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Updated: May 1, 2025
"Go on erlong wid yo'," say he ma, right commandin'. "I ain't want to go," say Mose ag'in. "Why ain't yo' want to go?" he ma ask. "'Ca'se I's afraid ob de ghosts," say li'l black Mose, an' dat de particular truth an' no mistake. "Dey ain't no ghosts," say de school-teacher, whut board at Unc' Silas Diggs's house, right peart.
He wuz er ole nigger, er de color er a gingy-cake, en ball ez a hoss-apple on de top er his head. He wuz a peart ole nigger, do', en could do a big day's wuk.
Just put confidence in me, and when I get over my head, I'll holler for help. I judge I can put five good years' work on you without exhausting my stores. I can read amongst the small words pretty peart the young calves, so to say and lots of them big steers in three or four syllables, I can sort o' guess at their road-brands from the company I've saw 'em traveling with, in times past.
She got up before day, mother did, and stuffed me for an hour or more. Blamed if a peart youngster didn't yell, 'Hi, there, sausage, as I come in town. Now, I'm blowed if I know what this is. Yes, sir, it's a pair of socks, knit under the light of a tallow candle without the drappin' of a stitch.
I got a kinda misery in my laigs from trompin' these hyer streets. My feet are plumb burnin' up. You didn't answer my letters, so I come to see if you was all right." "You old scalawag. You came to paint the town red." Johnnie, highly delighted at this charge, protested. "Honest I didn't, Clay. I wasn't feelin' so tur'ble peart. Seemed like the boys picked on me after you left.
Every time I passed I'd look in at the bunnies, an' each time I seen signs that some tarnal varmint had been prowlin' round. One day I missed a bunny, an' next day another; so on until only one was left, a peart white and gray little scamp. Somethin' was stealin' of 'em, an' it made me mad. So yistidday an' to-day I watched, an' finally I plugged this black thief.
"Why," says the Colonel, "he's a young man yet, your uncle, only fifty-three. I've known older fools than he to go and do it. Eh, Ned?" "Yes, marsa. Yes, suh. I've seed 'em at seventy, an' shufflin' about peart as Marse Clarence's gamecocks. Why, dar was old Marse Ludlow " "Now, Mister Johnson," Virginia put in severely, "no more about old Ludlow."
"Miss Daisy aint lookin' quite so peart as she use to look," Maria went on. But I slipped away from that diversion. "Maria," I said, "you don't tell me what is the matter; and I wish to know. What keeps the people, Pete, and Eliza and all, from coming? What hinders them, Maria? I wish to know."
She said in a deep voice, as she brandished them at May Lilly, "With my two long speahs I'll poke yo' eyeballs through yo' yeahs." The little darky fell back giggling. "That sut'n'y was like a billy-goat. We had one once that 'ud make a body step around mighty peart. It slip up behine me one mawnin' on the poach, an' fo' awhile I thought my haid was buss open suah.
They said to each other that he was a "peart boy an' powerful good ter the t'other chill'en, an' holped the fambly along ez well ez a man better'n thar dad ever done;" for Birt's father had been characterized always as "slack-twisted an' onlucky." The shadows dwindled on the tan. The winds had furled their wings. White clouds rose, dazzling, opaque, up to the blue zenith.
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