Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 23, 2025
Now I got dese clo'es, it's come to me agin. I kin ask ye now, an' I don't want ye to 'fuse me. I want ye to let me drive my marster's body to de grave. "I held out my hand, and for an instant neither of us spoke. "'Thank ye, Sammy, was all he said." Again my companion's voice broke.
"Let me go, I say I don't want your blamed chickens; take 'em home again." "Hi! marster, I'se Mehitable. You ain't fergot how peart I use ter wuk w'en you wuz over me in ole marster's day. You know you ain' fergot Mehitable, suh. Ain't you recollect de time ole marster gimme a dollar wid his own han' caze I foun' de biggest wum in de hull 'baccy patch? Lawd! dey wuz times, sho's you bo'n.
It takes de quality to un'erstan' such things. "Right now, I loves my marster an' his wife in de grave. Dey raised me an' showed me kindness all dey lives. I was proud of 'em. At de present time I's under treatment o' young Dr. Stowers, my marster's gran'chil'. I trusts him an' he is sho' good to me. "I rents a place on Providence Plantation 'bout three miles south o' Natchez.
"Yaas, Miss Lucy. Easter's Jim hab imported dat Marse Berkeley Cyarter done recompense him on de road dis mahnin' ter know when Marster's comin' home." "Just as soon," said Miss Lucy, "as the Convention brings everybody to their senses. Three letters for Edward one in young Beaufort Porcher's writing. Now we'll hear the Charleston version probably he fired the first shot! A note for me.
"Dat time when the Yanks was goin' to Augusta, an I went to black my Marster's boot, he'd give us a two-cent peice, big as a quarter for boot blackin, I say, 'Marster who is dem soldiers? An he say to me, 'Dey's de Yankees, come to try to take you awy from me. An I say, 'Looks like to me Marster, ef'n dey wants to take us dey'd arsk you fer us. Marster laughed and say, 'Boy!
"When missus bemeaned herself to shout out at me as if I'd been a sarpint," cried Clo, viciously. "Wal, if ever I see thunder I seed it in marster's face dat ar night!" "Oh!" exclaimed Victoria, bundling up her work, "if you and Mr. Dolf has got secrets to talk ober, I'd better go 'way." "Who's a destryin' the harmony now?" shouted Clo.
When she had about finished a story about how one of the slave women, "bust de skull" of the head of her marster," 'cause she was nussin a sick baby an' he tell her she got to git out in dat field an hoe" and the gory details of what the shovel did to the white marster's head, it was time for the visitors to close the interview.
"Aunt Chloe's a berry fine woman, no doubt," observed Pomp disdainfully, "but I reckon Marse Horace ain't gwine to infide his matermonical intentions to her; and I consider it quite consequential on Marster's being young and handsome that he will take another wife."
"Where did you come from, Big Abel?" he questioned at last, speaking in a whisper. Big Abel was busily untying the sheet he had brought, and spreading out the contents upon the bed, and he did not pause as he sullenly answered: "Ole Marster's." "Who sent you?" Big Abel snorted. "Who gwine sen' me?" he demanded in his turn.
Her gayest bandanna "hankercher" covered her tightly "wropped" locks from view and the snowiest of "neckerchers" was crossed over her ample bosom. Her kind, black countenance was soft with thoughts of love. "Uncle Billy," too, was spruced for the occasion. Indeed, he was quite magnificent in a "biled shut," with ruffles, and an old dresscoat of "Marster's."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking