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Updated: June 20, 2025
Soon's I yeerd tell on it, Marse Rupert, it set me ter steddyin'. I been a-watchin' out an' axin' questions fur weeks, an' when I fin' out " "But what has that to do with Uncle Tom?" cried Rupert. "A heap, Marse Rupert.
If I were you, Abel, I'd tell him he'd better be steddyin' about everlastin' damnation instead of steers. Steers ain't goin' to haul him out of hell fire if he once gits down into it." "Well, you can tell her, Abel," retorted grandfather, "that it's time enough to holler 'hell-fire! when you begin to burn."
Yo' grandpa over thar was steddyin' about raisin' a family before he was twenty." On either side of the stove, grandfather and grandmother nodded like an ancient Punch and Judy who were at peace only when they slept. Grandfather's pipe had gone out in his hand, and from grandmother's lap a ball of crimson yarn had rolled on the rag carpet before the fire.
"I've been settin' here steddyin' them weeds out thar over-runnin' everything," he was saying, "an' it does appear to a considerin' body that the Lord might have made 'em good grass an' grain with precious little trouble to Himself an' a mortal lot of satisfaction to the po' farmers." "He knows best. He knows best," responded Reuben.
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