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If I was waiting at a landing I would post some old "nig" what to say when I went on board, so while the passengers were all out on the guards and I was bidding the "coons" good-bye, my "nig" would cry out: "Good-bye, Massa George; I's goin' to take good care of the old plantation till you comes back."

"I's got lost in de swamp, boss, 'deedy I has, an' I smelled de vittals a-cookin', so's I couldn't keep away. Didn't mean to skeer yuh, suah I didn't. Yuh wouldn't hurt a pore ole brack man, would yuh, little marse?" he droned, still keeping his eyes fastened apprehensively on Frank and his gun. "I guess it's a fairy story he's putting up, Frank. They told me about him up at the town.

Jim he didn't quite like that arrangement. He says: "Course I's de stronges', en I's willin' to do a share accordin', but by jings you's kinder pilin' it onto ole Jim, Mars Tom, hain't you?" "Well, I didn't think so, Jim, but you try your hand at fixing it, and let's see." So Jim reckoned it wouldn't be no more than fair if me and Tom done a TENTH apiece.

He tried to order the man out, but the words refused to come, and the other man got the start. He said, in a low voice: "Keep still I's yo' mother!" Tom sunk in a heap on a chair, and gasped out: "It was mean of me, and base I know it; but I meant it for the best, I did indeed I can swear it."

In a private meeting of some principal barons at London, he showed them a copy of Henry I's charter, which, he said, he had happily found in a monastery; and he exhorted them to insist on the renewal and observance of it. The barons swore that they would sooner lose their lives than depart from so reasonable a demand.

"Monsieur de Montpavon marche a la mort," and the creator of that unlucky gentilhomme follows with stealthy footsteps, with wide eyes, with an impressively pointing finger. And who wouldn't look? But it is hard; it is sometimes very hard to forgive him the dotted i's, the pointing finger, this making plain of obvious mysteries.

"Then poor little Reddie Bear bawled out as loud as he could, 'Pa! Pa! Oh, pa, come back! I's me, pa; come back!" "And Uncle Brownwood stopped in his tracks and whirled around and said, in an awful voice, 'You, Redfield! for he thought Reddie was playing a joke on him, and he was mad clear through.

After that I saw Chloe's troubled black face written on my vision, and felt dripping drops about my head. "'There, Miss Lettie, it's all over, now. I's so glad you're come to! I won't bother you with reading anymore letters. It would have to be much good in it that 'ud pay me for seeing you so. "I was sitting in the arbor a little later, alone, reading the letter.

"Oomph," said the old man, "reckon you bettah let Jim alone twell dem sins o' his'n git him to tossin' an' cryin' an' a mou'nin'. Den'll be time enough to strive wid him. I's allus willin' to do my pa't, Mas' Stuart, but w'en hit comes to ol' time sinnahs lak Jim, I believe in layin' off, an' lettin' de sperit do de strivin'."

What distaste, too, we had for all the old Romans who had bequeathed their language to us; just as if English wasn't ten times better, Mercer used to say. "Bother their old declensions and conjugations!" he would cry. "What's the good of them all? I call it a stupid language to have no proper prepositions and articles and the rest of it: tucking i's, a's, and e's at the end of words instead."