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Hagar, the girl who waited upon her, came in and flung wide the shutters. "Dar's er mockin' bird singin' mighty neah dish-yer window! Reckon he gwine mek er nes' in de honeysuckle." "I meant to wake up very early," said Judith. "Is any one downstairs yet, Hagar? No, not that dress. The one with the little flowers." "Dar ain' nobody down yit," said Hagar.
Some people have to swallow a few front teeth before they kin learn anythin'." "Well, what call did he have to jump on me like that?" protested Lightfoot. "I wasn't doin' nothin'." "No, nothin' but singin' bawdy songs about his girl," sneered Reavis sarcastically. "His girl, rats!" retorted the cowboy, vainglorious even in defeat, "she's my girl, if she's anybody's!"
"O come, all ye faithful, Joyful and triumphant!" Once more he heard the familiar strain taken up lustily by many voices. "Hear all the world singin' on the way to Bethlehem!" he said, and the stupor seemed to leave his brain. He no longer staggered. "I'll run an' join 'em, an' I won't drink another drop this night." He looked up at the starry sky. "Maybe the Angel hears me.
Wherever there was a chance to get in some singin', there you'd be sure to find Uncle Jim. Folks used to say he enjoyed a funeral a heap better than he did a weddin', 'cause he could sing at the funeral, and he couldn't at the weddin'; and Sam Crawford said he believed if Gabriel was to come down and blow his trumpet, Uncle Jim would git up and begin to sing.
'Well, I should think I do, sez I, 'an' of all the bold young scamps! 'Well, sez she, 'that fellow's goin' to be a Presbyterian minister! 'A minister! sez I; 'what on earth's a minister doin' flappin' 'round in a black night-gown an' playin' on a fryin' pan an' singin' nigger songs? He ought to be home readin' his Bible! sez I. 'Well, sez Maria, 'he's goin' to be one anyhow.
Why your neighbors here testify to the fact that you were making a great deal of noise so much that they could not sleep." Mrs. Hilles is the daughter of the late Thomas Bayard, formerly America's ambassador to Great Britain, and Secretary of State in President Cleveland's cabinet. LOTTIE: "I tells yo' honor' we wuz jes singin' lak we allays do. JUDGE : "What were you singing?"
Mason Rogers was among this number, his wife declaring that "the hull thing would likely fall through ef Mason warn't thar to holp lead the singin'. Ez fer me," she said cheerfully to her children, "I'll stay to home most o' the time to cook things fer you-all ter eat up thar et the camp. Some day when I kin spar' time, I'll be ovah to heah the preachin', an' ter see whut's goin' on.
And you don't have to gum that pilot-bread if your teeth is loose. You can boil yourself a pot of mush when your turn comes. You got a free hand. As for me, I eat anything I want to and I SING anything I want to whenever I want to, and I'd like to see anybody stop me. We don't have to toss up for turns at singin'." More loudly he raised his high-pitched voice; ostentatiously he rattled his dishes.
I never work harder than when I'm makin' a record for the phonograph. It's a queer feelin'. I mind weel indeed the first time ever I made a record. I was no takin' the gramophone sae seriously as I micht ha' done, perhaps I'd no thocht, as I ha' since. Then, d'ye ken, I'd not heard phonographs singin' in ma ain voice in America, and Australia, and Honolulu, and dear knows where beside.
Uncle Jimpson, plowing near by, looked up and smiled: "Dat's right, Honey; sounds lak ole times to hear you singin' ag'in. I was jus' settin' here steddyin' how good I'd feel ef de Cunnel could come a stompin' 'long an' gimme one of his 'fore-de-war cussin's fer bein' lazy." "Oh, Uncle Jimpson, if he could! It seems so long since he left us.
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