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There was a general murmur indicating approval of this sentiment, and several "that's sos" were heard, but Israel said, as he patted Hubbard paternally on the back: "Let bygones be bygones, Paul. Them things be all over naow, an I callate thar won't be no more busin of poor folks. The lyin an the lamb be a gonter lie down together arter this, 'cordin tew scripter.
He tuk a lackin' ter Mars Marrabo McSwayne's oldes' gal, Miss Libbie, en useter go ober dere eve'y day er eve'y ebenin', en folks said dey wuz gwine ter git married sho'. But it 'pears dat Miss Libbie heared 'bout de gwineson on Mars Jeems's plantation, en she des 'lowed she could n' trus' herse'f wid no sech a man; dat he mought git so useter 'busin' his niggers dat he 'd 'mence ter 'buse his wife atter he got useter habbin' her roun' de house.
Mr. The Englishman had got as far into his usual objurgation as, "What bu- si " when he checked himself. "Ah, it is sad, it is sad! Helas, it is unhappy, it is sad!" Thus old Monsieur Mutuel, shaking his gray head. "What busin at least, I would say, what do you mean, Monsieur Mutuel?" "Our Corporal. Helas, our dear Corporal!" "What has happened to him?" "You have not heard?" "No." "At the fire.
And she laughed softly as she gave her hand to Fitz, who touched it very much as if he quite believed the colonel's reference to the porcelain to be true. "There you go, Nancy, 'busin' me like a dog, and here I've been a-trampin' the streets for a' hour lookin' for flowers for you! You are breakin' my heart, Miss Caarter, with yo' coldness and contempt.
"De w'ite folks don' want too good an opinion er de niggers, ef dey had a good opinion of 'em, dey wouldn' have no excuse f er 'busin' an' hangin' an' burnin' 'em. But ef dey can't keep from doin' it, let 'em git de right man! Dis way er pickin' up de fus' nigger dey comes across, an' stringin' 'im up rega'dliss, ought ter be stop', an' stop' right now!"
"What are you, 'busin' that 'ere garment for?" cried an old sheet-anchor-man. "Don't you see it's a 'uniform mustering jacket' three buttons on one side, and none on t'other?" "Silence!" again cried the auctioneer. "How much, my sea-fencibles, for this superior old jacket?" "Well," said Grummet, "I'll take it for cleaning-rags at one cent." "Oh, come, give us a bid! say something, Colombians."
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