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Updated: June 22, 2025


Aun' Sheba still laughed to herself, and remarked, "Unc., s'pose you try Missy Ella's cure?" "Wot she know 'bout it?" growled Uncle Sheba, with an injured aspect. "Wot de use ob sawin' wood all day wen de town hot 'nuff now to roas' lobsters?" "Dat min's me, Unc. Why don' you took ter some sittin' wuck like fishin' in de harbor? You mought catch a lobster, or some oder fish."

"Dar's Marse Dudley, now," said Aunt Verbeny. "I ain' so ole but my palate hit kin taste a gent'mun a mile off. Marse Dudley ain' furgit de times I'se done roas' him roas'in' years when he warn' mo'n er chile. Hit's 'how's yo' health, Aunt Verbeny? des' de same es 'twuz den." Eugenia laughed and flung the heap of garments into Delphy's arms.

"Now!" yelled Cummins again. The wilderness song, that was known from Athabasca to Hudson's Bay, burst forth in a savage enthusiasm that reached to the skies: "Oh, ze cariboo-oo-oo, ze cariboo-oo-oo, He roas' on high, Jes' under ze sky, Ze beeg white cariboo-oo-oo!" Cummins drew his revolver and blazed fiercely into the air. "Now!" he shrieked.

"Aun' Peggy heared his tale, en den sez she: "'Dat cunjuh man is mo' d'n twice't ez ole ez I is, en he kin make monst'us powe'ful goopher. W'at you needs is a life-cha'm, en I'll make you one ter-morrer; it's de on'y thing w'at'll do you any good. You leabe me a couple er ha'rs fum yo' head, en fetch me a pig ter-morrer night fer ter roas', en w'en you come I'll hab de cha'm all ready fer you.

"Yo' put yo' min' on yo' roas' lamb, honey," Calvin suggested. "How-cum you got late?" "That chile kep' me fixin' that pink dress. She ain' never cyard what she wo'. And now she stan' in front o' dat lookin'-glass an' fuss an' fiddle.

Ca'line, you teck yo' eyes off dat ar roas' pig, er I'll fling dis yer b'ilin' lard right spang on you. I ain' gwine hev none er my cookin' conjured fo' my ve'y face. Congo, you shet dat mouf er yourn, er I'll shet hit wid er flat-iron, en den hit'll be shet ter stay." Then, as Mrs.

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