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"W'en de yankees wuz fightin' our folks and our mens wuz ter de front in battul, didunt dese hans er mine hole de plow dat brung de corn ter feed my missus? At night did I sleep er wink wen dare wuz eny t'ing lackly ter pester de wimmins?" said he in the same high tones. I is er hones' 'oman myself. But out wid yer pizen.
He transferred them to some person in the cab, in accordance with a carefully prearranged plan. That person was a woman!" "A woman!" Mr. Latham repeated, as if startled. "Dere iss alvays wimmins in id," remarked Mr. Schultze philosophically. "Go on." Mr.
But theah allus sown in wild an' waste places as is right an' fitten, an' thu seed runs out in time. Thu betteh growths need pureh soil, an' men wisely sow theah good seed in the clean gahdens that Gawd intended thu otheh kind o' wimmins' hearts to be.
Wynne," the detective went on, there being no response to his questioning look at Mr. Schultze. "One of my agents, stationed on the roof of the house adjoining Mr. What did it mean? It means that that particular message was from the girl to whom he transferred the diamonds in the cab, and that he is madly in love with her." "Oh, dese wimmins! I dell you!" commented Mr. Schultze.
"De wimmins befoh de wah an' since de wah an' in de wah hez allus hed a pertectur in old Uncle Silas, an' yer knows it!" said he, pointing his index finger at his wife. "Wal, I'm comin' ter de p'int. Bud's done kilt er 'oman. He ain't no blood uv min'. You ain't been er true wife ter me. He's sumbody else's boy. He aint mine. My blood don't run dat'er way." Not a muscle in Mrs.
"I was big' nough in de Civil War to drive five yoke o' steers to Mobile an' git grub to feed de wimmins an' chilluns. Some o' de mens was a-fightin' an' some was a-runnin' an' hidin'. I was a slave an' I had to do what dey tol' me. I carried grub into de swamp to men, but I never knowed what dey was a-hidin' from." "My old Marster had fo' sons, an' de younges' one went to de war an' was killed.
"De Relief give me a little somethin' t'eat an' wear one time, but dey aint never give me no money. I's old an' needy, but I's trustin' de Lord an' de good white folks to he'p me now. All de white folks I used to work for has moved away from town now. I don' have nobody to look to but my daughter. She looks after me de bes' she can. Dey is some neighbor wimmins dat comes an' sets wid me sometimes.
Preacher Robinson. He was a Methodis'. "De slaves was well treated when dey got sick. My Marster had a standin' doctor what he paid by de year. Dey was a horspital building near de quarters an' a good old granny woman to nuss de sick. Dey was five or six beds in a room. One room was for mens an' one for wimmins. Us doctor was name Richardson an' he tended us long after de war.
Dem Niggers worked for dey keep. I 'clare, dey sho' did. "Us 'ud dike out in spick an' span clean clothes come Sund'ys. Ever'body wore homespun clo'es den. De mistis an' de res' o' de ladies in de Big House made mos' of 'em. De cullud wimmins wore some kin' o' dress wid white aprons an' de mens wore overalls an' homespun pants an' shirts.
Den he says, 'Jim, dissen's 'bout you. It gives yo' birthday. "I recollec' a heap' bout slav'ry-times, but I's all by myse'f now. All o' my frien's has lef' me. Even Marse Fleming has passed on. He was a little boy when I was a grown man. "I was born in a cotton fiel' in cotton pickin' time, an' de wimmins fixed my mammy up so she didn' hardly lose no time at all. My mammy sho' was healthy.
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