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Updated: June 26, 2025
"Not likely to hurt him," said Tom. "More likely, sir. Trousers are thin, 'specially hisn, and they've got some good holes in 'em generally, where you might reach his skin; 'sides, you're not likely to cut his face or injure his eyes. Nothing like hitting low.
I'm sick an' tired o' this everlastin' tail-switchin' an' wickerin' abaout one State er another. A horse kin be proud o' his State, an' swap lies abaout it in stall or when he's hitched to a block, ef he keers to put in fly-time that way; but he hain't no right to let that pride o' hisn interfere with his work, ner to make it an excuse fer claimin' he's different.
"The Yankees done kill him jes' look at that hand of hisn and now you rebels done pester him plum to death." "Go 'long now, Uncle Morris. We aint worrying on him and he will tell you so," replied Hawkins good-naturedly. "But our critter-fellers are round picking up all the darkies they can find and making soldiers of 'em, and you had best watch out.
"On a v'y'ge," replied Cap'n Amazon. "Why shouldn't he? Seems he's been lashed here, tight and fast, for c'nsider'ble of a spell. He and this store of hisn was nigh 'bout spliced. I don't see how he has weathered it so long." "Gone away!" murmured Lawford. Cap'n Amazon eyed him with a tilt to his head and possibly a twinkle of amusement in his eye. "Young man, what's your name?" he asked bluntly.
"What fur sermont did yous have this morning?" asked Mr. Wackernagel, his mouth full of chicken. "We had Levi Harnish. He preached good," said Mrs. Wackernagel. "Ain't he did, Tillie?" "Yes," replied Tillie, coloring with the guilty consciousness that scarcely a word of that sermon had she heard. "I like to hear a sermont, like hisn, that does me good to my heart," said Mrs. Wackernagel.
He tells me Alan and that little girl of hisn that stuck to him and stood up for him through thick and thin 're goin' to be married at Christmas time." "Then they'll be leavin', too," she said.
They ain't never been explored, nor nothin', an' they're hisn. An' he won't let you forget it. He's got about twenty thousand square miles of huntin' country here all his own. He's the white Indian, him an' the skirt. Huh! Don't look at me that way. Wait till you see her. Some looker, an' all white, like her dad he's Whiskers. An' say, caribou! I've saw 'em.
"I have been to see my wife, She's the joy of my life, She's a young thing, and cannot leave her mother!" "Thought Bill had got too proud t' sing that song uh hisn," the cook yelled facetiously to the riders who were nearest. "I was lookin' for him to bust out in grand-opry, or something else that's a heap more stylish than his old come-all-ye."
Well, there were some trees hung over the fence, I never seed such bearers, the apples hung in ropes, for all the world like strings of onions, and the fruit was beautiful. Nobody touched the minister's apples, and when other folks lost theirn from the boys, hisn always hung there like bait to a hook, but there never was so much as a nibble at em.
His jaw shet with a click like he'd cocked a pistol, an' that look o' hisn, like he was a seein' plumb through you, come int' his eyes, an' he says, says he, quiet like, 'D' you reckon that rain over on James yesterday raised th' river much? An' 'fore I knowed it, I was a tellin' him how that ol' red bull o' mine treed th' Perkins' boys when they was a possum huntin'."
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