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Updated: May 6, 2025
His whole appearance was suggestive of the shady side of life. With the industry of a student he pored over a disheveled sporting paper for half an hour, then throwing it under the seat he cast a furtive look at his neighbor, and presently said, "Dere'll be big fields to-day."
"I des hope dere'll be sump'n lef ob me ter reckermember," said Aun' Jinkey, but she rose to comply with the soldier's requirement, feeling that her only course was to fall in with the wishes of whoever happened to be uppermost in the troublous times now foreseen. She was in a terribly divided state of mind.
Bimeby dey'll git ter makin' sho' nuff fokes, an' den dere'll be a racket 'roun' here. Dey tells me dat it goes off like one er deze yer torpedoes." "You year dat, don't you?" said one or two of the younger negroes. "Dat's w'at dey tells me," continued Uncle Remus. "Dat's w'at dey sez. Hit's one er deze yer kinder w'atzisnames w'at sasses back w'en you hollers at it."
An Missy Mara look 'im in de eyes an say, you dat's you, Marse Clancy may be dead, or you may be dyin, an dat she can't leab you an she won leab you. She got de grit ob true lub, an dere'll neber be any runin away in her heart. Wot you an Marse Bodine gwine ter do 'bout sich lub as dat? 'Fo' de Lawd my honey lam' die ef you an Marse Bodine 'sist on bein so orful hon'ble.
Several of the men wavered, and looked irresolute. "I reckon that's all so, doctuh," returned Josh, "an', de way you put it, I don' blame you ner Mr. Watson; but all dem reasons ain' got no weight wid me. I'm gwine in dat town, an' ef any w'ite man 'sturbs me, dere'll be trouble, dere'll be double trouble, I feels it in my bones!" "Remember your old mother, Josh," said Miller.
"Reckon it is," was the capable answer. "Won't you give everybody some, Maria?" For Jem had gone up stairs with a tray of glasses, and Maria seemed to be resting upon her labours. "Dere'll come down orders for mo', chile; and 'spose I gives it to de company, what'll Mis' Lisa do wid Maria? I have de 'sponsibility of Christmas." "But you can make some more," I said, holding my glass in waiting.
You is goin' ter be lucky in love, 'n then you is goin' ter be unlucky. You is goin' ter risk gettin' shot, but dere ain't goin' ter be no shootin'. When summer come around you is goin' ter have sorrer in you' breas', and when winter comes around dere'll be de same ole sorrer, a twistin' and a gnawin'." "What sort of a sorrow, Auntie?"
I did not know what to say, and he answered the question himself: "Yas, de Lord knows, dat man needs tendin' to, an I'se mighty anxious fur de good Lord to take him in han'. We'll live to see ebery black man free, Miss Em'ly, we shall, shure, an' dere'll be high times down in Charleston. Wonder what little Molly'll do?" "I have been thinking about her," I said.
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