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"What I know 'bout poll-tax, Squar' Nimbus? Dat what yer ax? Gad! I knows all 'bout 'em, dat I do, from who tied de dog loose. Who'se a better right, I'd like ter know? I'se paid it, an' ole Marse Sykes hes paid it for me; an' den I'se hed ter pay him de tax an' half a dollah for 'tendin' ter de biznis for me.
I shall stop here a few periods and enjoy my "Oatem cum dig the tates," as our skool master observes, in the buzzum of my famerly, & shall then resume the show biznis, which Ive bin into twenty-two yeres and six months. My naburs is mourn harf crazy on the new-fangled ideas about Sperrets.
I wish I had such a Forrest in my Garding! I feel that the Show Bizniss, which Ive stroven to ornyment, is bein usurpt by Poplar Lecturs, as thay air kalled, tho in my pinion thay air poplar humbugs. Individoouls, who git hard up, embark in the lecturin biznis.
Sperretooul Sircles is held nitely & 4 or 5 long hared fellers has settled here and gone into the Sperret biznis excloosively. A atemt was made to git Mrs. A. Ward to embark into the Sperret biznis but the atemt faled. 1 of the long hared fellers told her she was a ethereal creeter & wood make a sweet mejium, whareupon she attact him with a mop handle & drove him out of the house.
The arrangement we are about to enter into is a very important one, and, as you are not postmaster, your husband will have to be present to witness and ratify the bargain." "Bless yeour soul," replied she, "it's all right. I 'tend to all the biznis. My husband doesn't bother hissef abeout it in the least." "Madam," answered the officer, "pardon me.
I was a slave in Carlina, an' I had a good massa, Miss; a fus-rate man, but he done tuk sick an' died, an' then wh-e-ew," and he gave a long, low whistle, "thar cum sich a time thar; de ole woman she done no nuthin' 'bout de biznis, an' de big son he sell all de niggers an' get all de money, an' dars whar my trubbel begin.
"I haint gut enny," sed I "not a prinserpul. Ime in the show biznis." The man in black close, I will hear obsarve, seemed to be as fine a man as ever was in the wurld. "But," sez he, "you hav feelins into you? You cimpathize with the misfortunit, the loly & the hart-sick, don't you?"
It was divided into many tight braids, each of which was wrapped with a bit of shoe-string. From under the last one she took a small envelope and handed it to Ruth. "Dat's it," she said. "I was so skeered I'd lose it I didn't trust it no place 'cept in my head." Ruth unfolded the note and read: "DEAR RACHEL: I mean biznis if you mean biznis send me fore dollars to git a devorce. "George."
When I helpt you into the show biznis I told you to dignerfy that there profeshun. Litteratoor is low." He also statid that he was doin middlin well in the peanut biznis & liked it putty well, tho' the climit was rather warm. When the Sircle stopt thay axed me what I thawt of it. Sez I, "My frends I've bin into the show biznis now goin on 23 years.
"Ah! no, mawsteh, you cyan' do dat! It's ag'in' de law! I's 'bleeged to have my trial, yit. Oh, no, no! Oh, good God, no! Even if I is a nigga! You cyan' jis' murdeh me hyeh in de woods! Mo dis la zize! I tell de judge on you! You ain' got no mo' biznis to do me so 'an if I was a white 'oman! You dassent tek a white 'oman out'n de Pa'sh Pris'n an' do 'er so! Oh, sweet mawsteh, fo' de love o' God! Oh, Mawse Challie, pou' l'amou' du bon Dieu n'fé pas ça! Oh, Mawse 'Polyte, is you gwan to let 'em kill ole Clemence? Oh, fo' de mussy o' Jesus Christ, Mawse 'Polyte, leas' of all, you! You dassent help to kill me, Mawse 'Polyte! You knows why! Oh God, Mawse 'Polyte, you knows why! Leas' of all you, Mawse 'Polyte! Oh, God 'a' mussy on my wicked ole soul! I aint fitt'n to die! Oh, gen'lemen, I kyan' look God in de face! Oh, Michés, ayez pitié de moin! Oh, God A'mighty ha' mussy on my soul! Oh, gen'lemen, dough yo' kinfolks kyvvah up yo' tricks now, dey'll dwap f'um undeh you some day! Solé levé l
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