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Updated: October 3, 2025
Yassir, I gives you jes one chance mo', and dat's now, en it las' on'y half a second you hear?" Tom slumped to his knees and began to beg, saying: "You see I'm begging, and it's honest begging, too! Now tell me, Roxy, tell me." The heir of two centuries of unatoned insult and outrage looked down on him and seemed to drink in deep draughts of satisfaction.
"Yes, that's what they do." "Mars Tom, ain't de blessin' o' de Lord de mos' valuable thing dey is?" "Yes, it is." "Don't de preacher stan' up in de pulpit en call it down on de people?" "Yes." "Whah do it come from?" "From heaven." "Yassir! you's jes' right, 'deed you is, honey it come from heaven, en dat's a foreign country. NOW, den! do dey put a tax on dat blessin'?" "No, they don't."
"Thank you," answered Tom wearily. "Can you give me something to eat?" "Yassir. You come right in." "I'd better unsaddle the horse first, mammy," replied Tom. "Jasper, you tell yo' pa to unsaddle this gentleman's horse. You come right in here, sir. I'll tell the white folks." Tom needed no second urging. He entered the big kitchen, his stomach wrenching and aching at the odor of food.
One of the gentle, black-robed sisters put a thermometer in his mouth to take his temperature. Presently, when the doctor made his rounds, he said: "Well, Nathan, how do you feel?" "I feel right tol'ble, boss." "Have you had any nourishment?" "Yassir." "What did you have?" "A lady done gimme a piece of glass ter suck, boss." He was a mine-sweeper, and, home on leave, was feeling a bit groggy.
Yes, I remember now. After the surrender, you took the name of don't prompt me Mitchell, and went to the West to Nebraska." "Yassir, yassir," the old man's face stretched with a delighted grin "dat's him, dat's it. Newbraska. Dat's me Mose Mitchell. Old Uncle Mose Mitchell, dey calls me now. Old mars', your pa, gimme a pah of dem mule colts when I lef' fur to staht me goin' with.
She sent out the sort of wholehearted peal of laughter which God had vouchsafed in its perfection to none but the happy angels in heaven and the bruised and broken black slave on the earth, and said: "Dad fetch dat duel, I be'n in it myself." "Gracious! did a bullet do that?" "Yassir, you bet it did!" "Well, I declare! Why, how did that happen?" "Happened dis-away.
His knock at the door for instead of an electric bell the lady insisted on using one of those enormous old silver-plated knockers, that used to be the fashion fifty or sixty years back was answered by a colored woman, who seemed to know the boy, for she smiled pleasantly. "Yassir, de missus is in," she told him in answer to his question.
How's everything?" he inquired, hilariously. "You taking good care of this building? Let any more eight-room apartments? You've got to keep right on the job, you know. Can't have you loafing because you've got those brass buttons." The small page showed his teeth in gleeful appreciation of their friendly intimacy. "Yassir. That's so," he answered. "Mis' Barom she's waitin' for you.
"Yassir," answered Topsy, inserting an index finger into her mouth. An' that skyeered me so ah made up mah mind ah wouldn' grow no further." The mayor turned to Helen. "You understand of course, my dear, that I cannot lay a proposition of so vague a nature before the Board of Aldermen. They are a rather unimaginative set of men."
You's a nigger! bawn a nigger and a slave! en you's a nigger en a slave dis minute; en if I opens my mouf ole Marse Driscoll'll sell you down de river befo' you is two days older den what you is now!" "It's a thundering lie, you miserable old blatherskite!" "It ain't no lie, nuther. It's just de truth, en nothin' but de truth, so he'p me. Yassir you's my son " "You devil!"
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