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"I was born in Russell County, Alabamy, an' can tell you 'bout my own mammy an' pappy an' sisters an' brudders. "Mammy's name was Darkis an' her Marster was John Bussey, a reg'lar old drunkard, an' my pappy's name was John Robertson an' b'longed to Dr. Robertson, a big farmer on Tombigbee river, five miles east of Columbus. De doctor hisself lived in Columbus.
He broke inter er run, 'n' I stepped over th' bars ter meet 'im, 'n' he gethered us both in his arms, like es of he'd never turn loose; then he car'ied ye up to th' house on one arm, the other one roun' my wais', 'n' he made ye say it over 'n' over 'Pappy's tumin', pappy's tumin'; 'n' Melindy 'lowed we wer' 'th' biggest pair o' geese'; but we was mighty happy geese jest th' same."
"Yes 'em, I'se de on'y one o' mammy's chillen livin. Mah, gran'ma on pappy's side, she live to be one hundred and ten yeah's ol powerful ol eve'ybody say. She were part Indian, gran' ma were, an dat made her to be ol." "Yes'em, mos' I evah earn were five dollars a week. Ah gets twenty dollars now, an pays eight dollars fo rent.
He he's been hooked. And it's his birthday. Take him, 'cause he'll die if ye don't!" Moved to a sense of pity, the light-haired woman extended two slender white hands to receive the human bundle, struggling in pain under the muffling shawl. "He's a dyin'!" gasped Scraggy. "His pappy's a hatin' him! Give him warm milk " Again the yacht's whistle shrieked hoarsely, drowning her last words.
It was after daybreak when Parker rode into the Starkweather ranch, and presented himself at the kitchen door. The night air had sobered him, but it had done nothing more. Idy was standing by the stove with her back toward him. She turned when she heard his step. "Why, Park!" she said, with a start; then she put up her hand. "Don't make a noise. Pappy's sick." He came toward her hesitatingly.
When I'se littl' I sleeped in a trun'l bed. My mammy wuz mighty 'ticlar an' clean, why she made us chilluns wash ouah feets ebry night fo' we git into de bed." "When Marse Hunt muved up to Charl'stun, my mammy and pappy liv' in log cabin." "My gran' mammy, duz I 'member hur? Honey chile, I shure duz. She wuz my pappy's mammy. She wuz one hun'erd and fo' yeahs ol' when she die rite in hur cheer.
"Yes'em, I'se de only one of mammy's chillen livin'. She had 11 chillen. Mah gran'na on pappy's side, she live to be one hundred an ten yeah's ol' powerful ol' ev'y body say, an she were part Indian, gran'ma were, an dat made her live to be ol'. "Me? I had two husband an three chillen. Mah firs' husban die an lef' me wid three little chillens, an mah secon' husban', he die 'bout six yeahs ago.
"My Pappy's old Mammy was supposed to have been sold into slavery when my Pappy was one month old and some poor white people took him ter raise. We worked for them until he was a growed up man, also 'til they give him his free papers and 'lowed him to leave the plantation and come up here to the North." "How did we live on the plantation?
When the man and the girl had gone into the Bank of Canaan, the group at the Grange stopped gambling on the incoming teams and talked less drowsily. "Looks like that girl gets purdier and purdier." "Mighty pleasant ways she keeps. Never gone back on her raisin'. Never got too good for Mizzourah." "As far as I go, I like her ways better'n her pappy's ways." "Crit is a little toploftical."
But Lordy gracious! hit do look mighty bad, with him a-buyin' all that outfit and loadin' hit in his pappy's buggy; hit do, for shore!" A half-hour later, Brother Japheth, trudging back to Deer Trace on the pike, saw the light in the long-deserted cabin back of the new foundry plant; saw this and was overtaken at the Woodlawn gates by Thomas Jefferson with Longfellow and the buggy.
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