"Why, he means dumb-bells and Indian clubs and trapezes and such things, to give exercise to the boys, father."
"Wull, I'll be dumb-belled ef I had him out yander in the cottonfield a-choppin' out the crab-grass, I guess he'd git all the exercise he wanted!" snorted Farmer Jim.
"Away With the Sorrow."
Away with the sorrow,
The troubles and tears!
We'll laugh with the morrow
Through all of the years.
Away with the errors
That scourge as a rod!
Our sins and our terrors
Shall vanish with God.
The sob of our sadness
Shall cease bye and bye;
Away to the gladness,—
We're bound for the sky.