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Hit took 'im long up to de shoulders. Den he waded back, an' took Miss Anne up on his head an' kyar'd her right over. At fust she wuz skeered; but he tol' her he could swim an' wouldn' let her git hu't, an' den she let 'im kyar her 'cross, she hol'in' his han's. I warn' 'long dat day, but he sut'n'y did dat thing.
Yo' sha'n't whup 'im; he b'longs to me, an' ef you hit 'im another lick I'll set 'im free! "I wish yo' hed see old marster. Marse Chan he warn' mo'n eight years ole, an' dyah dey wuz-old marster stan'in' wid he whup raised up, an' Marse Chan red an' cryin', hol'in' on to it, an' sayin' I b'longst to 'im.
"He wanted to dress his wife an' chillen lak white folks, did he? Well, he foun' out, he foun' out. By de time de jedge git thoo wid him he won't be hol'in' his haid so high." "Wy, dat gal o' his'n," broke in old Isaac Brown indignantly, "w'y, she would n' speak to my gal, Minty, when she met huh on de street. I reckon she come down off'n huh high hoss now."
Don't you say no, ez ef you wasn' nevah gwine to say nothin' else. You jes' say a hol'in' off no." "I like Mr. Northcope as a friend, and my no to him will be final." The dinner did not go down very well with Mima that evening. It stopped in her throat, and when she swallowed, it brought the tears to her eyes. When it was done, she hurried away to her room.
"W'en ole Brer Wolf got dar, w'ich he come er scootin', dar wuz Brer Rabbit hol'in' on ter de cow-tail, fer ter keep it fum gwine in de groun'. Brer Wolf, he kotch holt, en dey 'gin a pull er two en up come de tail. Den Brer Rabbit, he wink his off eye en say, sezee: "'Dar! de tail done pull out en de cow gone, sezee.
"Well, ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin, he ra'd an' he pitch'd. He said he wan' too ole, an' he'd show 'im so. "'Ve'y well, says Marse Chan. "De meetin' broke up den. I wuz hol'in' de hosses out dyar in de road by dee een' o' de poach, an' I see Marse Chan talkin' an' talkin' to Mr. Gordon an' anudder gent'man, and den he come out an' got on de sorrel an' galloped off.
Hyah, hyah, I ain't bin much on hol'in' de reins sence. "Sh! dey comin' in to wa'm up. Dat Jim, dat Jim, dat my boy; you nasty putrid little rascal. Des a hundred an' eight, suh, des a hundred an' eight. Yas, suh, dat's my Jim; I don't know whaih he gits his dev'ment at. "What's de mattah wid dat boy? Whyn't he hunch hisse'f up on dat saddle right?
Hit took 'im long up to de shoulders. Den he waded back, an' took Miss Anne up on his head an' kyared her right over. At fust she wuz skeered; but he tol' her he could swim an' wouldn' let her git hu't, an' den she let 'im kyar her 'cross, she hol'in' his han's. I warn' 'long dat day, but he sut'n'y did dat thing.
Yo' sha'n't whop 'im; he b'longs to me, an' ef you hit 'im another lick I'll set 'im free! "I wish yo' hed see ole marster. Marse Chan he warn' mo'n eight years ole, an' dyah dey wuz ole marster stan'in' wid he whop raised up, an' Marse Chan red an' cryin', hol'in' on to it, an' sayin' I b'longst to 'im.
"Well, ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin, he ra'ed an' he pitch'd. He said he wan' too ole, an' he'd show 'im so. "'Ve'y well, says Marse Chan. "De meetin' broke up den. I wuz hol'in de hosses out dyar in de road by de een' o' de poach, an' I see Marse Chan talkin' an' talkin' to Mr. Gordon an' anudder gent'man, an' den he come out an' got on de sorrel an' galloped off.
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