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Updated: May 20, 2025
"I don't need anything till I'm ready to have my sash tied," answered Lulu, "and then I'll come in to Mamma Vi and you to have it done. She was very good to send you, Agnes, and you to come." "La! chile, it's jus' my business to mind Miss Wilet," returned Agnes. "An' she's good to eberybody, ob cose always was."
Mah daddy could only see mah mammy Wednesday en Saturday nites, en ef'n he kum wid'out a pass de pat-rollers would whup 'im er run 'im 'til his tongue hung out. On dem nites we would sit up en look fer daddy en lots ob times he wuz out ob bref cose he had run so much. Mah white folks had a loom en we wove our own clothes. I wuz nuss en house girl en l'arned how ter sew en nit.
There must be some road of escape from this horrible situation, and as she sought blindly for it the path opened before her. "Where is Hop?" she asked quickly. "A-sleepin' in his room, ma'am." "Go to the store and tend it till I come back, Jim. I may be an hour, or mebbe two, but don't you move out of it for a moment. And don't ever speak of any of this, not a word, Jim." "No'm, 'cose I won't."
"Cose dey is, but dey's already damned; but dey's souls on de wes' plantation to be saved." "Oomph, uh, uh, uh!" grunted Lize. "You done called me de shepherd, ain't you, sistah? Well, sayin' I is, when dey's little lambs out in de col' an' dey ain' got sense 'nough to come in, er dey do' know de way, whut do de shepherd do?
Freedom sutny has done tuk erway yo' mannahs." "Yes, yes, yes, that's all right, but we want to establish the fact that your name is Dicey Fairfax." "Cose it is." "Your Honor, I object I " "Your Honor," said Fairfax coldly, "will you grant me the liberty of conducting the examination in a way somewhat out of the ordinary lines?
"You is too," and Uncle Billy's forefinger began to shake in the other's face. "You's stealin' a nigger!" "What dat?" and Jeems Henry's eyes opened wide with amazement. "What you talkin' 'bout?" "Talkin' 'bout you," replied Uncle Billy, sharper than ever. "Dey say a nigger's wuth a thousan' dollars. 'Cose you ain't wuth dat much," he said with utter disgust.
Up, and all day long finishing and writing over my will twice, for my father and my wife, only in the morning a pleasant rencontre happened in having a young married woman brought me by her father, old Delkes, that carries pins always in his mouth, to get her husband off that he should not go to sea, 'une contre pouvait avoir done any cose cum else, but I did nothing, si ni baisser her'. After they were gone my mind run upon having them called back again, and I sent a messenger to Blackwall, but he failed.
Had to walk. My old master was Henry Ralls. Sometimes we jump up in the wagon and he'd whip us out. "My old mistes name was Drunetta. She was good to us. We called her Miss Netta. Old master was mean. He'd whip us. One day he come along and picked up sand and throwed it in my eyes. He was a mean old devil. He thought I was scared of him. Cose I was. That was before the war.
But a volume more precious still, with its dainty finish and piquant history, conferred distinction, it was said, among the literati, upon its youthful owner; this was no less a treasure than that first copy of "Le Cose Volgare di Messer Francesco Petrarca," most exquisitely printed in type modeled after the poet's own elegant handwriting, and the volume had been superintended by many learned heads, awaited with impatience, as a triumph for its makers, and thought a thing rare enough to be offered, like a jewel, to the learned and illustrious lady, Isabella of Mantua.
"De fish an' me 'ud bof be briled in dis yere sun 'fore we got home." "Bar, Unc., you wouldn't go to Heben 'less you was toted." "Ob cose not. Doan de Bible say de angels gwine ter tote us?" "Well, I s'pose dey is. Ef a body ony know'd weder it ud be up or down." "Dar now, Aun' Sheba, wot fei you talk so se'rus in Augst? Nex' winter we'se gwine ter hab a refreshin' from on high."
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