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Updated: May 2, 2025
A faint tingle filtered through Peter's throat and chest, but he asked casually enough what she had said. "Didn' say; she wrote." Peter looked around, frankly astonished. "Wrote?" "Yeah; co'se she wrote." "What made her write?" a fantasy of Ida May dumb flickered before the mulatto. "Why, Ida May's in Nashville." Caroline looked at Peter. "She wrote to Cissie, astin' 'bout you.
"Ranaway, Dick, about 19, has lost the small toe of one foot." Mr. "Stolen a mulatto boy, ten years old, he has a scar over his eye which was made by an axe." Mr. Richard Overstreet, Brook Neal, Campbell Co. "Absconded my negro man Coleman, has a very large scar on one of his legs, also one on each arm, by a burn, and his heels have been frosted."
At the top of the stairs, a coloured washerwoman, accompanied by a bright mulatto boy, who carried an empty clothes basket on his head, waited humbly in the shadow for the two men to pass. She was a dark glistening creature, with ox-like eyes, and the remains of a handsome figure, now running to fat.
Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking.
With a mountain and river scenery unrivalled on the globe; with rock-bound coasts breaking the full surge of an ocean; with forests of towering trees compared to which in girth and height the trees of all other lands are but toothpicks; with plains ending in films of blue haze and valleys sparkling with myriads of waterfalls; with every type of the human race blended in our own, or distinct as are the woodman of Maine and the soft-eyed mulatto of Louisiana; with a history filled with traditions most romantic Aztec, Indian, and negro; with women who move like Greek goddesses and children whose faces are divine, why go away from home to find something to paint?
As the doctors were leaving, under guise of giving a few words of instruction to Myra, the mulatto girl, they whispered hurriedly in her ear. "I understand," she answered, with a nod of her head. "Nothing shall escape my eye."
One of the greatest Generals of the day, considering the environment, was Antonio Maceo, the Cuban mulatto hero, who, for two years, kept the Spanish army at bay or led them a lively quickstep through the western provinces to the very gates of Havana.
On the following day a mulatto boy who looked after the flock and went on errands for the Alcalde, came to me and said that if I would mount my pony and go with him he would show me something. It was not seldom this same little fellow came to me to offer to show me something, and it usually turned out to be a bird's nest, an object which keenly interested us both.
Cleveland looked at him for a moment with some curiosity, then called: "Philip!" He was answered by a young mulatto a tall, good-looking fellow, who approached with a mixed air of equal deference and self-esteem, plaited frills to a most immaculately white shirt-collar, a huge bulbous breastpin in his bosom, chains and seals, and all the usual equipments of Broadway dandyism.
But a change had already come over her companion. It was no longer a parley with a foolish woman; he had to deal with a man like himself. As Low's dark face and picturesque figure came nearer, Mr. Curson's proposed method of dealing with him was made audible. "Ith it a mulatto or a Thircuth, or both?" he asked, with affected anxiety. Low's Indian phlegm was impervious to such assault.
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