Isaac Stier, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County FEC Edith Wyatt Moore Rewrite, Pauline Loveless Edited, Clara E. Stokes ISAAC STIER Natchez, Mississippi "Miss, my name is Isaac Stier, but folks calls me 'Ike. I was named by my pappy's young Marster an' I aint never tol' nobody all o' dat name. It's got twenty-two letters in it. It's wrote but in de fam'ly Bible.
She returned in a moment, followed by Rena. "Mr. Wain, 'low me to int'oduce you to my daughter Rena. Rena, this is Ma'y B.'s cousin on her pappy's side, who's come up from Sampson to git a school-teacher." Rena bowed gracefully. Wain stared a moment in genuine astonishment, and then bent himself nearly double, keeping his eyes fixed meanwhile upon Rena's face.
"'Hell! says Micky. 'Do they think I'm a stiff? "'Sh-h-h! says the sister that's nursin' him. "I don't see Hamilton fur a month. One day I goes over to the big Eastern sale at New York, just to hear ole Pappy Danforth sell 'em. Pappy's stood on a block all his life. He knows every hoss-man in the country. When he tells you about a hoss, it's right; 'n' everybody takes his tip.
One day during Rowlett's absence Parish met young Pete Doane tramping along the highway and drew him into conversation. "Pete," he suggested, "I reckon ye appreciates ther fact thet yore pappy's a mouty oncommon sort of man, don't ye?" The young mountaineer nodded his head, wondering a little at what the other was driving. "Folks leans on him an' trusts him," went on Thornton, reflectively.
People will not understand how Joe Johnson, outlaw as he is, dared to rob a Maryland judge of his house servants, Johnson himself bein' a Marylander, unless they had some understanding. Your sudden marriage, an' your pappy's embarrassments, will be put together, by smoke! an' thar is some blunt enough to say that when Jedge Custis is hard up, he'll git money anyhow!"
I tuck ye in my arms 'n' went down ter th' bars, where I allers stood ter watch fer 'im; he come in er boat ter th' little landin' 'n' walked home, erbout er mile; 'n' when I seed 'im comin', 'n' he'd got nigh ernuff, I whispered ter ye, 'n' ye clapped yer little han's, 'n' fairly shouted out, 'Pappy's tumin'! pappy's tumin'! Dearie me, dearie me; I kin see 'im now so plain!
Pappy's drunk again, an' throwin' things around the house just awful. He can't mortgage the farm for any more, an' the storekeeper in town says he's goin' to sue him for what he owes, an' he's got drunk to forget it, I reckon. I can't work out this old thing in long division, anyway, Miss Jane, let alone when he's throwin' things!"
"They'd be too short. They wouldn't be NEAR long enough!" "Then neither would mine," said Sam promptly. "Herman's would," said Penrod. "No, suh!" Herman had recently been promoted to long trousers, and he expressed a strong disinclination to fall in with Penrod's idea. "My Mammy sit up late nights sewin' on 'ese britches fer me, makin' 'em outen of a pair o' pappy's, an' they mighty good britches.
But I reckon the first payment comes to you. You've a right to it, an' I'll stay here till you get all the revenge you want!" "Don't," she whispered huskily. "Don't talk to me! I don't know what I've done!" "You've done," he answered for her, "just what yoh Pappy's been callin' on you to do; just as I did once what my Granny called on me to do. I reckon we're quits, now!"
"My pappy's name was Steve Hutchins. He b'long to de Hutchins what live down near Silver Creek. He jus' come on Satu'd'y night an' us don' see much of 'im. Us call him 'dat man. Mammy tol' us to be more 'spectful to 'im 'cause he was us daddy, but us aint care nothin' 'bout 'im. He aint never brung us no candy or nothin'. "My mammy was name Lucy Berry.