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Updated: May 18, 2025
Whirling his horse and digging in the spurs, he rattled pell-mell down the opposite steep toward Cottonville, shouting as he went. "They've done got him they've found him! Miss Johnnie Consadine's a-bringin' him down in his own cyar!" At the Hardwick place, where the front lawn sloped down with its close-trimmed, green-velvet sward, stood two horses.
But the hostile look on the porter's face scared him, and he could not help a tremor that crept into his voice as he made his reply. "Whar's yer ticket?" snarled the negro. Reaching into his pocket, Bob drew forth the long strip of paper and presented it to the officious porter. "The ticket's all right," grunted the man. "Now, whar's youah parlah cyar ticket?" "My what?" asked Bob.
Course, I got to get you cured up an' took cyar of first." "I cayn't say much about being pious on Old Mississip'," Prebol grinned, "but theh's two ways of findin' trouble. One's to set still long enough, and then, again, you can go lookin' fo' hit. Course, yo' know me! I've hunted trouble pretty fresh, an' I've found hit, an' I've lived onto hit.
"My marster, Lord; my marster, Lord O Lord, he does his bes', So when yer savin' sinners, Lord, Save him wid all de res'. "O bless us, Lord! O bless us, Lord! An' keep us in yer cyar; Unless yer'll come an' bless us, Lord, We're gwine ter hol' yer hyear. "My missus, Lord; my missus, Lord, O bless my missus now She's tryin' hard ter serve yer, Lord, But den she dunno how. "O bless us, Lord!
"Looks like it had laid out in the dew last night," breathed Johnnie. "Or for a week," supplied Pros. He scanned the little brown thing, then her face. "All right," he said dubiously; "if that there tells you that he come a-past here, we'll foller this road though it 'pears to me like we ought to stick to the cyar." "It isn't far to our house," urged Johnnie. "Let's go there first, anyhow."
Goree; what you would call a fa'r price for a feud that's been 'lowed to run down like yourn hev. Thar's only you left to cyar' on yo' side of it, and you'd make mighty po' killin'. I'll take it off yo' hands, and it'll set me and Missis Garvey up among the quality. Thar's the money." The little roll of currency on the table slowly untwisted itself, writhing and jumping as its folds relaxed.
"Youah parlah cyar ticket." "That's all the ticket I have," returned Bob. "Isn't that enough? I told the man I wanted a chair-car ticket, and that's what he gave me." "Huh! I thought so. This ain't no chair cyar. This is a parlah cyar. The cyar you-all want is up front, four cyars ahead. Now get out of hyar lively." "But I can't get out while the train's going," protested Bob.
Such a man, I am sure, was the dhriver of my cyar, who may readily be identified. His physiognomy is very like the railway map of Ireland, coloured red, with the rivers and mountain ranges in dark-blue or plum-colour. As a means of ready reference he would be invaluable in the House of Commons. How interesting to see Mr. The G.O.M. would find the Kerry member invaluable.
'Twas in America I larned the secret." Cork, April 20th. No. 11. "What's the next place to this?" I asked, as the Southern and Western Railway deposited me at Tralee. I was uncertain as to whether the place was a terminus, but the gintleman who dhrove the cyar I hailed marvelled greatly at my ignorance. He surveyed me from top to toe with a compassionate expression.
Yassir, when I heerd from Miss Sally I done comed here to tek cyar ob her." "How is your mistress?" I asked. "She po'ly, Marse Dave," said Lindy, and paused for adequate words. I took note of this darky who, faithful to a family, had come hither to share her mistress's exile and obscurity. Lindy was spare, energetic, forceful and, I imagined, a discreet guardian indeed for the unfortunate.
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