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Updated: May 16, 2025
His woolly hair is white, and his eyes very bright. He wears a small grizzled mustache. He is always clean and neatly dressed. "Miss, you can count up for yo'se'f. I was born on October 11, 1833. My young Marster give me my age when he heired de prope'ty of his uncle, Marse W.B. Withers. He was a-goin' through de papers an' a-burnin' some of 'em when he foun' de one 'bout me.
I slid up the window-shade and sat blinking at a flood of sunshine. "Telegram?" I said, yawning and rubbing my eyes. "Let me have it. All right, I'll be out presently. Shut that curtain! I don't want the entire car to criticise my pink pajamas!" "Ain' nobody in de cyar, 'scusin yo'se'f, suh," grinned the porter, retiring.
"He'p yo'se'f!" exclaimed the colored man with a grin as he extended a canvas bag that was tied to the stock of the electric gun. The old hunter opened it and found it filled with ship biscuits. "Well I am stumped!" he exclaimed. "I grabbed up de wrong thing in my haste," Washington explained. "I thought I had de electrical lightning bullets, but I didn't.
Some days you find yo'se'f miserable when thar ain't nuthin' happened, an' the next day, when still nuthin' has tuck place to change things, you find yo'se'f happy. If you kin do a little suthin' to help a po' body along an' do it, mind you, without thinkin' that you air doin' it fur a purpose, then the chances air that you'll be happy all day.
"Brer Wolf looked 'stonish'. He 'low, 'How you know? "Brer Rabbit say, 'I knows what I knows! "Brer Wolf say, 'Gimme some mo'! "Brer Rabbit say, 'You kin git some mo' fer yo'se'f easy 'nuff, en de fresher 'tis, de better. "Brer Wolf 'low, 'How you know? "Brer Rabbit say, 'I knows what I knows! "Wid dat Brer Wolf stepped out, en start to'rds Brer Fox.
"I nurver hit you a lick you didn't deserve, suh, I nurver had you whipped but once an' dat wus for stealin' a horg which you sed yo'se'f you stole. You ken do wid me es you please," he went on, "you am menny an' kin do it, an' I am ole an' weak. But ef you hes got enny soul, spare de po' ole 'oman who ain't nurver dun nothin' but kindness all her life.
"Well, Brother Lovin', you shore does look lak you'd hung yore harp 'pon the willer-tree an' wuz fixin' to tek in sorrow fur a livin'," he said in greeting. "Cheer yo'se'f up; 'tain't nothin' so worse but whut it mout be worser." "Easy fur you to say so, Brother Poindexter; harder fur me to do so," stated Æsop.
"De fus' litter o' biscuits is raidy to slide in de stove, en de chicken en trout is fried brown. Everthing is got ter be des right dis fus' mawnin' dat Marse Jarvis is home ter stay. Fifteen minutes is long 'nough fer 'im ter dress." "Ring de bell yo'se'f, 'ooman!" Zeke laughed, loudly. "Yo' gittin' so heavy en waddly yo' don' want ter turn yo' han's over.
"Yah, yah, yah!" jeered one of the negroes who had come up with Foreman Corbett, as he gazed contemptuously up and down the bulky figure of Mr. Ebony. "Yo' done been tellin' us 'spectable cullud fo'ks dat de great way to injye life was to be tough an' smaht, lak yo'se'f. How ye' feel erbout it now? Doan' yo' wish yo' been mo' 'spectable yo'se'f?
"Yes, Mistah Puhs'val!" said Grant, and added to himself, "Yo' suttiny do ca'y yo'se'f mighty han'some, Mistah Man!" Going out of the hotel, he met Launton Oldaker, with whom he chatted a few moments, and then bade good-bye.
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