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Updated: June 29, 2025
"Yes, to be sure, I can tell a nigger by his ear, if his skin's as white as chalk!" said Dusenberry. "It's all gammon this bringing bright outlandish men here, and trying to pass them off for white folks.
The shrewd face and white eyelashes of Ezekiel Corwin, junior partner in the firm of Dilworth & Dusenberry, of San Francisco, were momentarily raised towards the choir, and then relapsed into an expression of fatigued self-righteousness. When the service was over a few worshipers lingered near the choir staircase, mindful of the spring bonnet.
"She knows every nook and corner in the place," continued Salemina; "she has even seen the house where I was born, and her name is Benella Dusenberry." "Impossible!" cried Francesca. "Dusenberry is unlikely enough, but who ever heard of such a name as Benella! It sounds like a flavouring extract." "She came over to see the world, she says." "Oh! then she has money?"
Detached from Salemina's fostering care and prudent espionage, separated, above all, from the depressing Miss Dusenberry, we planned every conceivable folly in the way of guidebook expeditions. The exhilarating sense of being married, and therefore properly equipped to undertake any sort of excursion with perfect propriety, gave added zest to the affair in my eyes.
"You'll have to excuse me, Bailey," interrupted Captain Hiram, rising and looking at his watch. "I've stayed here a good deal longer'n I ought to, already. I must be gettin' on home to see how poor little Dusenberry, my boy, is feelin'. I do hope he's better by now. I wish Dr. Parker hadn't gone out of town." The depot master rose also. "And I'll have to be excused, too," he declared.
"Anybody up from below, Bill?" said the landlord as the driver slowly descended from his perch. "Nobody for you," responded Bill shortly. "Dusenberry kem up as usual, and got off at the old place. You can't make a livin' off him, I reckon." "Have you found out what his name is yet?" continued the landlord, implying that "Dusenberry" was simply a playful epithet of the driver.
The matter rested until the next morning, when the case of the little saucy nigger vs. South Carolina was renewed with fresh vigor. Then Mr. Grimshaw, accompanied by Dusenberry, proceeded to the barque, and there saw the boy busily engaged in the galley. Mr. Grimshaw went on board, followed by Duse, and approaching the cabin door, met the captain ascending the stairs.
In this manner he received the attention of the poor colored woman whose bed he occupied, and whom he had abused in searching for the boy. In this predicament, Dusenberry continued to search alone, and kept it up until sundown, when he was constrained to report the case to the sheriff, who suspended Mr. Dunn for a few days.
I told her that we could not follow British usage and call her by her surname. Dusenberry was too long and too well, too extraordinary for daily use abroad. "P'r'aps it is," she assented meekly; "and still, Mis' Beresford, when a man's name is Dusenberry, you can't hardly blame him for wanting his child to be called by it, can you?" This was incontrovertible, and I asked her middle name.
The thick clump of an azalea hid him from view, though it did not obstruct his survey of the stranger, whom he at once recognized as his former enemy, the man with the red handkerchief, the hopeful prospector of Red Mountain, and the hypothetical "Dusenberry" of the stage-driver. The stranger looked cautiously round, and Aristides shrank close behind the friendly azalea.
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