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But why does every one leave the cotton crop to the negro. It isn't a hard crop to raise, is it?" "Thar's no one else c'n do it but the negro, sah," the preacher answered. "It's the hardes' kin' of work, an' it has to be done in summer, an' thar's no shade in a cotton fiel'. Right from the sowin' until the las' boll is picked, cotton needs tendin', an' yo' don' have much cool weather down hyar."
"At da wake we clapped our han's an' kep' time wid our feet Walking Egypt, dey calls hit an' we chant an' hum all night 'till de nigger was funeralized. "Fire was 'bout de hardes' thing fer us to keep. Dere wa'nt no matches in dem days, an' we toted fire frum one plantation to 'nother when hit burned out. We put live coals in pans or buckets an' toted it home.
After awhile I married a gal what was real smart 'bout farmin' an' chicken raisin'. So us share-cropped an' raised a fam'ly. Somehow us always scrapped along. Sometimes it was by de hardes', but us always had plenty t'eat. "All de cullud folks what lived to git back home took to de lan' ag'in. If dey marster was dead dey went to his frien's an' offered to share-crop. Dey was all plumb sick o' war.
"Dat's hardes' trip ever I mak'. You hear 'bout 'im, eh? 'bout how McCaskey tell de truth?" Rouletta nodded, with a curious little smile upon her lips. "Yes. I heard all about it, the first thing how Rock ran down those fellows everything. The town was ringing with his name inside of an hour. Of course, I went to the Barracks, finally, looking for you. I'm just back.
De marster was de Honorable Mister Gabriel Shields hisse'f. Ever'body knowed 'bout him. He married a Surget. "Dem Surgets was pretty devilish; for all dey was de riches' fam'ly in de lan'. Dey was de out-fightin'es', out-cussin'es', fastes' ridin', hardes' drinkin', out-spendin'es' folks I ever seen. But Lawd! Lawd! Dey was gent'men even in dey cups.
"Atter Nancy Jane O got erhead er de birds, den de hardes' flyin' wuz thu wid; so she jes went 'long, an' went 'long, kin' er easy like, tell she got ter de stone; an' she lit on er' simmon-bush close ter de crick, an' Pigunawaya he slipt off, he did, an' he hist up his feet, an' he gin er jump, kerchug he went down inter de water; an' by'mby hyear he come wid de stone in his mouf.
Us liked Marse Jeff Davis de bes' on de place. Us even made up a song 'bout him, but, I 'clare 'fore goodness, I can't even 'member de firs' line o' dat song. You see, when I got 'ligion, I asked de Lawd to take all de other songs out o' my head an' make room for his word. "Since den it's de hardes' thing in de worl' for me to 'member de songs us used to dance by.
The Latin of Vincentius Beluacensis appears to have been translated from the French original of Carpini, from the following circumstance: What is here translated their other baggage is, in the Latin, alias res duriores; almost with certainty mistakenly rendered from the French leurs autres hardes. How the Tartars ought to be resisted.
Leigh. "But tell me, Belle, what made you leave the Graingers? I thought you were a fixture there." "Yes'm, I reckon I'd be living there yit, if 'twarn't fur ole Marse Andrew. He done sassed me too much, Miss Sally. Aunt Judy she say, 'Better stay whar de pot biles hardes', Belle, but I couldn't stan' ole Marse Andrew." "I had forgotten about Aunt Judy. Is she still living?" asked Mrs. Leigh.
Braile relented so far as to ask, "Who was at the bellows?" The other answered with a certain inward deprecation of the grin that spread over his face, and the responsive levity of his phrase, "There was a change of hands, but the one that kep' the fire goun' the hardes' and the hottes' was Elder Grove." Braile made "Hoonck!" in the scornful guttural which no English spelling can represent.
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