“Wal, dat ain’t zactly right, but it’s got mo’ sense in it dan anything dat’s been sed, an’ I’ll give you ten, as you seem to have sum hoss sense in yore make-up.”
Fortunately I was where I could lean back behind the blackboard and save the dignity of the examination. For all this had been said with a dignity and earnestness that was appalling, and not the slightest trace of humor appeared in their voices.
“How am Tennessee bounded?” he asked Pompey.
“She’s bounded by straight lines makin’ a parallellogram inclinin’ in a right angle,” said Pompey, knowingly.
The old man scratched his jaw and passed it to the Preacher. The answer came back glibly:
“Tennessee am bounded on de north by Kaintucky an’ de rory-bory Alice, on de east by de Great Smoky mountains, on the west by Mt. Pelee an’ on de south—”
The old man brought his fist down indignantly. “Ef we’re bounded on all dem sides by de things you say dar ain’t but one thing dat can nachully bind us on de south an’ dat am hell! You may know a whole lot about dat place but you don’t kno’ a little bit about jog’erfy. Lemme see whut you all kno’ ’bout hist’ry.”
He slowly studied out the next question:
“Relate de causes leadin’ to de Riverlushunary war.”
“De circumnavigatin’ cause ob de Riverlushunary war,” said Pompey glibly, “was de extenshun ob de Equater too far into de Gulf stream, endangerin’ de tail ob de British Umpire.”