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Updated: May 13, 2025
In the clear evening a wagon sped along towards the east, through the saffron marshes, tramping down the stickweed and ironweed and the golden rod, and, while the people in it cowered close, the negro driver sang, as carelessly as if he was the lord of the country: "De people of Tuckyhoe Dey is so lazy an' loose, Dey sows no buttons upon deir clothes, And goes widout deir use; So nature she gib dem buttons, To grow right outen deir hides, Dat dey may take life easy, And buy no buttons besides.
The dust rose in clouds, whitening the elder, the stickweed, and the blackberry bushes. The locusts shrilled in the parching trees. The sky was cloudless and intensely blue, marked only by the slow circling of a buzzard far above the pine-tops. There were many pines, and the heat drew out their fragrance, sharp and strong.
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