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Wot kin a nigger earn for yer? Corn, taters, melons: faugh! Tobacco is a givin' out, cotton won't live yer. But Floredey is the hell-dorader of the yearth." "What's the hell-dorader?" asked Levin. "That's Spanish or Porteygee for cheap niggers an' cotton," cried the trader. "Cotton's the bird!" "I thought cotton was a wool," Levin said.
"The ole Eastern Sho'," Jack Wonnell said, with his animated vacancy, "is jess stuffed with good things, Cap'n Johnsin. You kin fall ovaboard most anywhair an' git a full meal. You kin catch a bucket of crabs with a piece of a candle befo' breakfast, an' shoot a wild-duck mos' with your eyes shet." "This country's good for nothin'," Joe Johnson said. "Floredey is the land!
Eurip is crazy about it, but there ain't niggers enough to pick it all. So I'm in the nigger trade an' tryin' to be useful to my country, an' wot does I git fur it? I git looked down on, an' a nigger's pertected fur a-topperin' of me! But never mind, I'll be a big skull yet, an' keep my kerrige in Floredey." "What's Floredey good fur?" Levin asked.
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