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Updated: June 17, 2025
"But all dat time nobody neber wush nobody else was rich, an' good, an' lubly, an' happy; fur don't yer see de birds neber sung, 'I wush you wuz, 'I wush dey had," but all de time 'I wush I wuz, 'I wush I had. At last, one day dar come inter de gyarden er po' little cripple gal, who lived 'way off in er ole tumble-down house.
Well, 'twan't long fo' de gyarden wuz plum crowded wid folks come ter wush on de stone, an' hit wuz er growin' bigger an' bigger all de time, an' mashin' de blossoms an' grass; an' dar wan't no mo' merry chil'en playin' 'mong de trees an' wadin' in de streams; no soun's ob laughin' and joy in de gyarden; eb'ybody wuz er quarlin, 'bout'n who should hab de nex' place, or wuz tryin' ter study up what dey'd wush fur; an' Cheery wuz jes ez mizer'bul as er free nigger, 'bout her gyarden.
and Chris began: "Once pun a time, 'twuz er ole Rabbit an' er ole Fox and er ole Coon: an' dey all lived close togedder; an' de ole Fox he had him er mighty fine goober-patch, w'at he nuber 'low nobody ter tech; an' one mornin' atter he git up, an' wuz er walkin' 'bout in his gyarden, he seed tracks, an' he foller de tracks, an' he see wahr sumbody ben er grabhin' uv his goobers.
His contrivances were numberless. In a corner of what he called the "back gyarden" he constructed an enclosure for chickens. He bought two or three young fowls, and by marvels of management founded a family with them. The family once founded, he made exchanges with friendly coloured matrons of the vicinity, with such results in breeding that "Uncle Matt's" chickens became celebrated fowls.
"Aunt Lucy," said Mary Ellen, "do you suppose we could ever raise a garden?" "Whut's dat, chile raise er gyarden? Kain't raise no gyarden out yer, noways." "I was just thinking may be we could have a garden, just a little one, next year." "Hit don' never rain ernuf, chile, in this yer country." "I know, but couldn't we use the water from the well?
Beyond, ez ef some uns had hidden in the bushes, right in the gyarden bed, air two little woman-like tracks en two men tracks." Whately ground his teeth and muttered an oath. "I don't s'pose I kin prove anything 'clusive," resumed Perkins, "en I don't s'pose it ud be best ef I could. Ef she was up ter such deviltry, of co'se you don't want hit gen'ly known.
"By short cuts I make it about ten miles; but the gang what works the road, calls it twelve." "Have you a farm there?" "Yes'ir. A pretty tolerable farm; a cornfield and potato patch and gyarden, and parsture for my horgs and oxin, and a slipe of woods for my pine knots." "What is your business?"
"Please ma'am, Miss Betty, don't go and leave ole mistis's gyarden tools out in no rain," he entreated, plaintively. "Oh, Eph, are they really Grandmother Nelson's?" I exclaimed, with such radiance that it reflected from Eph's polished black face. "Yes'm, and they is too good to be throwed away on playing gyarden or sich," he answered, with feeling.
"M'ria," said the blacksmith meekly to his wife, "hev ye tuk notice how the gyarden truck air a-thrivin'? 'Pears like ter me ez the peas air a-fullin' up consider'ble." And so the subject changed. He had it on his conscience, however, to explain the matter to the miller. For the second time old Bob Peachin, and the men at the mill, "laffed mightily at dad."
He called it remodelin', I ricollect, but it looked more like ruinin' to me. Old Lady Harris was like myself; she couldn't git enough of these yeller flowers. She had a double row of 'em all around her gyarden, and they'd even gone through the fence and come up in the cornfield, and who ever plowed that field had to be careful not to touch them daffydils.
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