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Updated: June 27, 2025
Jarvis tried to git 'im to quit when he married in the family said he didn't want his daddy-in-law drawin' pay by the month but Tom had got interested in the work and hung on. He's turned out to be an A1 manager, I tell you. He knows what's what in plantin', an' makes his men move like clockwork from sun-up to sun-down." "And George and his wife?" Mostyn inquired. "Are they doing well?"
I'd made up my mind already to chuck that, and go in for plantin' sugar, when I ran across the skipper. Wonderful chap, the skipper! I'll go and tell him. He's been out all night; only came aboard at four bells; having a nap now, but he won't mind that for you." Off he went.
"A couple of huts in there, but no place for you girls to go visitin'," he finished, as if divining the plan already shaping itself in the minds of Grace and Cleo a trip to Looney Land. "Why Looney Land?" asked Cleo. "Queer folks out there?" "Dunno as any folks is out there, but places get named somehow, just like they get trees, no plantin' just come that way.
"I al'ays stick to plantin' yo' corn when the hickory leaf's as big as a squirrel's ear. If you don't, the luck's agin you." "An' whar thar's growin' corn thar's a sight o' hoein'," put in an alert, nervous-looking countryman. "If I lay my hoe down for a spell, the weeds git so big I can't find the crop."
He got trouble, po' gen'elman; he sorry to sell Sibyl; he give me silver dollar dat day, an' feel bad. 'Neber min', I say. I get good mistis, young mistis at Sydenham. I like her well, I did so. I pick my two hunderd poun' all days, an' I ain't whipped. Too bad sold me, po' Mars' Middleton, but he in trouble. He done come see me last plantin'," Sibyl went on proudly.
Whin me forefathers were followin' George Wash'nton an' sufferin' all th' hardships that men endure campin' out in vacation time, what were th' women doin'? They were back in Matsachoosetts milkin' th' cow, mendin' socks, followin' th' plow, plantin' corn, keepin' store, shoein' horses, an' pursooin' th' other frivvlous follies iv th' fair but fickle sect.
In an epistle to his friend Betton, high sheriff of the county, who had sent to him for a peck of seed corn, he says: "Soon plantin' time will come again, Syne may the heavens gie us rain, An' shining heat to bless ilk plain An' fertile hill, An' gar the loads o' yellow grain, Our garrets fill.
He jumps in an' gives them ceremonies a scientific whirl as ain't possible nohow to amatures. All 'round we wouldn't have put on more dog if we'd been plantin' Enright; all of course on the little Sue girl's account. Next day the outfit goes over to find out whatever she allows to do. "'You sees, Miss; says Enright, 'anythin' you says, goes.
Good plantin' weather; good weather for breakin' ground; fust-rate weather for millin'! This is a reg'lar miller's rain, Uncle Tommy. You'd ought to be takin' advantage of it. I've got a grist back here; wish ye could manage to let me have it when I come back from store." The grist was ground and delivered before Friend Barton went in to his supper that night.
"I don't care to talk here," observed Storri, glancing suspiciously at the walls within touch of his hand. "Let us go outside." "That's it," observed London Bill; "now if we was to go plantin' ourselves in Union Square, or any little open-air place like that, it's ten to one some Bull from the Central Office would come along an' spot us. They're onto my mug; got it in the gallery in fact."
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