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Updated: May 29, 2025
"Den de wah broke out, an' w'en it wuz ober de cullud folks wuz scattered. I went back ter de ole home; but Sam wuzn' dere, an' I couldn' l'arn nuffin' 'bout 'im. But I knowed he'd be'n dere to look fer me an' hadn' foun' me, an' had gone erway ter hunt fer me.
"Yesseh," he said, with a strutting attitude that somehow retained a sort of modesty, "I 'ad the gweatess success. Hah! a nuss is a nuss those time'. Only some time' 'e's not. 'Tis accawding to the povvub, what is that povvub, now, ag'in?" The proverb did not answer his call, and he waved it away. "Yesseh, eve'ybody wanting me at once couldn' supply the deman'."
One day I come down stair too fas and slip an fall. Right den I tile de Mrs. I couldn wear dem big heavy shoes and besides da makes mah feet so sore." "Bof de Mrs. and de Master sickly. An their chillun died. Da live in a big manshun house. Sho we had an overseer on de plantashun. De poor white people da live purty good, all dat I seed. It was a big plantashun.
'Twould be some kind of an explanation, though mebbe not the most satisfactory. . . . When I tell you that the man walked into my bar, three days since, an' scattered sovereigns all over my floor! When I tell you he couldn' pull out a han'kerchief to blow his nose but he sneezed sovereigns!" Mrs Polsue gasped.
To start with 'e was always my fav'rite brother, an' I couldn' bear his startin' in low sperits an' South Africa such a distance off; beside which, I told mysel', the girl must surely know 'er own mind. So now you know," concluded Sam, "what I means by the nex' verse "
Père Jerome turned and brought it. He made a motion in the direction in which the late visitor had disappeared. "Madame Delphine, you saw dat man?" "Not his face." "You couldn' billieve me iv I tell you w'at dat man purpose to do!" "Is dad so, Père Jerome?" "He's goin' to hopen a bank!" "Ah!" said Madame Delphine, seeing she was expected to be astonished.
"Does you mean I couldn'? Why, ain' you 'shamed of yohse'f talkin' dat a-way to ole Zack! I could a-tol' you, spry's yoh please, but it warn't good fer li'l boys jes' den." "Then tell me now!" Bip challenged. "How ole is you, honey?" came the irrelevant question. "I'll be seven next time," he answered. "Seven nex' time!"
"Two of the bigger boys, thinkin' he had a stroke or somethin', went up an' spoke, but he didn't answer, jes' hung on to that shelf. Standin' on the chair as he was, of course the boys couldn' make him let go, an' they couldn' make him hear or understan' a mite. So they pulled up a bench and one of 'em climbed up an' forced his hand open.
"Den he 'gun ter stedy how wuz he fur ter git dat stone. "He stedded an' he stedded, an' pyeard like de mo' he stedded de mo' he couldn' fix no way fur ter git it. He knowed he wuz blin', an' he knowed he trab'l so slow dat he 'lowed 'twould be years pun top er years befo' he'd git ter de crick, an' so he made up in 'is min' dat he'd let somebody git it fur 'im.
Ben wuz so 'stonish' dat he couldn' hoi' de boy, who slipped out'n his ban's an run to'ds de house ez fas' ez his legs would tote 'im. "Po' Ben kep' gittin' wus an' wus mixed up. He couldn' make out fer de life er 'im w'at could be de matter. Nobody didn' 'pear ter wanter own 'im.
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