“You’re a man of sin!” sed the Elder.
Arter breakfust my little Shaker frends cum in agin to clear away the dishes.
“My pretty dears,” sez I, “shall we yay agin?”
“Nay,” they sed, and I nay’d.
The Shakers axed me to go to their meetin, as they was to hav sarvices that mornin, so I put on a clean biled rag and went. The meetin house was as neat as a pin. The floor was white as chalk and smooth as glass. The Shakers was all on hand, in clean weskits and meal bags, ranged on the floor like milingtery companies, the mails on one side of the room, and the females on tother. They commenst clappin their hands and singin and dancin. They danced kinder slow at fust, but as they got warmed up they shaved it down very brisk, I tell you. Elder Uriah, in particler, exhiberted a right smart chance of spryness in his legs, considerin his time of life, and as he cum a double shuffle near where I sot, I rewarded him with a approvin smile and said, “Hunky boy! Go it, my gay and festiv cuss.”
“You’re a man of sin!” he said, continnering his shuffle.
The Sperret, as they called it, then moved a short fat Shaker to say a few remarks. He sed they was Shakers, and all was ekal. They was the purest and seleckest peple on the yearth. Other peple was sinful as they could be, but Shakers was all right. Shakers was all goin kerslap to the Promist Land, and nobody want goin to stand at the gate to bar ’em out, if they did they’d git run over.
The Shakers then danced and sung agin, and arter they was threw, one of ’em axed me what I thawt of it.
Sez I, “What does it siggerfy?”
“What?” sez he.