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Updated: June 21, 2025
What yer say now, you Sally Ann, ain't yer 'shamed fer what yer sed 'bout Bre'er Nimbus only dis yere mornin'?" "Dat I be, Cousin Nimbus," said Sally, turning a comely but careworn face toward Nimbus, and extending her hand with a smile. "Bre'er 'Liab was jest a-tellin' me what a fool I was ter ever feel so toward jes de bes' man in de kentry, ez he sez."
Dey lib'd wid me in de lower kentry, an' arter de war war ober I stopped wid 'em and helped take keer ob de chillen; an' when dey com'd up yere dey brought me wid 'em. I'se com'd a way I didn't know, but I'se mighty glad I'se com'd." "Does you know dis place?" asked Aunt Linda, as they approached the settlement. "No'n 'deed I don't. It's all new ter me." "Well, dis is whar I libs.
"Poor woman!" said Mr. Norton, greatly shocked. "Well, I might as well tell yer the whole on't", said Micah, scratching his head. He sed Pat had gone agin the law o' the kentry, and he wouldn't hev anything to do 'beout it. So the fellers brought the body along, and I swear, Pat McGrath shall hev a decent funeral, any way". "Where is the funeral to be?" asked Mr.
"There's plenty of mean folks in this kentry that'll give him we'pons and clothes for the asking. If I can't get the drop on to him, I won't say a word to him." "This is just what I was afraid of," Rodney remarked, when the man had passed out of hearing. "Every one who meets me on the road will look upon me with suspicion, and perhaps I had better take to the woods myself."
"How does it come that you are so prompt to recognize us if you never saw us before?" inquired Rodney. "Oh, I hearn tell that there was some of Jeff Thompson's men riding through the kentry looking for a hoss-thief, and I knowed the hoss when I seen him. But ye say this aint the thief," answered the native, with an inquiring glance at Mr. Westall.
An' then, kase a mean-spirited half-liver flings dirt on ye an' yer fambly, fur ye ter sit down on a low stool, an' fill yer mouth with mud, an' 'low this air plenty good enough fur we-uns! 'Pore folks ain't fit ter git 'lected ter office!" with scornful iteration. "My Lord! this hyar is a democratic kentry!" with an echo from the stump speeches of the day.
Again the girl glanced across at the older man, mustering courage to address him. At the same moment he looked up, with eyes full of good humor and kindly interest. "Looks rather tough, I reckon, miss," waving a big hand over the table. "But you 'll have ter git used to it in this kentry." "Oh, I do not believe I ever could," disconsolately. "I can scarcely choke down a mouthful."
A race lives ther filled with energy and hope, a race as is generous and brave, 'nd warm-hearted, holdin' within 'em vitality enough ter found a dozen empires, but chained by poverty 'nd superstition, 'nd hate of the bruiser on this side of ther channel; nussin' impossible dreams 'ev a nationality which ther kentry couldn't support ef once obtained; proud ez Lucifer of a past which hez little in it 'cept wrong 'nd tyranny 'nd sufferin'; all ther exertions confined in a narrer groove, all ther work of no avail because uv indirection; clingin' ter homes which keeps 'em helpless 'nd only accomplishin' somethin' when transplanted to other fields, 'nd then carryin' on ther world's work, fiten' ther world's battles, sailin' ther world's ships, workin' ther world's mines, subduen' ther world's wildernesses, runnin' ther world's primaries, 'nd bein' ther world's perlicemen.
When I came deown to this kentry, I was a wild, reckless kind of a critter, and I thought I'd take some outlandish name, jest for the joke on it. I took Mummychog, and they allers called me so. But my real name is Jones. 'Well, Mr.
Every Wednesday and Saturday Andrew Jackson Jefferson, whose name was as queer a combination as himself, for he seemed to be about half horse, so wonderful was his understanding of those animals, and so more than wonderful theirs of him, took his "yo'ng sem'nary ladies a-gallopin' th'oo de windin's ob de kentry roads," proud as a Drum Major of his charges.
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