But it's verra true that gin the story cam' frae that en' o' the toon, there's room for rizzonable doobts. Sae we'll awa' to our beds, and houp things mayna be sae far gane as the soun' o' them. Only I drede there's aye some water whaur the stirkie droons."

Heaps o' things dis: Marse Chan he done gi' Miss Anne her pa jes' ez good ez I gi' Marse Chan's dawg sweet 'taters, an' she git mad wid 'im ez if he hed kill 'im 'stid o' sen'in' 'im back to her dat mawnin' whole an' soun'. B'lieve me! she wouldn' even speak to 'im arfter dat! "Don' I 'member dat mawnin'!

"'I reckon I'll hab a look at de mule, says Mars Jim, 'en ef he suit me, I dunno but w'at I mought buy 'im. "So de po' w'ite man tuk Mars Jim 'roun' back er de sto', en dere stood a monst'us fine mule. W'en de mule see Mars Jim, he gun a whinny, des lack he knowed him befo'. Mars Jim look' at de mule, en de mule 'peared ter be soun' en strong.

Another long silence. "Could you find un, dee yow think, noo, into Lunnon? Suppose, now, there was a mon 'ud gie may be five pund ten pund twenty pund, by * twenty pund down, for to ha' him brocht home safe and soun' Could yow do't, bor'? I zay, could yow do't?" "I could do it as well without the money as with, if I could do it at all. But have you no guess as to where he is?"

De good Lord knows Marse Greer didn' 'vite 'em! "When word come dat dey was comin', it soun' lak a moanin' win' in de quarter. Ever'body was a-sayin', 'De Yankees is comin'! De Yankees is comin'! Us chullun was scared, but it was lak Sund'y, too, nobody doin' nothin'. Us march' 'roun' de room an' sorter sing-lak, 'De Yankees is comin'! De Yankees is comin'! Dey wouldn' let us out in de big road.

Throughout every regioun Went this foule trumpe's soun, As swift as pellet out of gun When tire is in the powder run; And such a smoke gan outwend Out of the foule trumpe's end, Black, blue, greenish, swartish, red, As dote where that men melt lead, Lo! all on high from the tewelle. Among the haunts and corners of London into which the smoke of Mr.

Dey used to take de marster's horses out at night an' ride 'em down. One Nigger, Sam, got dat mad at a mule for grabbin' at cotton he cut his tongue out. Course, Marster whupped him, but when he went to look for 'im 'bout a hour after, he foun' 'im soun' asleep. Said he ought to kill 'im, but he didn'. "When we was sick dey had a doctor for us jus' like dey done for deyse'ves.

But what she micht hae said or dune, I dinna ken; for I sweir to ye, bantam, I know nothing that happent efter, till I cam' to mysel' at the soun' o' a lauch frae outside the door. I kenned it weel eneuch, though it was a licht flutterin' lauch. Maybe I heard it the better frae the conductin' pooer o' timmer, for my broo was doon o' the buirds o' the flure.

Mony ane has come an' gane Sin' the time there was but ane: Ane was great an' strong, an' rent Rocks an' mountains as it went Afore the Lord, his trumpeter, Waukin' up the prophet's ear; Ane was like a steppin' soun' I' the mulberry taps abune; Them the Lord's ain steps did swing, Walkin' on afore his king; Ane lay doon like scoldit pup At his feet an' gatna up, Whan the word the maister spak Drave the wull-cat billows back; Ane gaed frae his lips, an' dang To the earth the sodger thrang; Ane comes frae his hert to mine, Ilka day, to mak it fine.

Heaps o' things dis: Marse Chan he done gi' Miss Anne her pa jes' ez good ez I gi' Marse Chan's dawg sweet 'taters, an' she git mad wid 'im ez if he hed kill 'im 'stid o' sen'in' 'im back to her dat mawnin' whole an' soun'. B'lieve me! she wouldn' even speak to him arfter dat! "Don' I 'member dat mawnin'!