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LOST ARGUMENT. The Parson stood a-talking With old Peyton at the fence, A-seeking to imbue him With a Christian penitence, And his words were full of wisdom Such as suited simple parts. 'Twas the true and simple story That is food for simple hearts; And he said: "Look here, Sam Peyton, It is time for you to make A turn for sweet salvation For your soul and family's sake. Get your heart upon the Bible, Wash your sins in Christian grace." Peyton wriggled and said: "Dag me 'F I got time to wash my face." "Look here, Peyton," said the Parson, "Don't you want to own a chair In the parlor of the mansion Of the Blessed Over There, Where the angels all are singing- Don't you want to own a nook In that realm of peace anl plenty That we read of in The Book" Sam Peyton slowly whimpered out: " I'll tell you, Parson Bill, The only thing I want to own's A shotgun an' a still." "But, Peyton," said the Parson, "Did you ever stop to think That some days of your lifetime You are pressing on the brink Suppose that rock above your house Some night would break its holt; To think-down in perdition You'd be shifter by the jolt!" But Peyton whittled on the rail And said: "You needn't fret, I've seen that rock hang fifty years An' 'taint fell yet."