United States or Singapore ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Ef you bleedzd ter know mo' dan w'at I duz, den you'll hatter hunt up some er deze yer niggers w'at's sprung up sence I commence fer ter shed my ha'r." "Well, I just thought, Uncle Remus," said the little boy, in a tone remarkable for self-depreciation, "that the man had a name." "Tooby sho," replied the old man, with unction, puffing away at his pipe. "Co'se. Dat w'at make I say w'at I duz.
"Tooby sho de pa'm er my han's w'ite, honey," he quietly remarked, "en, w'en it come ter dat, dey wuz a time w'en all de w'ite folks 'uz black blacker dan me, kaze I done bin yer so long dat I bin sorter bleach out." The little boy laughed. He thought Uncle Remus was making him the victim of one of his jokes; but the youngster was never more mistaken. The old man was serious.
"Do they get out of their skins?" asked the little boy, in an awed tone. "Tooby sho, honey. You see yo' pa pull his shut off? Well, dat des 'zackly de way dey duz. But dish yere nigger w'at I'm tellin' you 'bout, he kyo'd his brer de ve'y fus pass he made at him. Hit got so dat fokes in de settlement didn't have no peace.
The line runs right acrost my simblin' patch, an' backs up ag'in' my hoss-stable." "Tooby shore tooby shore!" exclaimed the squire. "Tut-tut! What am I doin'? My mind is drappin' loose like seed-ticks from a shumake bush. Tooby shore, it's the Mathis lot. Mr. Wooderd, Mr. Poteet Mr. Poteet, Mr. Wooderd; lem me make you interduced, gents." Mr.
Then there were Langhammer and Reumaini, the clever Max Mayrshofer, Bechler of the snow scenes, Obwald, Tooby, Leibl, Marées, and a very strongly conceived and soundly modelled nude by the Munich artist, Ernest Liebermann, one of the most gifted of the younger men and no relation of Meister Max of the same name. Local art in Vienna did not give me a thrill.
Oh, hol' me, honey, hol' me, er I'll laf myse'f ter def. I ain' nebber laf' so much sence I be'n bawn. "'Wat you laffin' at, Hot-Foot? "'Yah, yah, yah! Wat I laffin' at? W'y, I's laffin' at myse'f, tooby sho', laffin' ter think w'at a fine 'oman I made. "Chloe tu'nt pale, en her hea't come up in her mouf.
Of date December 24, 1870, in the files of the Deseret News is found a telegram from George A. Smith, who was with President Brigham Young and party in Utah's Dixie, at St. George. He wired: "Jacob Hamblin, accompanied by Tooby, a Moqui magistrate of Oraibi village, and wife, who are on a visit to this place to get information in regard to agriculture and manufactures, came here lately.
"'Oho, ma'am! says I; 'things is come to a mighty purty pass when quality folks has to go frum house to house a-huntin' up pore white trash, an' a-astin' airter the'r kin. Tooby shore! tooby shore! Yessum, a mighty purty pass, says I."
"Tooby sho, honey," replied the old man, regarding the child with admiration. "Tooby sho, honey; dat changes marters. Chris'mus doin's is outer date, en dey ain't got no bizness layin' roun' loose.
Oh, hol' me, honey, hol' me, er I'll laf myse'f ter def. I ain' nebber laf' so much sence I be'n bawn. "'W'at you laffin' at, Hot-Foot? "'Yah, yah, yah! W'at I laffin' at? W'y, I's laffin' at myse'f, tooby sho', laffin' ter think w'at a fine 'oman I made. "Chloe tu'nt pale, en her hea't come up in her mouf.
Word Of The Day