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Updated: June 17, 2025
The barber paused, snapping his scissors and nodding. "Bussa was right then, or Bussa and Philp between 'em." "Hey?" "'Tis wonderful how news gets abroad in Troy. . . . 'Hunken, now? And where might he be one of? I don't seem to fit the name in my mem'ry at all." "You wouldn't. He comes from t'other side of the Duchy a Padstow-born man, and he've never set eyes on Troy in his life."
"'Thar's better sports than you-all slept on them plains, says the soopercilious gent. "Meanwhile, thar's a move or two, speshully the way he bats his eyes, about this soopercilious gent that sets Bill to rummagin' 'round in his mem'ry. At last he asks: "'Is your name Rawlins? "'Yes, sir, my name's Rawlins, says the soopercilious gent. "'Jim Rawlins of Roanoke?
But the way these yere European shorthorns fixes it, a gent shorely runs a heap more resk of becomin' a angel abrupt, attendin' of a Texas cake-walk in a purely social way. "Do they ever fight dooels in the West? Why, yes some. My mem'ry comes a-canterin' up right now with the details of an encounter I once beholds in Wolfville. Thar ain't no time much throwed away with a dooel in the Southwest.
I've been to Stratford onto the Avon, the Birthplace of Shakspeare. Mr. S. is now no more. He's been dead over three hundred years. The peple of his native town are justly proud of him. They cherish his mem'ry, and them as sell pictures of his birthplace, &c., make it prof'tible cherishin it. Almost everybody buys a pictur to put into their Albiom.
She listens to what little thar is to tell of Spencer fadin' from our midst that Plaza Perdita day, shrugs her shoulders, an' turns her back on Spencer's mem'ry.
Chenoweth's remarks, catching fragments here and there: "And may the blush upon that gentle cheek, lovelier than the radiant clouds at set of sun," and "Yet the sands of the hour-glass must fall, and in the calm and beauteous old age some day to be her lot, when fond mem'ry leads her back to view again the brilliant scene about her now, where stand 'fair women and brave men, winecup in hand to do her honor, oh, may she wipe the silent tear", and the like.
Captain Jerry stood stock-still, and if ever a face expressed complete amazement, it was his. "Elsie Preston!" he ejaculated, "are you losin' your mem'ry or what? Didn't you pitch into me hot-foot for lettin' him be alone with you? Didn't you give me 'hark from the tomb' for gittin' up and goin' away?
An' a heap er rispec' you is got fer de mem'ry er my po' dead sister! "Mars Sam knowed w'at she 'lowed she seed wa'n't so; but he didn' let on, fer it only made him de safer. He wuz willin' fer her ter 'magine w'at she please', jes' so long ez she kep' out er his house an' let him alone.
I gets 'em from my grandfather, as tall a sport an' as high- rollin' a statesman as ever packs a bowie or wins the beef at a shootin' match in old Kaintucky. Yes, sir, says the Colonel, an thar's a pensive look in his eyes like he's countin' up that ancestor's merits in his mem'ry; 'pol'tics with me that-away is shore congenital.
I wa'n't mo' 'n ten years ole at de time, an' w'en my mammy seed de w'ite men comin', she tol' me ter run. I hid in de bushes an' seen de whole thing, an' it wuz branded on my mem'ry, suh, like a red-hot iron bran's de skin. De w'ite folks had masks on, but one of 'em fell off, he wuz de boss, he wuz de head man, an' tol' de res' w'at ter do, an' I seen his face.
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