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Updated: July 11, 2025
One day, he gits right mad. 'Lows he goin' to advehtize fer a housekeepah-lady. Then Mas' Henry 'Cherd he's gemman been livin' couple o' yeahs 'er so down to near Vicksburg, some'rs; he's out huntin' now with the Cunnel why, Mas' 'Cherd he 'lows he knows whah thah's a lady, jus' the thing. Law! Cunnel didn't spec' no real lady, you know, jes' wantin' housekeepah.
"Yessah," said Breed, dramatically, rolling the whites of his eyes. "Where?" "Whah? Down on de riveh bank at Temple Bow in de ea'ly mo'nin'! Dey mos' commonly fights at de dawn." Breed had also told me where he was in hiding at the time, and that was what troubled me. Try as I would, I could not remember. It had sounded like Clam Shell.
You's at Wa'trace Hall Mahsteh Majah's new country-house; yes, sah; dat's whah you is kee-hee!" "And who is 'Master Major'?" pressed Blount, whose bewilderment grew with every fresh attempt to dispel it. "A-ain't she tell you dat? kee-hee! Ev'body knows Mahsteh Majah; yes, sah. If de mistis ain't tell you, ol' Barnabas ain't gwine to no, sah.
But just let Mary Magdalen roll out an unctious, "Whah is yuh, Beaut'ful Dawg?" and his ears and tail went up, he curveted, and made uncouth movements with his splay feet, and grinned from ear to ear. Doctor Geddes's Mandy had brought over the black kittens and their mother. Mary Magdalen made sure of their staying at home by the simple process of buttering their paws.
March, this is pufficly safe and haza'dous, seh, I feels that, seh, but I don't like this runnin' away an' hidin'! It's cowardly; le's go down an' face the thing like men! I'm goin' to crawl down back 'ards; thass the skilfullest way." "Halt!" growled John, and something else added "tick-tick." "Oh! Mr. March, faw God's sake! Ef you mus' shoot me, shoot me whah I won't fall so fuh!
Huck, dis ain't no place to joke up here whah we is. Two days in one day! How you gwine to get two days inter one day? Can't git two hours inter one hour, kin you? Can't git two niggers inter one nigger skin, kin you? Can't git two gallons of whisky inter a one-gallon jug, kin you? No, sir, 'twould strain de jug. Yes, en even den you couldn't, I don't believe.
Breed slapped his thigh. "Marse Nick Temple, Marsa's son. He's 'bout you size, but he ain' no mo' laik you den a Jack rabbit's laik an' owl. Dey ain' none laik Marse Nick fo' gittin' into trouble-and gittin' out agin." "Where is he now?" I asked. "He at Temple Bow, on de Ashley Ribber. Dat's de Marsa's barony." "His what?" "De place whah he lib at, in de country."
Jim could hardly speak, but he says: "Mars Tom, you ain't jokin', en it's SO?" "No, I'm not, and it is so." Jim shivered again, and says: "Den dat Monday could be de las' day, en dey wouldn't be no las' day in England, en de dead wouldn't be called. We mustn't go over dah, Mars Tom. Please git him to turn back; I wants to be whah "
We listened in silence as he went down the steps, and until his footsteps died away on the path. Then the gentleman rose and pulled a cord hastily. The negro came in. "Put the lad to bed, Breed," said he. "Whah, suh?" "Oh, anywhere," said the master. He turned to me. "I'll be better able to talk to you in the morning, David," said he.
She tol' me all about the devil-ment dat's been goin' on and is a-gwine to go on down in dat country. Hit's right in whah Cunnel Blount lives. I've knowed for yeahs, o' co'se, how frien'ly you two is to each otheh. Now, Mas' Edd'ern, you've been right good to me. I dess thought seein' dat I couldn't pay you nohow I'd tell you dis heah, and you could do whut you liked.
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