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As for Prince Lef Nicolaievitch himself, Prince S. did not seem quite to like him, somehow. He was decidedly preoccupied and a little disturbed as they all started off. Evgenie Pavlovitch seemed to be in a lively humour.
Bime by, when I got big enough to read, I got a lot o' my eddication from dose cases, yes, Sah! "This hyar story begins dis way. On July 3, 1799 I remember de dates persackly a brig, called de Nancy, lef' Baltimore for Curacao. Her owners were Germans, but 'Merican citizens, yes, Sah.
I run after 'im there wasn't nobody there. When I come back the tripe was burnt an' I lef' it on the fire an' run away, thet minute. They owed me wages, but I didn't stop for nothink. I was frightened. I got a place afterwards up Islington, three ol' sisters, kep' a fancy shop, fought with each other every minute of their lives.
Claudia Merlin!" exclaimed the judge, in a voice of thunder, as he started to his feet and stood staring at the speaker. "Oh, ole marse, for de Lord's sake, don't! You scare away all de little sense dem debbils has lef' me!" cried Katie, shuddering. "His wretched lackey!" vociferated the judge.
Marse Greer had done sunk all de silver in de duck pond an' hid out de horses an' cows in de big cane-brake what used to be on dis side o' Sowashee Creek. But, Lor!, it didn' do no good. Sherman done caught on by dat time 'bout how to fin' things. Dey got ever'thing an' burned Marse Greer's barn. Day lef' de house an' didn' bother de fam'ly 'cause dey called deyse'fs company.
I was loath to do ut, but I wint round an' swung into the jaw side-on an' shifted ut a half pace to the lef'. "'Will ye hear reason now? sez I; 'I can't keep my timper much longer, an 'tis like I will hurt you. "'Not whoile I can stand, he mumbles out av one corner av his mouth. So I closed an' threw him blind, dumb, an' sick, an' jammed the jaw straight.
He challenged Marse Chan to fight a duil, an' Marse Chan he excepted de challenge, an' dey wuz gwine fight; but some on 'em tole 'im Marse Chan wan' gwine mek a present o' him to his fam'ly, an' he got somebody to bre'k up de duil; 'twan' nuthin' dough, but he wuz 'fred to fight Marse Chan. An' purty soon he lef' de comp'ny.
For me, won't you all join in an old-fashioned square dance? And Mr. Dyer will call." She had a record on the phonograph; Dave Dyer was capering in the center of the floor, loose-jointed, lean, small, rusty headed, pointed of nose, clapping his hands and shouting, "Swing y' pardners alamun lef!"
"Our virtue is all we po' fo'ks has got if we lose that we ain't got nothin' lef'," Mrs. Banks of grass-widow fame had once said, and saying it had expressed Cottontown's opinion. Mrs. Banks was very severe when the question of woman's purity was up. She was the fastest woman at the loom in all Cottontown. She was quick, with a bright, deep-seeing eye.
Dey wa'n't much er de ham lef' by dat time, fer de sun had melt all de fat, en de lean had all swivel' up, so dey wa'n't but th'ee er fo' poun's lef'. "W'en de ham had be'n tuk off'n Dave, folks kinder stopped talkin' 'bout 'im so much. But de ham had be'n on his neck so long dat Dave had sorter got use' ter it.
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