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Updated: May 14, 2025
Hit'll be a long try, 'cause I can't buy mine so cheap as I got yo's, dough de Lawd knows why a great big ol' hunk lak me should cos' mo'n a precious mossell lak you." "Hit's because dey's so much of you, Ben, an' evah bit of you's wo'th its weight in gol'." "Heish, chile! Don' put my valy so high, er I'll be twell jedgment day a-payin' hit off."
"If we take this path through the woods t' the left hit'll bring us out whar yo' kin see Goober Crick for sartin, an' no mistake. Hit's allers above high-water thar." The boys followed. A very short walk through a curtain of deep woods brought them on to much higher ground, where Goober Creek roared through a narrow channel it had cut in the rocks.
Hand me that line an' I'll tie yo' to them stakes. Betteh throw the stern anchor over, fo' this yeah's a shallows, an' the riveh's eddyin', an' if hit don't go up hit'll go down, an' " "Theh's a head rise coming out the Ohio," someone said. "Yo' won't need no anchor over the stern!" "Sho! I'm glad to see yo'!" Mrs.
"You wait 'n see, then. Ah reckon hit'll be a surprise party fo' you as well as a poke party." It was clear that Melissa had imparted to her friends the Baron's guess as to the probable nature of a poke party, for he was greeted with broad smiles as he made his way through the crowd of men and boys about Mrs. Lance's door into the room where dancing was going on.
I hain't goin' ter suffer nobody ter do that but thar's a thing I may need ye ter do." "Es God's lookin' down on us, ef a man kin do hit " he swore in an emotion-shaken voice, "hit'll be done." Later that evening Alexander announced her decision and from it she refused to depart.
"Now, miss," said sensible Mrs. Wheaton, "I don't vant to do hany more than yer vants done, but hif I was you I'd give hall these 'ere vails a coat hof lime. Vitevash is 'olesome, yer know, and sweetens heverything; hit'll kind o' take haway the nasty taste those drunken people left." "Please whitewash, then, and use plenty of lime.
"Well, now, honey, you hab 'lieve yo' min', en I specs you feel bettah. You mus' des promis yo' ole mammy dat you be keerful en not rile up ole mars'r, kase hit'll ony be harder fer you. I'se ole, en I knows tings do hap'n dough dey of'un come slowlike. You des gwine troo de woods now, en kyant see fur; bimeby you come ter a clearin'. Dat boy ob mine be comin' soon fer his pone en bacon.
"Hit'll 'elp you keep dry, sir," holding up the garment. Swathed in its folds, Madden made a new start and walked out on the heaving, shifting pontoon. Outside a renewed noise smote his ears. The air was full of flying spume that whipped in through the stern of the dock.
His face was tense, and his eyes were glinting with purpose. His lips were tight set and fanatical. "Samson," said the girl, reaching out and taking the weapon from his hands, "ef I'm alive when ye comes, I'll do hit. I promises ye. An'," she added, "ef I hain't alive, hit'll be standin' thar in thet corner. I'll grease hit, an' keep hit loaded, an' when ye calls, I'll fotch hit out thar to ye."
THE deacon of a colored church met Uncle Remus recently, and, after some uninteresting remarks about the weather, asked: "How dis you don't come down ter chu'ch no mo', Brer Remus? We er bin er havin' some mighty 'freshen' times lately." "Hit's bin a long time sence I bin down dar, Brer Rastus, an' hit'll be longer. I done got my dose." "You ain't done gone an' unjined, is you, Brer Remus?"
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