"Iv'e heern all the dead war to be resurrected. Didn't ye say ye war one on 'em? Ye aint dead yet," said the woman, chuckling at having cornered me.
"But I'm more than half dead just now."
"Ah," replied the woman, still laughing, "yer a chicken."
"A chicken! what's that?"
"A thing that goes on tu legs, and karkles," was the ready reply.
"Ah, my dear madam, you can out-talk me."
"Yas, I reckon I kin outrun ye, tu. Ye arnt over rugged." Then, after a pause, she added—"What d'ye 'lect that darky, Linkum, President for?"
"I didn't elect him. I voted for Douglas. But Lincoln is not a darky."
"He's a mullater, then; I've heern he war," she replied.
"No, he's not a mulatto; he's a rail-splitter."