United States or Aruba ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"BRER REMUS, is you heern tell er deze doin's out yer in de udder eend er town?" asked a colored deacon of the church the other day. "W'at doin's is dat, Brer Ab?" "Deze yer signs an' wunders whar dat cullud lady died day 'fo' yistiddy. Mighty quare goin's on out dar, Brer Remus, sho's you bawn." "Sperrits?" inquired Uncle Remus, sententiously. "Wuss'n dat, Brer Remus.
Lately he was gaining some reputation as a political boss. "Hit do beat all," Barnaby repeated, shaking his heavy head reflectively, and making a grimace both comical and hideous. "Dat young man desput sma't and cunnin', sho's yo' bo'n he is. He done been foolin' wid dem niggahs a'ready."
"Marse Rupert," he said, "dis hyer's a pow'fle scorcher of a mawnin'. Dem young lawyers as shets up dey office an' comes home to lie in de grass in de shade, dey is follerin' up dey perfession in de profitablest way what'll be likely to bring 'em de mos' clients, 'cause, sho's yo' bawn, dere's sunstroke an' 'cussion or de brain just lopin' roun' dis town en a little hot brick office ain't no place for a young man what got any dispect fur his next birfday.
Now, you needn't hurry, Ed, about gettin' around hyah next season, suh, because, sho's yo' bawn, upon the wo'd of a Southern gentleman, suh, yo' shall have my business." "You sold him next time?" asked one of the boys. "You bet your life I did," said Ed. "That man's word was good." "He was a splendid old gentleman," spoke up another one of the boys.
It's like a hive of bees: you give it a little poke to start it, an' the first thing you know it's swarmin' all over both yo' hands. It's a skeery thing, suh, an' Bill Fletcher's got his share of it, sho's you're born." "It has its way with him pretty thoroughly, I think," responded Tucker, chuckling; "but if I were you, Christopher, I'd stick up for my rights in that old field.
"You're right," replied Dan idly, filling his pipe and lighting it with a small red ember, "and all things considered, I don't think I'll raise any racket about that middling, Big Abel." "Hit ain' all nigger food, no how," added Big Abel reflectively, "caze de 'ooman she done steal it f'om w'ite folks sho's you bo'n."
"Lawd, Miss Euginny, dis yer ain' gwineter hu't you. Hit ain' nuttin but ker'sene oil nohow. Miss Sally Burwell des let me souse her haid in it de udder day. Hit'll keep you f'om gittin' gray, sho's I live." "You shan't touch me with it, Delphy. And you ought to be ashamed I haven't a gray hair. Have I, Dudley?"
Brent cared little what took place if four o'clock would hurry around. Yet each shared in a vague apprehension for the mountaineer who, Zack told them, had not returned. "He may have walked over to Bob's," the Colonel suggested, and the simple hearted servant, seeing his old master's distress of mind, unhesitatingly declared: "Dat's jest whar he done gwine, Marse John, sho's youse bawned!"
Den yo' take one side to Aunt Maria an' be mighty perlite." Lijah, he don' like dis nohow, but he done what his wife tole him. He tote dat side of hawg to Aunt Maria, an' she smile wicked when she see him comin'. "I brung yo' a side of nice hawg what I jes' kill't," says he perlite. "I sho's mighty bleeged," sez Aunt Maria. "I kin use a bit of hawg meat. An' how is yo' gittin' 'long?"
But while Louis Laplante gulped down his rum, becoming drunker and more communicative, the tempter threw glass after glass over his shoulder and remained sober. The Nor'-Wester motioned me to keep behind the Frenchman and I heard his drunken lips mumbling my own name. "Rufush prig stuck-up prig serve him tam right! Hamilton's sh sh prig too sho's his wife. Serve 'em all tam right!"
Word Of The Day