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Updated: May 2, 2025
They're the regular swingin' ice-pitcher sort. Git folks like that in town an' it wouldn't be no time befo' they'd start a-chargin' pew rent in our churches. We was both glad when they give out thet they wasn't a-goin' to build the road. They say railroads is mighty corrupting an' me, with my sick headaches, an' a' ingine whistle in town, no indeed!
She'd be sittin' on a red velvet sofa with a gold cupola over her head a-chargin' five dollars apiece for tellin' yer fortune. Yes, sir, she would!" "But but about Uncle Joe," persisted the boy. "Can't he really see at all, Susan?" "There, there, child, don't think anything more about it. Indeed, forsooth, I'm tellin' the truth, but I s'pose I hadn't oughter told it before you.
Secretly, she had a desire to account for Lodusky according to established theory. "I wonder ye haint heern of him," said Mis Harney. "He was just awful old Hance! He was Nath's daddy, an' Lord! the wickedest feller! Folks was afeared of him. No one darsn't to go a-nigh him when he'd git mad a-rippin' 'n' a-rearin' 'n' a-chargin'.. 'N' he never got no religion, mind ye; he died jest that a-way.
Now see here, reg'lar bo'd eatin' bo'd, I mean is ten dollars, an' sleepin' and singuil meals is 'cordin' to the figgers you've sot for 'em. Ain't that so? Jes' so. Now, Pink, you an' me'll keep a runnin' account, you a-chargin' for reg'lar bo'd, an' I a'lowin' to myself credics for my absentees, accordin' to transion customers an' singuil mealers an' sleepers. Is that fa'r, er is it not fa'r?"
So he seen a comrade a-chargin', by that he knowed, and he hollers to him and called him by name I disremember now what the feller's name was. . . .
He's got the best hoss up this river, and on Sundays him an' Dave Branham goes a-chargin' along here a-picking off these rings jus' a-flyin'; an' Mart can do hit, I'm tellin' ye. Dave's mighty good hisself, but he ain't nowhar 'longside o' Mart." This was strange. I had told the Blight about our Fourth of July, and how on the Virginia side the ancient custom of the tournament still survived.
At this moment the refrain of a song from somewhere near the board fence came wafting through the air, "And he wiped up the floor wid McGeechy." McGaw turned his head in search of the singer, and not finding him, resumed his position. "What are your rates per ton?" asked Babcock. "We're a-chargin' forty cints," said McGaw, deferring to Lathers, as if for confirmation. "Who's 'we'?"
"That's whut Mart calls hit. He was over to the Gap last Fourth o' July, an' he says fellers over thar fix up like Kuklux and go a-chargin' on hosses and takin' off them rings with a ash-stick 'spear, Mart calls hit. He come back an' he says he's a-goin' to win that ar tourneyment next Fourth o' July.
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