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Updated: May 16, 2025
Caroline Darrah clasped a sandwich to the death in her hands and questioned the negro with the same faith that she would have used in questioning Major Buchanan. "No, ma'am, he ain't going ter git nigger-beat if we can help it us society colored set, you understand, Miss Ca'line." Jeff's manner was an interesting mixture of pomposity and deference.
Now Ca'line shines when slow patience is the needcessity. She is great on a biled dinner, where the 'gredients have to jes' simper along. You have her make a Brunswick stew an' you'll think she is the bes' cook in the county.
One or two of his friends stayed in the room with him for a while and said vague things, but there was nothing to say. Later in the afternoon Cissie Dildine and her mother brought his dinner to him. Vannie Dildine, a thin yellow woman, uttered a few disjointed words about Sister Ca'line being a good woman, and stopped amid sentence. There was nothing to say.
I had three chullun, but ain't none livin' now." Mississippi Federal Writers Slave Autobiographies "My name is Tom Wilson an' I'se eighty fo' years old. My mammy was name Ca'line an' my pappy was Jeff Wilson. Us lived right out on de old Jim Wilson place, right by New Zion Chu'ch. I lives thar now owns me a plot of groun' an' farms. "Well, us b'longed to Marse Jim an' Miss Nancy Wilson.
But Ca'line she been dead long enough mos' six mont's countin' fo' weeks ter de mont'. An' as fur me, I done 'ranged ter have eve'ything did ter show respec's ter Numa." An', tell de trufe, Mis' Gladys, ef Numa was ter rise up f'om his grave, I'd sen' Pete a-flyin' so fast you could sen' eggs to market on his coat tail.
Ca'line Allison came next, in a white dress and the white slippers that had been thrown after Eugenia's carriage with the rice. She was flower girl, and carried an elaborate fancy basket filled with field daisies. A wreath of the same snowy blossoms crowned her woolly pate, and an expression of anxiety drew her little black face into a distressed pucker.
Each time, as she reached the word "throw" and grasped a handful of daisies to suit the action to the word, she tilted forward on the high French heels and almost came to a full stop in her effort to regain her balance. But Ca'line Allison was a plucky little body, accustomed to walking the tops of fences and cooning out on the limbs of high trees, so she reached the altar without mishap.
Without prior effort on his part he was fed even as the Prophet Elijah was fed by the ravens of old. This simile would acquire added strength if you'd ever seen Aunt Ca'line, her complexion being a crow's-wing sable.
She haul off an' slap me down an' call me all kin' o' names dat I didn' know what dey meant. My nose bled an' ruint de nice clean dress I had on. When de Mistis come back Marse George was wid 'er. She asked me what on earth happen to me an' I tol' 'er. Dey call Ca'line in de room an' asked her if what I say was de truf. She tell 'em it was, an' dey sent 'er away.
De bac'n is ready ter burn up and I 'low that there pan er baby bis'it is done to a turn. De coffee pot done het up de ice water and de ice water done took the 'roma from de coffee. Here I was a passin' compliments on Miss Molly 'bout her swif'ness, and she actin' jes lak Ca'line! De kitchen ain't no place fer spoons, 'less they is i'on spoons to stir up de batter wif.
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