United States or Timor-Leste ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Let loosen my leg!" say a big voice all on a suddent. Dat li'l black boy 'most jump outen he skin, 'ca'se right dar in de paff is six 'mendjus big ghosts, an' de bigges' ain't got but one leg. So li'l black Mose jes natchully handed dat hunk of wood to dat bigges' ghost, an' he say: "'Scuse me, Mistah Ghost; Ah ain't know dis your leg."
"Let loosen my head!" say a big voice all on a suddent. Dat li'l black boy whut he name is Mose he jump 'most outen he skin. He open he eyes an' he 'gin to shake like de aspen tree, 'ca'se whut dat a-standin' right dar behind him but a 'mendjous big ghost! Yas, sah, dat de bigges', whites' ghost whut yever was. An' it ain't got no head. Ain't go no head at all.
All were motionless for an instant, doubtful, anxious, listening only the wintry wind with its keen sibilance; only the dash of the swift current; only the grating of the wheels on the sand as the oxen reached the opposite margin! But hark, again! A clear tenor voice in the fag end of an old song: "An' my bigges' bottle war my bes' friend, An' my week's work was all at an end!"
The Bishop's a good man, but if he ever gits to heaven, the bigges' diamon' in his crown'll be because he's lived with that old 'oman an' ain't committed murder. I don't believe in law suits, but if he ain't got a damage case agin the preacher that married him, then I'm wrong."
I got er weddin' cake to mek yit this ebenin'. Yes, ma'am I gwi' mek you weddin' cake fill de bigges' pan in de kitchen." She helped Annie rummage in her trunk and get out the sweater she had come in for, and it was not until the girl was running back to the barns that she realized Aunt Dolcey had not answered her question. But the old woman's words had steadied her, reassured her.
An' whut dem six ghostes do but stand round an' confabulate? Yas, sah, dass so. An' whin dey do so, one say: "'Pears like dis a mighty likely li'l black boy. Whut we gwine do fo' to reward him fo' politeness?" "Tell him whut de truth is 'bout ghosts." So de bigges' ghost he say: "Ah gwine tell yo' somethin' important whut yever'body don't know: Dey ain't no ghosts."
She put on a little prouder air, if possible, and added impressively: "Does you 'member Cunnel Cecil Burleigh Essex, dat died de same year yo' young Marse Tom Driscoll's pappy died, en all de Masons en Odd Fellers en Churches turned out en give him de bigges' funeral dis town ever seed? Dat's de man."
Ah had de bigges' fines' watermellon an ah wuz told to set up on de fence wid de watermellon an show 'em, and sell 'em fo twenty cents. Along cum a line o' soldiers." "Heigh there boy!... How much for the mellon?" holler one at me. "Twenty cents sir!" Ah say jes lak ah ben tol' to say; and he take dat mellon right out o' mah arms an' ride off widout payin' me.
"Yes'm it was all mighty bad, but plenty good things done happen in Mer-ree-dian, too. I'se seen dis town grow frum nothin'. When us come here 'fore de War, dey was hitchin' dey horses to little oak bushes right in de middle o' town where de bigges' stores is now.
"This hyeh's the bigges' meal I ever straddled. Why d'n't ye git the grist ground?" For a moment the girl did not answer, and Rome waited, breathless. "Wasn't the mill runnin'? Whyn't ye go on 'cross the river? "That's whut I did," said the girl, quietly. "Uncle Gabe wasn't thar, 'n' Rome Stetson was. I wouldn't 'low him to grin' the co 'n, 'n' so I toted hit back." "Rome Stetson!"
Word Of The Day