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Updated: June 18, 2025
Rheumatiz don't he'p at de log-rollin'. Mole don't see w'at his naber doin'. Save de pacin' mar' fer Sunday. Don't rain eve'y time de pig squeal. Crow en corn can't grow in de same fiel'. Tattlin' 'oman can't make de bread rise. Rails split 'fo' bre'kfus'll season de dinner. Dem w'at knows too much sleeps under de ash-hopper.
He owned 'bout thirty-five hund'ed acres an' at leas' a hund'ed an' fifty slaves. "Ever' mornin' 'bout fo' 'clock us could hear dat horn blow for us to git up an' go to de fiel'. Us always quit work 'fore de sun went down an' never worked at night. De overseer was a white man. His name was Josh Neighbors, but de driver was a cullud man, 'Old Man Henry. He wasn't 'lowed to mistreat noboby.
But why does every one leave the cotton crop to the negro. It isn't a hard crop to raise, is it?" "Thar's no one else c'n do it but the negro, sah," the preacher answered. "It's the hardes' kin' of work, an' it has to be done in summer, an' thar's no shade in a cotton fiel'. Right from the sowin' until the las' boll is picked, cotton needs tendin', an' yo' don' have much cool weather down hyar."
Down in de cawn fiel' Hear dat mo'nful soun'; All de darkies am aweepin', Massa's in de col', col' ground. Every typical settlement in English America was in its first phase a bit of the frontier. Commerce was rudimentary, capital scant, and industry primitive. Each family had to suffice itself in the main with its own direct produce.
Now there is a steady market for pickles, and, so far as I know, there are no pickle farms in the West." "Pickles!" ejaculated the astonished Isham. "Do you mean, Miss Null, to put dat fiel' down in kukumbers at dis time o' yeah?"
"Is I a beas' o' de fiel'?" she exclaimed indignantly, "or is I a humanous bein'?" "Must all human beings have sorrows?" "Yes, boss, but each has he own kin'! Big man has big sorrer, little man have little sorrer, and dem as is middlin' men dey has middlin' sorrers." "It's all one," I said, "each gets what he can stand and no more.
Den I started to workin' in de fiel' wid de rest of de hands. De oberseer dat we had was right mean to us when we didn' work our rows as fas' as de others, an' sometime he whup us, wimmen an' all. When he did dat some of us most nigh allus tell de marster an' he would jump on de oberseer an' tell him to lay off de wimmen an' chullun. Dey was allus sort of thoughtful of us an' we loved old marster.
I heerd ole marse tell ole miss he wuz gwine take yo' Sam 'way wid 'im ter-morrow, fer he needed money, an' he knowed whar he could git a t'ousan' dollars fer Sam an' no questions axed. "W'en Sam come home f'm de fiel' dat night, I tole him 'bout ole marse gwine steal 'im, an' Sam run erway.
"De fiel' oberseer do de whippin' on dat plantation," whispered Uncle Rufus, "an' Sally Alley knowed wot dat meant." "Oh, dear me!" cried tender-hearted Tess. "They didn't re'lly beat her?" "Don't try to get ahead of the story, Tess," said Agnes, but rather shakingly. "We'll all hear it together." "Das it," said Uncle Rufus. "Jes' gib Unc' Rufus time an' he'll tell it all.
Sam worked in de fiel', an' I wuz de cook. One day Ma'y Ann, ole miss's maid, come rushin' out ter de kitchen, an' says she, ''Liza Jane, ole marse gwine sell yo' Sam down de ribber. "'Go way f'm yere, says I; 'my husban's free! "'Don' make no diff'ence.
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