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Bimeby a little pain showed 'is head an' sorter m'andered roun' like he wuz a lookin' fer a good place fer ter ketch holt, an' den a great big pain jump up an' take atter de little one an' chase 'im 'roun' an' 'roun, an' he mus' er kotch 'im, kaze bimeby de big pain retch down an' grab dis yer lef' leg so an' haul 'im up, an' den he retch down an grab de udder one an' pull him up, an' den de wah begun, sho nuff.

"That's a fact. I was the one that was a talkin' about a sheep. I know'd it was one of us, but I sorter forgot which one." "Didn't he say that you made a good deal o' licker when the sun wan't shinin'? Didn't he?" "Margaret, ef you keep on, I'll be fo'ced to believe you have been listenin'; an' I'd hate to think that.

I don't suppose I've ever been down in time in my life, unless by a mistake," returned Cornelia, cheerfully. "I like to stay in bed and let the day get sorter warmed up and comfortable, before I begin. What makes you want to get up so early, anyway? I should have thought nine would have been heaps early enough, when you have nothing to do." It was not a promising beginning to the day.

But, bless yo' soul, honey, Brer Fox ain't sa'nter fur, 'fo' Jack Sparrer flipp down on a 'simmon-bush by de side er de road, en holler out: "'Brer Fox! Oh, Brer Fox! Brer Fox! "Brer Fox he des sorter canter long, he did, en make like he don't hear 'im. Den Jack Sparrer up'n sing out agin: "'Brer Fox! Oh, Brer Fox! Hol' on, Brer Fox! I got some news fer you. Wait Brer Fox! Hit'll 'stonish you.

Then agin he sorter looks like thet kind ov a feller ter me he wudn't do no runnin' hisself, but I reckon he'd take keer o' his folks. Whut's this yere under the bench? hell, a letter." He held it up to the light, in an effort to decipher the description.

An' the comp'ny was a gen'l'man an' a lady, an' the minit the gen'l'man, he saw Miss Lang, he jumped up outer his chair like a jumpin'-jack, an' his eyes got all kinder sparkly, an' he held out both of his hands to her, an' sorter shook her hands, till you'd think he'd shake 'em off. An' my mother, she said, 'I see you an' Miss Lang are already 'quainted, Mr.

One year later they were married and had two boys, Charles, now 47, employed as an auto repair man, and Samuel, 43, a sorter in the Post Office, both bachelors. "Yes sir, I sure was healthy-looking them days. Always was strong, never took a dollars worth of medicine in fifty year or more till I had these last sick spells. But we had good living in slave days.

At midday they have soup made out of sour cabbage and boiled grain, in the evening their supper consists of grain left from dinner. In the intervals they lie down, sleep, look out of window, and walk from one corner to the other. And so every day. Even the former sorter always talks of the same orders. Fresh faces are rarely seen in Ward No. 6.

"Now you begin to see, don't you, that DISTANCE ain't the thing to judge by, at all; it's the time it takes to go the distance IN that COUNTS, ain't it?" "Well, hit do look sorter so, but I wouldn't 'a' b'lieved it, Mars Tom."

"Waal," he replied, in a drowsy tone, "I dunno 'bout'n that. I'm sorter banged out, 'kase I hev had a powerful hard day's work a-bilin' sorghum at our house. I b'lieves I'll rest my bones hyar, an' wait fur ye." As he spoke, he rolled up one of the coats which they had both thrown off, during their search for the nest on the summit of the cliff, and slipped it under his head.