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"Don't be feard, Aunt Hagar," said the oldest of the men, "I spoke to Mas'r Thomas 'bout it, and he thought he might manage to sell you in a lot both together." "Dey needn't call me worn out yet," said she, lifting her shaking hands. "I can cook yet, and scrub, and scour, I'm wuth a buying, if I do come cheap; tell em dat ar, you tell em," she added, earnestly.
It air goin' on ter fifty years sence I had a sho' 'nuf holiday, bein' as I ain't never been ter say free ter leave you when we've been a visitin' roun', kase I been always kinder feard you mought need ol' Billy whilst you wa'n't ter say 'zactly at home, but somehows now you seem ter kinder b'long here with Miss Judy an' her maw an' my feets air been eatchin' so much lately th'ain't nothin' fer me ter do but follow the signs an' go on a trip."
I feard ter take 'im home, sezee. "Brer Rabbit ain't sayin' nuthin'. Brer Fox, he sorter lick his chops, but he went on en lef' Brer Rabbit layin' in de road. Dreckly he wuz outer sight, Brer Rabbit, he jump up, he did, en run roun' thoo de Woods en git befo Brer Fox agin. Brer Fox, he come up, en dar lay Brer Rabbit, periently col' en stiff. Brer Fox, he look at Brer Rabbit, en he sorter study.
I'se gib 'im a good report on you ef I kin. I'se feard, howsomeber, dat he say you outgrowed yo' sense." "Dar now, Chunk, you puttin' on mo' airs dan Marse Scoville hissef. He des ez perlite ter marster en ole miss ez ef he come ter pay his 'spects ter dem en he look at Miss Lou ez a cat do at cream." "Hi! dat so? No won'er he want ter git ahaid ob de parson en dat weddin' business."
"How did you expect them to hurt me, Uncle Billy?" asked Edgar, laughing. "I was 'feard dey mought make a Injun, or sum'in' out'n you." "G'long, Billy," put in his wife, with increased contempt, "Marse Eddie ain' been socifyin' wid no Injuns he been socifyin' wid kings an' queens' settin' on dey thrones, wid crowns on dey haids an' spectres in dey han's!
"I set while Aunty's washin' on my little long-leg stool, An' watch the little boys an' girls a-skippin' by to school; An' I peck on the winder, an' holler out an' say: 'Who wants to fight The Little Man at dares you all to-day? An' nen the boys climbs on the fence, an' little girls peeks through, An' they all says: 'Cause you're so big, you think we're 'feard o' you! An' nen they yell, an' shake their fist at me, like I shake mine They're thist in fun, you know, 'cause I got 'Curv'ture of the Spine'!"
Be like habbin' poor Mas'r Noll's face afore him de whole time, an' ef he ken stan' dat, athought lubbin' him, I's 'feard he's dun got colder'n a stone, de whole ob him. You jes' wait an' see, Hagar!" Noll followed his uncle from the breakfast-table into the library, hoping that he would at once say something about his books or studies, or at least hint what plans he had made concerning himself.
The reasons of these difficulties in taking of the Turks Kingdom from him, are, because the Invader cannot be called in by the Princes of that Kingdom, nor hope by the rebellion of those which he hath about him, to be able to facilitate his enterprize: which proceeds from the reasons aforesaid; for they being all his slaves, and oblig'd to him, can more hardly be corrupted; and put case they were corrupted, little profit could he get by it, they not being able to draw after them any people, for the reasons we have shewed: whereupon he that assails the Turk, must think to find him united; and must rather relie upon his own forces, than in the others disorders: but when once he is overcome and broken in the field, so that he cannot repair his armies, there is nothing else to be doubted than the Royal blood, which being once quite out, there is none else left to be feard, none of the others having any credit with the people.
“Warn’t trimblin’ no mo’ ’en I’se trimblin’ dis minute, an’ you drap dat ‘Mista.’ Den w’at you reckon? Yonda come Père Antoine; he come an’ stan’ in de doo’ an’ he hole up he han’; look like he ain’t ’feard no body an’ he ’low: ‘Grégor Sanchun, how is you dar’ come in dis heah peaceful town frowin’ of it into disorda an’ confusion? Ef you isn’t ’feard o’ man; hasn’t you got no fear o’ God A’mighty wat punishes?’
I hope not; Yet what so confident Sailour that heares the Sea rore, The winds sing lowd and dreadfull, the day darkend, But he will cry 'a storme'! downe with his Canvas And hull, expecting of that horrid feavour? Enter Son. How now? What newes? Son. Plucke up your hart, Sir, fairely And wither not away thus poorely from us; Be now secure: the myst ye feard is vanishd, Leidenberch's dead. Bar.
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