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Updated: June 7, 2025
At last he came, a tall, sandy-bearded fellow, who walked beside a four-horse team drawing two covered wagons tandem. Behind him straggled a bunch of bony cattle and some horses, herded by a girl and a small boy. The girl rode a mettlesome little pony, sitting sidewise on a man's saddle. "Wal I d'n know," the old man replied in answer to Harold's question.
"It beats me what ever made you go near the hind end o' that cow for," she remarked, pausing on the threshold. "Don't you know as it 's the hind end 's always does the kickin'? The front end can't do nothin' 'nless it gores. Does she gore?" "Oh, I d'n' know," wailed poor Mrs. Lathrop. "I 'm goin'," said Miss Clegg, turning her back as she spoke.
"Hannibal hadn' mo' d'n finish' w'at he had ter say, w'en Chloe's knees gun 'way unner her, en she fell down in de road, en lay dere half a' hour er so befo' she come to.
En w'en de een' er de year come, Mars Dugal' turnt Mars Walker off, en run de plantation hisse'f atter dat. "Eber sence den," said Julius in conclusion, "w'eneber I eats ham, it min's me er Dave. I lacks ham, but I nebber kin eat mo' d'n two er th'ee poun's befo' I gits ter studyin' 'bout Dave, en den I has ter stop en leab de res' fer ernudder time."
De niggers soon 'skiver' dat he wuz a Yankee, en dat he come down ter Norf C'lina fer ter learn de w'ite folks how to raise grapes en make wine. He promus Mars Dugal' he cud make de grapevimes b'ar twice't ez many grapes, en dat de noo wine-press he wuz a-sellin' would make mo' d'n twice't ez many gallons er wine. En ole Mars Dugal' des drunk it all in, des 'peared ter be bewitched wit dat Yankee.
Howsomedever, one day Mars Walker he wuz de oberseah foun' out Dave could read. Mars Walker wa'n't nuffin but a po' bockrah, en folks said he couldn' read ner write hisse'f, en co'se he didn' lack ter see a nigger w'at knowed mo' d'n he did; so he went en tole Mars Dugal'. Mars Dugal' sont fer Dave, en ax' 'im 'bout it.
Lathrop, I was nigh to mad afore he got ready to remark 's father 'd left him a legacy on condition 't he did n't charge nothin' for probatin'." Mrs. Lathrop chewed her clover. "So I come away, 'n' I declare my patience is nigh to gin out. This gettin' married is harder 'n' house-paintin' in fly-time. I d'n' know when I 've felt so tired.
He cometh up an' is cut down lack as a flower. 'De days er his life is three-sco' an' ten' an' de ole jedge is libbed mo' d'n dat, suh, by five yeahs, ter say de leas'." "'Death," quoted Warwick, with whose mood the undertaker's remarks were in tune, "'is the penalty that all must pay for the crime of living."
De smoke-'ouses wuz lock', but somebody had a key, en manage' ter git in some way er 'nudder. Dey 's mo' ways 'n one ter skin a cat, en dey's mo' d'n one way ter git in a smoke-'ouse, leastways dat's w'at I hearn say. Folks w'at had bacon fer ter sell did n' hab no trouble 'bout gittin' rid un it.
Mars Marrabo couldn' do nuffin' mo' d'n kill 'im an' he mought's well be dead as hidin' in de woods wid nobody ter talk ter er look at ner nuffin'. He had jes' come out 'n de woods an' stahted up dis ve'y road, w'en who sh'd come 'long in a hoss 'n buggy but ole Mars Marrabo, drivin' ober ter dat yuther brickyahd youer gwinter see now.
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