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Updated: June 27, 2025
"What are you going to do with your baby?" inquired the Colonel. "I'm gwine to feed it, sir; its mammy is ded, an' I hab to feed it myself." "What do you give it to eat?"
With US there's no bitter, wicked, quarling of this sort. WE don't hate our children, or bully our mothers, or wish 'em ded when they're sick, as this Dairywoman says kings and queens do. When we're writing to our friends or sweethearts, WE don't fill our letters with nasty stoaries, takin away the carricter of our fellow-servants, as this maid of honor's amusin' moral frend does.
Jan. 20. father is sick becaus he et to mutch salt fish and potato and pork. he is auful cross and hit me a bat today becaus i left the door open. i gess he will be sorry when i am ded. Jan. 21. brite and fair. went to church in the morning and in the afternoon greeced some paper and trased some pictures.
Dave Duffy called. 7th. Fine. Roped the red filly. 8th. Showery. Sold the gray mair's fole. 9th. Fine. Wint to the Red hill after a horse. 10th. Fine, Found tree sheap ded in sqre padick. I closed the book and put it up with a sigh. The little record was a perfect picture of the dull narrow life of its writer.
She jes come thru de hen house door en hit was locked en den thru de pantry door and hit was locked en I jes called her daughter and I knowed I seed her, sho, I did, it who was Miss Annie. "Of course dar is hanted houses. De ole Sharp house were dat er way and all de Sharps were ded but dis house were empty.
Beany feels prety big about his new ax and he had got so that he can grunt jest like men who chop wood all the time. so Beany he swung the ax over his head and it hit the closeline and bounced rite up in the air and came rite down on Beanys head and he fell down whack and laid there till his father came out and lugged him into the house. they thought he was ded but he wasent.
"Naden't come ef 'ee don't want to more'n thet!" retorted Phoebe, "and I could have shown 'ee where the old pig was killed. There's been a dark place on the stones ever since. I saw it killed, I did, Ishmael Ruan. I saw Da stick in the knife and the blood come all out, I ded!" "So 'a ded, my 'andsome, so 'a ded!" applauded the miller, whose big form, powdery white, had appeared in the passage.
Also whan the prelate of the abbeye is ded, I have undirstonden, be informacioun, that his lampe quenchethe. And whan thei chesen another prelate, zif he be a gode man and worthi to be prelate, his lampe schal lighte, with the grace of God, withouten touchinge of ony man. For everyche of hem hathe a lampe be him self. And be here lampes thei knowen wel whan ony of hem schalle dye.
"I'm a shootin' at that Yank thar by the Dead Line, and by if you'uns don't take him in I'll blow the whole head offn him." "What Yank? Where's any Yank?" "Why, thar right thar a-standin' agin the Ded Line." "Why, you Rebel fool, that's a chunk of wood. You can't get any furlough for shooting that!"
The letter was written on soiled paper smelling strongly of tobacco, and it enclosed another smaller, sealed envelop. Maria read: "Deer Miss, I now tak my pen in hand to let you no that Gladys she is ded. She had a little boy bon, and he and she both died.
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