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Worse'n you've been forgived at fust hand by the Lard when He travelled on flesh-an'-blood feet 'mong men; an' folks have short memories for dates, an' them as sniggers now will be dust or dotards 'fore Tim's grawed. When you've been a lawful wife ten year an' more, who's gwaine to mind this? Not little Tim's fellow bwoys an' gals, anyway.
I'll never lift my voice in hymn nor psalm no more, nor pray a line o' prayer again. Who be I to be treated like that? Drunken auld cat! I cussed her I cussed her! Wouldn't marry her now if she axed wi' her mouth in the dirt. Wheer's justice to? Tell me that. Me in church, keepin' order 'mong the damn boys generation arter generation, and him never inside the door since he buried his wife.
Ole Miss 'uz his ma, en Miss Sally dar 'uz his sister. De war come des like I tell you, en marters sorter rock along same like dey allers did. Hit didn't strike me dat dey wuz enny war gwine on, en ef I hadn't sorter miss de nabers, en seed fokes gwine outer de way fer ter ax de news, I'd a 'lowed ter myse'f dat de war wuz 'way off 'mong some yuther country.
Solon was doubtful, because of Bim's color and the length of his tail. "I hain't nebber see no fust-class 'coon dawg wha' warn't yallar an' stumpy tail lak my Bijah war," he would remark, gazing reflectively at Bim, and shaking his head. "Of cose dish yer Bim dawg uncommon knowin', an' maybe him tree a 'coon 'mos' ez good ez Bijah; but hit's a gif, an' a mighty skurce gif 'mong dawgs."
Mong knew that the Meander stage would leave for Comanche at eight in the morning, or two hours before the drawing began. It was the only means, exclusive of the telephone, by which news could travel that day between the two places, and as it could carry no news of the drawing his scheme was secure.
He writes about Pan and the nymphs, but we do not feel that they were shapes of earth and air to him, as they were to Shelley; rather they seem like figures copied out of his friends' pictures. Consider, for example, the picture of a nymph who appeared to Endymion: It was a nymph uprising to the breast In the fountain's pebbly margin, and she stood 'Mong lilies, like the youngest of her brood.
"Well, hows'ever that may be, there he was alongside o' the driver. But what staggers of me is, that there wa'n't no Lord Vincent nowhere to be seen! He was 'mong the missin'. And that was the rummest go as ever was. A new bride a-comin' home to her 'pa without no bridegroom. And so I jest axed Mr. Frisbie, Esquire, and he telled me how his lordship missed the trail. What trail!
My pa give the white man $5.00 to pay fer the train. Tom Watson was one of 'em too. He was a sorter leader 'mong 'em wantin' to go back. Well when the day come that the train due to start everybody come to the depot whar the train going to stop. There was a big crowd. Yes mam, dressed up, and a little provisions and clothes fixed up. Jes' could take along a little. They say it would be crowded so.
Margret listened, waked reluctantly to the sense of a different pain in the world from her own, lower deeps from which women like herself draw delicately back, lifting their gauzy dresses. "Miss Marg'et!" Her face flashed. "Well, Lois?" "Th' Master has His people 'mong them very lowest, that's not for such as yoh to speak to.
Lots o' toughs then, 'specially 'mong the flatboat-men, who'd nothin' to drink but new sod-cornwhisky, that'd fight in every spoonful. But for sure, straight-out tumultuousness that guard-house last night gave six pecks for every bushel of a Wabash shivaree." Shorty looked meaningly at Si. "Guard-house fellers's likely to be a ructionary lot o' roosters. Awful sorry you got in among 'em.
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