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Updated: July 1, 2025
Dey sed he used ter say ez how he wasn't gwine ter hey his niggers mixed up wid nobody else's namin', an' he wouldn't no mo' 'low ob one black feller callin' ob anudder by enny nickname ner nothin' ub dat kine, on one o' his plantations, dan he would ob his takin' a mule, nary bit.
It was queer, though, hitting on the right name in that way. "There! there! Yes, I am Emmeline, though I might've been Sophia or Debby Jane! Namin' people is sort o' accidental. I always wished they'd named me somethin' prettier by accident! But I guess Emmeline will have to do." It was long after this before any explanation was made. The fact that it was Emmeline was enough for those first hours.
Josiah came in pretty soon, and when I told him about it he acted real huffy and agreed with Jane Olive, and resented the idee of a Home for Fallen Men. Blandina, who come while we wuz talkin' about it to borry a few needlefuls of white thread, she shed tears and said she wouldn't mortify men by namin' a home like that for thousands of worlds like this.
Don't you stick to any foolish notions about bein' faithful to the party; it ain't the party that needs helpin'. No matter how you got where you are, you're Governor of the State right now, John, and your first duty is to the people of this State, not to Tom Styles or anybody else. Just you remember that when you're namin' your Senator in the morning." It was long before the Governor retired.
Here goes again: '1 sofa; 1 armchair; 4 fine chairs with green cloth seats; 1 bedstead; 2 cots; 1 cradle; feather beds and palliasses and bolster pillows to match; wash-stands and sets of crockery, mostly complete; 2 swing glasses; 3 bedroom chairs; 1 set of breeching harness " "Hadn't 'e better put that away from the furniture?" "No gert odds. "Ban't worn worth namin'."
Price has been chopping wood, pausing occasionally to stare off through the purple haze at the south shoulder of Coniston Mountain. "How be you, Jethro?" says Mr. Price, nasally. "D-Democrats are talkin' some of namin' you Moderator next meetin'," says the man in the coonskin cap. "Want to know!" ejaculates Mr. Price, dropping the axe and straightening up in amazement. For Mr.
Price has been chopping wood, pausing occasionally to stare off through the purple haze at the south shoulder of Coniston Mountain. "How be you, Jethro?" says Mr. Price, nasally. "D-Democrats are talkin' some of namin' you Moderator next meetin'," says the man in the coonskin cap. "Want to know!" ejaculates Mr. Price, dropping the axe and straightening up in amazement. For Mr.
"Wall, thar' now," said Grandma; "you'll never git through namin' on 'em, pa, if you stop to talk about 'em." "Yis, yis," continued Grandpa, hopelessly confused, and showing dark symptoms of smouldering wrath; "there was Bartholomew. That makes a, le' me see, Bartholomew, " "How many Bartholomews was there?" inquired Grandma, with pitiless coolness of demeanor.
It looked so harried. "I always say," Aunt Mollie droned on, "a person shows up what he really is at the last what him and his family stands fur. It's what kind of a funeral you've got that counts who comes out an' all. An' that was true with Matty. There wa'n't a soul worth namin' that wasn't out to hers." How Aunt Molly could gouge even amicably! And funerals!
I have a gr-reat rayspict f'r the sages an' I believe in namin' sthreets an' public schools afther thim.
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