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"I've kep' singin' school one term, besides leadin' the Methodis' choir in Slocumville: so I orto know a little somethin' about it." "Perhaps you play, and if so, we'd like to hear you," continued John Jr., in spite of the deprecating glance cast upon him by Carrie. "Not such a dreadful sight," answered Joel, sauntering toward the piano and drumming a part of "Auld Lang Syne."
She came straight to the kitchen and sat down on the door-step, looking worried and preoccupied. "How comes it you ain't singin'?" asked Mrs. Wiggs. "If I had a voice like yourn, folks would have to stop up their years with cotton. I jes find myself watchin' fer you to come home, so's I can hear you singin' them pretty duets round the house."
"Well, it's a quare thing you should be singin' a song here," said Larry Hogan, "about Jim Barlow, and it's not over half a mile out of this very place he was hanged." "Indeed!" exclaimed all the men at once, looking with great interest at Larry. "It's truth I'm telling you. He made a very bowld robbery up by the long hill there, on two gintlemen, for he was mighty stout."
"Aw, it's the beautiful singer she is," as the girl struck up a new song. "Listen to that now." Full, clear, soft, like the warbling of the thrush at evening, came the voice through the closed door. The man and his wife stood listening with a rapt look on their faces. "Phat in Hivin's name is she singin', at all?" said Mrs. Carroll. "Whisht!" said her husband, holding up his hand.
On this particular day he was joined by his crew, whose voices more or less tuneful came rolling over the water in a great volume of melody. "He's got Singin' Peter a-visitin' him," said Billy. "Don't you hear him?" "Ay, I hear him, boy. There's no mistakin' Singin' Peter's voice. I'd know it among a thousand."
We was driftin' along into Frankfort as peaceful as you please, an' a singin' with joy 'cause our work was about over. I hears a splash an' says I to Ike, 'What's that? Says he to me, 'I dunno. Says I to Ike ag'in, 'Was it a big fish? Says he to me ag'in, 'I dunno. He's gittin' a repytation for bein' real smart 'cause he's always sayin, 'I dunno, an' he's never wrong.
Miss Milly's all time stoppin' an' tellin' me how proud she air ter have you here under her roof an' how glad she air ter have sech a zample as you fer her gals ter foller in the footsteps er 'portment an' 'havior. An' Marse Bob air continuously singin' yo' praises. I hearn him tellin' Mr. Philip Throckmorton las' night that you were a gues' it wa' his delight ter honor. An' Mr.
Also she was singin' "When the Clouds Are Darkest," rubbin' out an accompaniment on the wash board and splashin' the suds around reckless, her big red face shinin' through the steam like the sun breakin' through a mornin' fog. Some sizable old girl, Ma Gummidge; one of these bulgy, billowy females with two chins and a lot of brownish hair.
They're sort o' upholdin' the legislature's act, providing for the protection o' game an' singin' birds; an' maybe it 'ud be well for you to notice 'at I'm not so old but I'm able to stand up for my right to any livin' man."
As long as ye keep de Lord an' de singin' away from dis yer big forsaken church, you may keep dat hat to measure in eberybody's lan'. So nobody kin sing or pray in dat church. Nobody but Meshach Milburn ever prays dar. He goes dar sometimes wid his Chrismas-giff on he head, an' prays to de debbil."
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