope, an' folks wid cabbages 'd be sneakin' up in
de dyark tryin' ter git hold er hit. Fus' thing you know, er cem'tery
grow up roun' dyah an' nobody lef' ter pull de rope!"
"Faith 'u'd fetch it.
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