Letter To Uncle Zeke
Dear Uncle Zeke,
Sattidy week I was talkin to Horace Sludge-bottom (he's the preacher over to the Sandy Bottom church of Christ) about the sad condition of the saints in this generation. (Actually, I did most of the jawin) In particular we was talkin about the worldliness and lack of morality that seems to mark so many Christians. Funny thing, old Horace felt that there weren't nothin to worry about a-tall. He said that many of the brethren were just gettin some sophistication in em and that he thought that would be best for ever one all around. I let him in on the fact that I didn't know what sophistication meant so he agreed to give me a lesson on the subject. That was right neighborly of him I thought.
Last night he had me to get all spruced up so's he could take me to Mount Idy to attend a new sophisticated stage play that had come to town. Well, uncle Zeke, I did it up right. Seein as how Horace suggested that I was too old fashioned and countryfied, I went down to the general store and bought me a new double-breasted suit that cost all of leven dollars. (It weren't exactly new, it had been wore by one other person.) Why, I even polished my shoes for the occasion. Then he picked me up and off down the road we went.
Uncle Zeke, that thing hadn't any more than got started when I seen that it weren't fit for even a beast, much less a child of God. Why, one woman, I ain't about to say no lady, come out on that stage wearing little more than a new-born baby. It was at that point that I upped and walked out leavin brother Sludgebottom to his so-phistication. If you all were to ask me that word so-phistication ought to be spelled, "sin-phistication." I'm more than a lettle persuaded that they is a heap of sin in such goings on. And that, uncle Zeke, is the trouble with the church. We have too many sin-phisticated people a runnin things.
Oh well, so much for now. You write, hear? Yours truly