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Updated: May 16, 2025
Beasely dared raise a moist eye to the grim crayon of the departed, and observe: "I don't know what poor Charles would say to such a smeachin' supper, if he was alive. Oh, me! it does seem as though I didn't have no heart for cookery no more since he ain't here ter sample my work. A man's a gre't spur to a woman in her housekeepin'." "Good Land o' Goshen!" ejaculated the outspoken Mrs.
An' he kep' whisperin to her, an' callin' her name, an' coddlin' her; an' pres'n'y she took her han's down an' begin to laugh. "Well, dey 'peared to tek' a gre't fancy to each urr from dat time. Miss Anne she warn' nuthin' but a baby hardly, an' Marse Chan he wuz a good big boy 'bout mos' thirteen years ole, I reckon.
"The' was some things on the hoss, Squire, that the man he ketched said he did n' care no gre't abaout; but perhaps you'd like to have 'em fetched to the mansion-haouse. Ef y' did n' care abaout 'em, though, I should n' min' keepin' on 'em; they might come handy some time or 'nother; they say, holt on t' anything for ten year 'n' there 'll be some kin' o' use for 't."
"Yes, honey, dat he did gib us Fourth of July a plenty o' holiday a beef kilt, a mutton, hogs, salt, pepper, an' eberyting. He hab a gre't trench dug, and a whole load of wood put in it an' burned down to coals. Den dey put wooden spits across, an' dey had spoons an' basted de meat. An' we 'vite all de culled people aroun', an' dey come, an' we had fine times."
"Hit's a man, Miss Dimple," she said, in an excited whisper, "with a gre't big haid an' long hair, an' somethin' on his back." Florence and Dimple looked at each other. "Let's peep and see," whispered the latter, as the rapping, which had ceased, began again. They peeped timidly through the shutters. "He looks queer," said Dimple, "maybe he is crazy."
"You mustn't worry," I answered, with all the bravery and assurance that I could muster. "Your niece will be thankful to have you with her. Is she one of Mrs. Winn's daughters?" "Oh, no, they ain't able; it's Sister Wayland's darter Isabella, that married the overseer of the gre't carriage-shop.
From the remotest beginning of things for the Southwest, Canaan had been a "gre't taown." From the beginning she had been the county seat, and from the beginning there had poured through her one long street, with its two or three short tributaries, the whole volume of business of Tigmore County; the strawberries, the chickens, the ginseng.
From Poetical I am going on to" Bruce stopped to gather strength to project the word with the large and cadenced inflection he had enjoyed in the hill farm people, "going on to Canaan!" "Gre't gosh!" said the boy, and something in the way he said it made Bruce look at him quickly. Piney's brows were lifted and his lips were pulled back.
Now de people gwine en you kyant stop dem. We knowed 'bout de prokermation ob de gre't Linkum. We know we bin free dis long time. We al'ays know you no right ter keep us slabes. Dis yer God's worl'. Hit don't 'long ter you en misus. He ain't stoppin' ter 'suit you 'bout He doin's. Ef you s'mitted ter He will you'd a gwine 'long easy lak de crops grow in spring-time.
Immediately the hill tribe had eyed him with renewed interest. "Going on to Canaan!" the farmer at their head had repeated, an impressive esteem in his treatment of the word Canaan. "Gre't taown, Canaan! You strike the relroad tha' all righty.
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