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Updated: May 18, 2025


"Yes, I did," the storekeeper declared. "I was third aboard her she carried a full crew. She sailed out o' N'York for Australia and home by the way of the Chile ports and the Horn a hermaphrodite brig she was; and she could sail! "But she warn't well found. The grub was wuss'n a Blue-nose herrin' smack's. Weevilly bread and rusty beef.

"Thirteen?" inquired the leader smilingly. "Sure. Guess most folks reckon that figure unlucky." The third man snorted as he shouldered a keg and moved toward the Wagon. "Holes? Thirteen?" he cried, as he dropped his burden into the vehicle. Then he hawked and spat. "When that blamed train gets around Amberley he'll hate hisself wuss'n a bank clerk with his belly awash wi' boardin' house wet hash."

He couldn' hol' no mo' pra'r-meetin's, fer Mars Walker wouldn' 'low 'im ter preach, en de darkies wouldn' 'a' listen' ter 'im ef he had preach'. He didn' eben hab his Bible fer ter comfort hisse'f wid, fer Mars Walker had tuk it erway fum 'im en burnt it up, en say ef he ketch any mo' niggers wid Bibles on de plantation he'd do 'em wuss'n he done Dave.

Then he gets sick only a bit of fever, but it laid him out bad for a time: and he couldn't shave, and he couldn't bath, and that hurt him wuss'n the fever. We was here, then; jist in this same camp. And when he got well enough to talk again I took him his cawfee one morning, and sees him a-looking at himself in a little glass: and he looked fair frightened!

Not a dog-gone cent among 'em, an', what's more, owin' blind hulks a whole heap o' bills on mortgage. Say, that was mostly a weak move him askin' the boss fer help. Why, I guess old Marbolt hates hisself on'y one shade wuss'n he hated Manson Orr. Say, boys, ef we're askin' to lynch Red Mask, we ain't askin' in any fancy name like 'Orr. Savee?"

"Marse Willyum, he 'low HE gwine settle dat dar wah he-se'f yass, SAH! An' he got on he hoss, and he ride away an' jine Marse Jeb Stuart. But dey don' settle hit. Marse Ab'ham Linkum, he 'low HE gwine settle hit, an' sen' millyums an' millyums mo' o' dem Yankees down hyah, Marse Daniel. But dey des ONsettle hit wuss'n evah! But arter a while it des settle HITse'f.

He suspected a lot, but that was all. "Guess I don't need to tell you a deal about yourself," Seth went on presently. "I'll just mention that Nevil Steyne ain't your real name, an' it wouldn't take me guessin' long to locate the other. That's as mebbe. You're a skunk," he proceeded, without raising his voice. "You're wuss'n a yaller dawg, but even a yaller dawg mostly has an option.

He paused, and then continued in the same strain: "'Tis the same at Boonesboro and up thar at the Falls settlement. The critters is everywhar, robbin' men of their claims. Davy," said Mr. Boone, earnestly, "you know that I come into Kaintuckee when it waren't nothin' but wilderness, and resked my life time and again. Them varmints is wuss'n redskins, they've robbed me already of half my claims."

"Hope the old captain's up at Sacramento. I'd like to see him." "How large is Sacramento, stranger?" asked a neighbor at the rail. "Large, you say?" answered another. "Make yore guess. Last April when I came out with my pile it had four houses. Now I'm told it's boomin' wuss'n San Francisco and you know what that means." "So you've been to the mines, have you?" invited Mr. Adams.

"No'm, dat ain't hardly de beginnin'. Mist' lanrevel he a Ab'litionist." "Well? Won't you tell me?" "Honey, folks roun' heah mos' on 'em like Mist' Vanrevel so well dey ain't hole it up ag'in' him but, Missy, ef dey one thing topper God's worl' yo' pa do desp'itly and contestably despise, hate, cuss, an' outrageously 'bominate wuss'n' a yaller August spiduh it are a Ab'litionist!

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