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NIGGER mighty happy w'en he layin' by co'n Dat sun's a slantin'; Nigger mighty happy w'en he year de dinner-ho'n Dat sun's a slantin'; En he mo' happy still w'en de night draws on Dat sun's a slantin'; Dat sun's a slantin' des ez sho's you bo'n! En it's rise up, Primus! fetch anudder yell: Dat ole dun cow's des a shakin' up 'er bell, En de frogs chunin' up 'fo' de jew done fell: Good-night, Mr.

I'll des put yo' calamus root out yer on dish yer stump. Better come git it while hit's fresh, and wid dat Brer Rabbit gallop off home. En Brer Fox ain't never kotch 'im yit, en w'at's mo', honey, he ain't gwineter." "Didn't the fox never catch the rabbit, Uncle Remus?" asked the little boy the next evening. "He come mighty nigh it, honey, sho's you born Brer Fox did.

So Alston emptied out the cotton he had worked so hard to gather, listening moodily to the overseer's harsh threats: "Yer reckon I's goin' to stan' sich figgers? Sixty-seven poun's! fou' poun's 'head uv yistiddy. Yer ought ter be fawty ahead. I won't look at nothin' under a hunderd. Ef yer don't get it ter-morrer I'll tie yer up, sho's yer bawn, yer great merlatto dog!

Co'se eve'ybody laks a drap now an' den, but it 'peared ter 'fec' Ben mo'd'n it did yuther folks. He didn' hab much chance dat-a-way, but eve'y now an' den he'd git holt er sump'n' somewahr, an' sho's he did, he'd git out'n de narrer road. Mars Marrabo kep' on wa'nin' 'm 'bout it, an' fin'lly he tol' 'im ef he eber ketch 'im in dat shape ag'in he 'uz gwineter gib 'im fo'ty.

"An' ef I had a scoldin' wife I'd whip her sho's yer born, I'd take her down to New Orleans An' trade her off fer corn " Julius stopped with a sudden snap and whispered to John: "Lordy, sah, I clean fergit 'bout dat meetin' at de cullud folks' church, sah, dat dey start up. I promise de preacher ter fetch you, sah An' ef we gwine ter march ter-morrow, dis here's de las' night sho "

His uncle, who had been freed five years before, had written him a glowing letter about Liberia. He dreaded the subject. "You know, of course, Sam," the Colonel began, "that your life is now in your own hands and that I can only advise you as a friend." "An' I sho's glad ter have ye he'p me, Marse Robert." "I'm going to give you the best advice I can.

Dey sho's been some fightin' in dis here wilderness. Hopes ter God we git outen here pretty quick. Gitten too close tergedder ter suit me." The clatter of a horse's hoofs rang out in the little clearing in front of the tent. Taylor looked up again. "See if that's Stuart. General Lee's expecting him." Sam peered out the door of the tent.

"Ya'as, Miss Zoe," he answered, with a broad grin of satisfaction; "dat's what I'se been a workin' for, an' spects to hab sho', kase Miss Elsie, she doan' nebber grudge nuffin' in de way ob praise nor ob wages, when yo's done yo' bes', ob co'se; an' dis chile done do dat, sho's yo' bawn."

Without a moment's reflection, Marshall, seizing at random upon the first word that presented itself, said, "How about ratiocination?" The old man started as if he were shot. "Dat's hit!" he exclaimed. "Yassir, dat's hit! How in de kingdom come is you struck it de fust pop? Rasheoshinatiom! I 'clare! Dat's de ve'y word, sho's you born!

Ef you'll loand 'em to me an' help me on wid 'em terreckly when I'm dressed, I'll be a whole live butterfly, an' I bet yer when I flutters into dat choir, Freckled Frances'll feel like snatchin' dat lamp shade off her hat, sho's you born! An' fur once-t I'm proud I'm so black complected, caze black an' yaller, dey goes together fur butterflies!