United States or Saint Pierre and Miquelon ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Now lots o' coon darkies dey uster steal de youn' Mockers jes' afore dey lef' de nest and sell 'em to white trash dat ud tote 'em down the ribber an' sell 'em agin in N'Orleans, to be fetched off in ships. And I'se hear tell dat dere ain't any sech birds in oder countries, and dat de kings and queens jes' gib dere gold crowns offen dere heads t' have a cage o' Mockers.
Don’t tell father I am here yet. And, Chloe, don’t whisper I am here to a soul. If the Yankees found out I was here, they might hang me.” “Oh, Lawd! Oh, Lawd! hang youn’ Massa?” she cried. “Ole Chloe tell no one.” “That’s right, Aunt Chloe. Now bake those biscuits I see you are making, in a hurry. And make my favorite pie. I want to eat one more meal of your cooking.
"B'essings!" she said, "b'essings on 'e dear heart an' e' 'ittie body, wiv 'e 'ittie youn' nose, an' 'e ittie b'u' eyes, an' 'e ittie youn' cheeks, an' e' ittie youn' evysing, an' nobody s'all bozzer her at all, not 'e 'east ittie bit, 'tause s'e was a sweet ittie fwing, and Billy, wiz him big fist an' him date big arm, Billy dust take 'e b'ack mans an' all 'e uzzer mans wot bozzer zis ittie soul an' 'e frow 'em yite in 'e Norf Yiver, yite in, not carin' 'tall bout 'e ice, but dus' frow 'em in an' yet 'em det out e' bes' way zay tan.
It was a fine spectacle, a little alarming, these fires in the sky that the heavy rain could not put out these continuous discharges from the clouds, in which were mingled the strident whistlings of our locomotive as we passed through the stations of Yanlu, Youn Tcheng, Houlan-Sien and Da-Tsching.
Mockers don' nes' in de woods and wild places, dey allus keeps roun' de plantations near where folks libs. "He know'd he war doin' wrong and he felt mighty uncomfoh'ble; but he done took de youn' Mockers on our plantation right under massa's nose. He war crafty like and on'y took one outen each nes' and at night de ole birds never miss 'em.
"Bury here a Northern soldier who has done me a very great honor." "Oh, Miss Lou, I des feared ter hab 'im so neah de cabin." "Hush!" said the girl, almost sternly. "Uncle Lusthah, you ought to teach mammy better than that." "Ah, youn' mistis, hit's bred in de bone. I des mourns ober my people, 'fusin' ter be comf'ted. Yere Aun' Jinkey, gittin' gray lak me.
"I want you to tell me," he said to Mornin, "what she needs. I suppose she needs something or other." "She needs mos' ev'rything, Mars Tom," was the answer; "seems like she hain't bin pervided fer 't all, no more 'n ef she was a-gwine ter be a youn' tukky dat de Lord hisself hed fitted out at de start."
Word Of The Day