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Updated: May 17, 2025
It is all he can do to navigate his own legs within' and weavin' along under him, ready to crumple down any minute into the gutter. He'd look well tryin' to sing gospel hims when he can't tell what his own name is, or speak it if he could. Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts
"Well, things were different when we was young married folks, an' used to do our own spinnin' an' weavin'." "I guess so!" Mrs. Lamson dropped her busy hands in her lap, and leaned back a moment, in eager retrospect.
The meetin' hed been goin' on six days, an' things hed got in a good weavin' way. Thah wuz no less than five preachahs holdin' forth to oncet in diffrunt parts uv the grounds; so I tells Cissy thet ez thah wuz no tellin' when I'd git thah ag'in we'd meandeh 'roun' permiscous lak an' tek in all we could.
"'Which if thar's a wearied hectored gent in Arizona, observes the pinfeather party, as he descends outen the buckboard at the corral an' tosses the reins to a hoss-hustler, 'you-all can come weavin' up an' chance a yellow stack that I'm shore that gent. "The preacher sharp, who's about as young an' new as the pinfeather party, looks like he yoonites with him in them views.
'Now, 'member I brought you up. You won't take your children away from me, will you, Mill? 'Mistess, I shall take what childern I've got lef. 'If they fine that trunk o' money or silver plate you'll say it's your'n, won't you? 'Mistess, I can't lie over that; you bo't that silver plate when you sole my three children. 'Now, Jule, you'll say it's yourn, won't you? 'I can't lie over that either. An' she was cryin' an' wringin' her han's, an' weavin' to an' fro as she set thar.
And every kind of silk fabric that wuz ever made raw silk, jest as the worm left it when she sot up as a butterfly, and jest what man has done to it after that spinnin', weavin', dyein' up to the time when it appears in the finest ribbon, and glossiest silk, and crapes, and gauzes, and velvets, and knit goods of every kind, and etc., and so forth.
She had an uncle in Belfast workin' in your grandfather's mill, an' she came to me an' she asked me to use my influence with your grandfather to get her a job in the mill. An' I did. An' by God, I'm sorry for it! I'll rue it 'til my dyin' day, I can tell you!" "But why, father!" "Your grandfather gave her a job in the weavin' room of his mill. Do you know what that's like, Henry?"
Dem clo's," she argued, lifting the tattered garments she had removed from her patient, "don' b'long 'roun' yere. Dat kinder weavin' come f'om down to'ds Souf Ca'lina. I wish Needham 'u'd come erlong. He kin tell who dis man is, an' all erbout 'im." She made a bowl of gruel, and fed it, drop by drop, to the sick man.
On rainy days we wuz gib a certain 'mount ob weavin' ter do en had ter git hit don'. I dunno how ter read er rite. De white folks didn' 'low us ter l'arn nuthin'. I declar' you bettuh not git kotch wid a papah in you han'. Ef I had half a chance lak you chilluns hab, I'd go ter bed wid mah books." "Our Marster 'lowed us ter go ter chuch.
"So we-all goes weavin' over to the Red Light, Jack an' Pickles surveyin' each other close an' interested, that a-way, an' the rest of us on the quee vee, to go swarmin' out of range if they takes to shootin'. "'It's shore sad to part with friends, says Pickles, as he secretes his nose-paint, 'but jest the same I must saddle an' stampede out of yere.
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