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And I, havin' stood up on a barell all day a-scrapin' the ceilin', and not bein' recuperated yet from the skairtness and dizziness of my day's work, I sez to him: "Is rostrums much higher than them barells we have to stand on to the meetin' house?" And Josiah said, "it wuz suthin' altogether different." And he assured me agin,
And I, havin' stood up on a barell all day a-scrapin' the ceilin', and not bein' recuperated yet from the skairtness and dizziness of my day's work, I sez to him: "Is rostrums much higher than them barells we have to stand on to the meetin' house?" And Josiah said, "it wuz suthin' altogether different." And he assured me agin,
"Kind o' ticklish business, ain't it?" he said. The artist admitted that it was. "I reckon I wouldn't ever 'a' done for a painter," said the old man, readjusting his legs. "It's settin'-work, and that's good; but you have to keep at it steady-like keep a-daubin' and a-scrapin' and a-daubin' and a-scrapin', day in and day out. I shouldn't like it.
Clarence Stull, polishing a stove in the rear of Pierce's hardware store, was swift to divulge that Mrs. Lansdale had "asked Chet Pierce to have a glass of wine, and him a-bowin' and a-scrapin' like you'd think he was goin' to fly off the handle!" It was enough for the town.
Then, lowering his voice, he asked: "Didn't they 'low down yander in the Cove ez Widder Peters, the day her husband war killed by the landslide up in the mounting, heard a hoe a-scrapin' mightily on the gravel in the gyarden-spot, an' went ter the door, an' seen him thar a-workin', an' axed him when he kem home? An' he never lifted his head, but hoed on.
Dar wan't no sense in it, no ways hits put, but Ise heered Marse Tom 'low hit wuz a civil war, en dat's what it wuz. When de Yankees come a-ridin' up en a-reinin' in dere hosses befo' de front po'ch, en Miss Chris come out a-smilin' en a-axin' howdy, en den dey stan' dar a-bowin' en a-scrapin', hit wuz des' es civil es ef dey'd come a-co'tin'. But Ole Miss wuz dead en buried, she wuz."
Oh, good Lawd 'a' mussy! my po' back! my po' back! Oh! don't dra ag you ain't a-needin' to drag me. I'll walk, Mahse John Wesley, I'll walk! Oh! you a-scrapin' my knees off! Oh! dat whip ain't over dak! You can't re'ch it down! ef I bite " There was a silent instant and the mulatto screamed.
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