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Updated: June 26, 2025
Ah jes' couldn't holp worryin', Marse Kenneth, 'bout you all. Ah sez to mahself, ef Marse Kenneth he ain' got no fitten place to lay his weary haid " "Oh, then you were not kept awake by noises or by the by, did you hear any noises?" "Noises? No, SUH! Dis yere cabin hit was like a grave. Thass what kep' me awake, mos' likely. Ah reckon Ah is used to noises.
I didn' ask him how many shildren he had and he didn' ask me if I was a Benedictine or a or a pony of brandy thass pretty good. Hope I can rememmer it to-mor'." Kedzie smiled, but not at his boozy pun. She seemed more comfortable. She fell asleep. Next to being innocent, being absolved is the most soothing of sensations. The next morning that parrot, still unmurdered, woke Kedzie early.
It in the sacred scripters, which I hope that, like myseff, fum a chile thou hass known them, ain't you? Yass, well, thass right. I loves to see a young lady pious. I'm pious myseff. Ef I wan't a legislater I'd be a preacher. Now, you ass me the same riddle what Delijah ass Saampson. An' you know how he anseh her? He assed a riddle to her.
If er 'ooman say she do different f'om thet, she shoh'ly fergettin' o' the trufe, thass all! Ain' thought o' him! Go 'long!" Aunt Lucy wiped her hand upon her apron violently in the vehemence of her incredulity. Mary Ellen's face sobered with a trace of the old melancholy. "Aunt Lucy," she said, "you mean kindly, I am sure, but you must not talk to me of these things.
He had to draw his nose slowly through his thumb and two fingers before he could quite command himself. Mary relieved him by responding: "No, Mr. Richling hasn't been well for some time." Narcisse responded triumphantly: "It stwuck me so soon I pe'ceive you that you 'ave the ai' of a valedictudina'y. Thass a ve'y fawtunate that you ah 'esiding in a 'ealthsome pawt of the city, in fact."
'Cause thass my natu'e, Mistoo Itchlin; I gatheh honey eve'y day fum eve'y opening floweh, as the bahd of A-von wemawk." So they went on. Ad infinitum? Ah, no!
"Certainly," said Richling, with evident disappointment. "Well, it's juz a poss'bil'ty that you'll wefwain fum spillin' out fum yeh till the negs cawneh. Thass the manneh of those who ah not acquainted with the pee-ogue. 'Lost to sight, to memo'y deah' if you'll egscuse the maxim. Thass Chawles Dickens mague use of that egspwession." Richling answered with a gay shake of the head.
"No, seh, I ain't dead-sho' who you is, but I has ezamine yo' hoss, an' whilce I wouldn' swear you ah Mr. Pettigrew, thass the premonition I espec' to espress to my frien' Mr. March, lessn you tell me now, an' tell me true, who you ah. "Yass, seh, I thought so. Yass, seh.
"Do I know what?" "Does you know who's jess erbout ther fines' and likelies' man whut lives in all these yer pahts erroun' yer?" Mary Ellen stopped tossing bits of bread to the chickens. "No, Aunt Lucy," she said. "I hadn't thought about that." "Yes, you has!" cried Aunt Lucy, rising and shaking a bodeful forefinger. "Yes you has, an' yes you does! An' you don' 'preshuate him, thass whut.
I don' seem to place you, jock. Where you been ridin'? East?" "I ain't a jock. I'm only gallopin' 'em. Who are you?" "Jockey Jones, whut rides faw Misteh Curry. If you ain't a jock, you sutny ought to be. You don't set a hawss like no exercise boy. Thass why I mistook you faw Walsh." "What horse is that?" "This jus' one 'em Curry beetles. Whut you got, jock?" "Zanzibar." "Any good?"
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