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Updated: June 4, 2025
"I wish to see Mr Holt," I replied, struggling hard to keep my temper. "Ye wish to see Mister Holt? Thur's no Mister Holt 'bout hyur." "No?" "No! damnation, no! Didn't ye hear me!" "Do I understand you to say, that Hickman Holt does not live here?" "You understan' me to say no sich thing. Eft's Hick Holt ye mean, he diz live hyur." "Hick Holt yes that is the name." "Wall what o't, ef't is?"
"A pit nae meaning into a word that's no in it on its ain accoont," she replied with uncompromising grimness. "Business is just business, an' my son diz nae business on the Lord's Day." There was no place for casuistry in the old Scotch lady's mind. A thing was or was not, and there was an end to that. "Certainly, Mrs. McNish, certainly!
"Wagh! it don't beat Garey if he diz hit it," exclaimed a third. What was our amazement at seeing the girl fling off her plumed bonnet, place the gourd upon her head, fold her arms over her bosom, and standing fronting us as calm and immobile as if she had been carved upon the tree! There was a murmur in the crowd.
But upo' the ither han' there's ae thing it's eesed for by some, 'at canna be considert a richt eese to mak o' 't: there's ae wull tribe in America they tell me o', 'at ait a hantle o' 't and that's a thing I cannot un'erstan'; for it diz them, they say, no guid at a', 'cep, maybe, it be jist to fill-in the toom places i' their stammacks, puir reid craturs, and haud their ribs ohn stucken thegither and maybe that's jist what they ait it for!
Belike enuf, the skunk tuk him back the same night, and then come agin 'ithout him; or Kipp might a sent a nigger to fetch him?" "But Holt's own horse the old `critter, as you call him?" "That diz need explainin'. He must a left him ahind. He culdn't a tuk him in the dug-out; besides, he wan't worth takin' along. The old thing war clean wore out, an' wuldn't a sold for his weight in corn-shucks.
If he diz, tell him t' go aisy over th' twelth verse an' explain that th' works He did can be done in Antrim by any poor craither who's got th' Spirit." Sam straightened up to his full height and in measured words said: "Ye know, no doubt, Anna, that Misther Gwynn is a Churchman an' I'm a Presbyterian. He wouldn't take kindly to a hint from a Mill Row maan, I fear, especially on a disputed text."
"Wal, then; that ur's a desprit weepun, for them as knows how to use it; an' he diz; that Injun diz. T'other had a hatchet, too, but he didn't keep it long. 'Twur clinked out o' his hands in a minnit, an' then the Coco got a down blow at him. Wagh! it wur a down blow, an' it wa'n't nuthin' else. It split the niggur's head clur down to the thrapple.
I reck'n I ain't quite forgot how: though I am bamfoozled a bit by these hyar parairies consarn them! Ah! them woods, capt'n! it diz one good to look at 'em!" The eyes of the young hunter sparkled with enthusiasm as he spoke. It was a real forest that was before us a large tract covered with gigantic cotton-wood trees, and the only thing deserving the name of forest we had seen for many days.
As we proceeded to wash the cups, Mary asked: "Diz th' ministhers in America wash dishes?" "Some of them." "What kind?" "My kind." "What do th' others do?" "The big ones lay corner-stones and the little ones lay foundations." "Saints alive," she said, "an' what do th' hens do?" "Pavin' stones?" "I didn't say pavin' stones!" "Oh, aye," she laughed loudly.
The woman, observing what he was after, rushed forward, and, placing her hands upon his, said in a kind tone: "No, Senor. Su proteccion necesita usted." "Phwhat diz she say, Raowl?" "She says, keep them; you will need their protection yourself." "Och, be me sowl! she's not far asthray there. I need it bad enough now, an' a hape ov good they're likely to do me.
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