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Updated: May 4, 2025
Well, 'tis what I was never brought up to! With our family 'twas never less than 'taters, and very often 'pertatoes' outright; mother was so particular and nice with us girls there was no family in the parish that kept them selves up more than we." The hour of parting came. Fancy could not remain for the night, because she had engaged a woman to wait up for her.
"Have you a garden of your own?" she asked. "No. I'm bachelder an' lodge with Martin at th' gate." "If you had one," said Mary, "what would you plant?" "Cabbages an' 'taters an' onions." "But if you wanted to make a flower garden," persisted Mary, "what would you plant?" "Bulbs an' sweet-smellin' things but mostly roses." Mary's face lighted up. "Do you like roses?" she said.
Ted threw back his head and coughed behind his hand, nonplussed for the moment; presently, noting that the practical side of the case was the only one likely to meet with favour, he resumed artfully "Think how coomfortable it 'ud be of a rainy day, i'stead o' startin' out i' th' wet to feed pig an' do for chickens, to say to your gaffer, 'Sitha, thou mun see to they things afore thou goes to thy wark' an' of an evening, when he' coom awhoam, ye could set him to get th' 'taters, an' chop wood an' that."
Tim now shouted out that the "taters" were cooked, and returning to the camp-fire, the party enjoyed a very satisfactory repast with the aid of the bananas and cocoa-nuts. After this they made their way for some distance inland, passing large forests of tamanas, or mahogany trees, which appeared to cover the greater part of the island.
We lived dere on Marster Rankin's farm fer ye'rs in fact so long we tho't de place 'longed ter mah daddy. We had a house wid big cracks in hit, had a big fier place, a big pot dat hong on de fier en a skillet dat we cooked corn bread in. Had a hill ob taters under de house, would raise up a plank, rake down in de dirt git taters, put dem in de fier ter roast.
When Bill took the last quart of meal from the house, as rations for a bear hunt, his patient Marg walked five miles to the store with a skinny old chicken, last of the flock, and offered to barter it for "a dustin' o' salt." There was not a bite in her house beyond potatoes, and "'taters don't go good 'thout salt." In our primitive community there were no trades, no professions.
"But that's what broke my health all down," interposed Uncle Jason. "Don't pay a man to work so hard when he's young. He has ter suffer for it in the end." "Huh!" grunted Marty. "If it wasn't good for you to work so hard when you was young, what about me?" "You git along out o' here an' start on them 'taters!" commanded Mr. Day, angrily. Marty slid out, muttering under his breath.
The little party at the cabin window sent out a cheer and then a groan, for the bow man had hooked on, and the Americans began to climb up, their leader having his hands on the bulwarks, and sprang aboard, when something black, which proved to be Taters' fist, struck him in the face, and he fell back. Another's head appeared above the side, and there was another blow and a splash.
She thought of possum parties, with accompaniments of sweet 'taters and possum gravy. Her lip trembled, tears rolled down her black cheeks. She had been living in the midst of air raids, her ears had been stunned with the roar of Big Bertha. Now she nevuh wanted to hear nuttin' louder dan bull-frawg in de river so long as she lived. She was sorry to leave Mrs.
En Dan kep' on studyin' 'bout dis 'tel he got so he did n' ha'dly das' ter eat er drink fer fear dis cunjuh man had p'isen' de vittles er de water. Fin'lly he 'lowed he 'd go ter see Aun' Peggy, de noo cunjuh 'oman w'at had moved down by de Wim'l'ton Road, en ax her fer ter do sump'n ter pertec' 'im fum dis cunjuh man. So he tuk a peck er 'taters en went down ter her cabin one night.
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