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Updated: June 1, 2025
"Missis is er spilin' dese chil'en, let'n uv 'em cut up all kind er capers. Yer all better hyear me, mun. Yer better quit dem ways yer got, er runnin' off an' er gwine in de mud, an' er gittin' yer cloes tor'd, an' er gittin' me butted wid sheeps; yer better quit it, I tell yer; ef yer don't, de deb'l gwine git yer, sho's yer born."
Yer won't see no dancin' den; yer won't hyear no cussin', nor no chickens hollin' uv er night; dey won't be no reel chunes sung den; yer'll want ter go ter prayin', an' yer'll be er callin' on us wat is stedfus in de faith fur ter hep yer; but we can't hep yer den. We can't stop den.
I'm de one w'at's 'struck'n dese chil'en, done struck dey mother fuss; I'll tell 'em w'at's becomin' fur 'em ter know; I don't want 'em ter hyear nuf'n 'bout sich low cornfiel' niggers ez Club-foot Bill.
Tot was delighted, and walked very carefully with the plate until she joined the little group waiting under the window, when she called out, joyfully, "Hyear 'tis, Diddie! 'tis des de bes'es kine er dinner!" And now the trouble was how to get it up to Diddie. "I tell yer," said Chris; "me 'n Dilsey'll fotch de step-ladder wat Uncle Douglas washes de winders wid."
"No gal so hansum could be foun', Not in all dis country roun', Wid her kinky head, an' her eyes so bright, Wid her lips so red an' her teef so white. Ef it hadn't ben fur Cotton-eyed Joe, I'd been married long ergo. "An' I loved dat gal wid all my heart, An' she swo' fum me she'd never part; But den wid Joe she runned away, An' lef' me hyear fur ter weep all day.
Jes keep on, an' yer'll see wat'll happen ter yer; yer'll wake up some er deze mornins, an, yer won't have no hyear on yer head. I knowed er little gal onct wat sassed her mudder, an' de Lord he sent er angel in de night, he did, an' struck her plum' bald-headed." "You ain't none o' my mother," replied Dumps.
"Niw, you all sot down," said Uncle Rob, "an' 'have yerse'fs till I fix yer in er line." Having arranged them to his satisfaction, he delivered to them a short address, setting forth the object of the meeting, and his intentions concerning them. "Chil'en," he began, "I fotch yer hyear dis ebenin fur ter raise yer like yer ought ter be riz.
Didn't yer hyear wat he said 'bout'n de snakes' an' de folks all sez ez how ole Daddy is er trick nigger, an' dat's wat makes him don't die." "Well, I wish I was a trick nigger, then," remarked Dumps, gravely. "Lordy, Miss Dumps, yer'd better not be er talkin' like dat," said Dilsey, her eyes open wide in horror. "Hit's pow'ful wicked ter be trick niggers."
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