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Updated: May 18, 2025
Doan' worry, honey; ain't nothin' gwinter happen to her arter I gits my han's on her." When I came down to breakfast, Aunt Chloe was waiting for me in the hall.
"I doan know, ma';" and we've not got any further than that yet. But G and I are picking up many words of Kafir, and it is quite mortifying to see how much more easily the little monkey learns than I do. I forget my phrases or confuse them, whereas when he learns two or three sentences he appears to remember them always.
He says he believes that the Lord is overruling our defeat, and that the driving us out from our homes and scattering us abroad will be the means of extending King George's sway, and raising up a great nation in this land." "Missie Jean," and Mammy raised a warning finger, "I doan want to predjis you 'ginst yer daddy's jeg'ment, remember. But I can't see de Lo'd's hand in dis racket.
"Well, stop a moment and look," said I. "Isn't it magnificent?" The blackies stopped and looked. "Putty good," said Sammy, "but I doan' care fo' views," he added. "Dey makes me dizzy." I gave Sammy up from that moment. He was well carved, a work of art, in fact, but he was essentially modern, and I was living in the antique.
"She'll die on my han's, Mars Tom, she sholy will; kase I doan' skasely ever cry." So Tom was stumped. But he studied it over, and then said Jim would have to worry along the best he could with an onion. He promised he would go to the nigger cabins and drop one, private, in Jim's coffee-pot, in the morning.
Sam was summoned, and Rebecca asked: "Sam, could you find my brother?" "I doan know, misse; but I believe old black Sam could." "Would you take a small bit of writing to him?" "If misse want um to go, ole black Sam, him try. De bay boss, him go fast, an' black Sam, him go on um back." Rebecca hastily wrote on a slip of paper: DEAR BROTHER; Ester is at our house and would like to see you.
He says: "I doan' want to go fool'n 'long er no wrack. We's doin' blame' well, en we better let blame' well alone, as de good book says. Like as not dey's a watchman on dat wrack."
"He worshipped his maw, an' she jest 'dored down on him," she said; "but 'tain't only he want look like her, he doan' want look like his paw. Ev'one know what Cun'l de Courcy was an' dat chile jest 'spise him. He was allus a mons'ous proud chile, and when de Cun'l broke loose an' went on one o' his t'ars, it mos' 'stroyed dat boy wid de disgracefulness.
Almost in silence they climbed down the old trail, edged across the bridge, and strode with a steady pace up the long six miles over the Point to their home. "What's 'salting a mine, Tony?" asked Job of the black hostler one day a week after. "Doan' know, Marse Job, unless it's doctoring the critter so you can make somebody believe it's worth a million, when it ain't worth a rabbit's hind foot.
A group on the kerbstone broke into song: Now, honey, yo' stay in yo' own back yard, Doan min' what dem white chiles do; What show yo' suppose dey's a-gwine to gib A little black coon like yo'? So stay on this side of the high boahd fence, An', honey, doan cry so hard; Go out an' a-play, jes' as much as yo' please, But stay in yo' own back yard.
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