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Updated: June 5, 2025
Dat's de fac' truf, Bre'er Nimbus, an' no lyin". Yah, yah!" "Sho, sho, Berry," replied Nimbus, reproachfully; "what makes Sally sech a big fool? She oughter be ashamed ter treat her ole fren's dat ar way." "Now yer talkin', Bre'er Nimbus, dat you is! But la sakes! Bre'er Nimbus, dat ar gal hain't got no pride. Why yer wouldn't b'lieve hit, but she ain't even 'shamed of Berry fac'! Yah, yah!
"Now, Mis' 'Livy, what is I ever uttered er said er spoke er done dat would make you s'pose I could tell you a lie 'bout yo' own chile?" "No, Mammy Jane, I'm sure you wouldn't." "'Deed, ma'am, I'm tellin' you de Lawd's truf. I don' haf ter tell no lies ner strain no p'ints 'bout my ole mist'ess's gran'chile.
"Since freedum I'se wuked wid diff'ent peeple, cookin' en keepin' house. I'se de mammy ob three chilluns. Two ob dem ez 'way fum 'yer, en I live 'yer wid mah daughter." "Old songs, I member ez: Dark wuz de Nite. I'll Live wid Gawd Forever, Bye en Bye. Fum dis Earth I go, Oh Lawd, W'at Will 'kum ob Me." "So yer wan't me ter tell you de truf?
And how well he could play any rôle he chose! He cleared his throat, and addressed his companion in broad cockney. "Gawd's truf, Sammie!" he said. "If this fair don't look like a bit of 'ome. Ain't spotted the briny for a dog's age. Let's 'ave a drink." Someone turned at his raucous voice and looked back over the curve of a huge shoulder.
"Dat's de truf," replied Cyd, shaking his head. "Long Tom" was a tall, stout negro-driver, who did the whipping upon the plantation. He was to be whipped! It was a barbarism to which he had never been subjected, and he was appalled at the thought. At first, he decided not to return. Even the bloodhounds and the perils of the swamp were less terrible than the whipping-post.
"If I had it ter do over I'd never 'a' let him git so free with his feet in the oven. The truf er the matter is, Miss Milly, that you an' Marse Bob Bucknor an' all yo' chilluns as well, long with all the res' of the fambly includin' of Marse Big Josh an' Marse Lil Josh, done accepted of Miss Ann Peyton an' ol' Billy an' the ca'ige hosses like they wa' the will of the Almighty.
I've 'served dat it's po'ful easy fer folks ter tell oder folks wat ter do and wat not ter do. No 'fence, Elder. You been doin' you duty, but you'se been layin' down rudder 'stended princ'ples. I know you'se got ter preach broad an' ter lay down de truf fer de hull winyard, but I wants ter know wat ter do wid my own little patch ob ground. Now here's me and dar's my young Missy 'pendin' on me."
"Elder," began Uncle Sheba in his most plaintive tone, "you know de heat yistidy was po'ful " "Mr. Buggone," interrupted his wife severely, "dis ain't no 'casion fer beatin' round de bush an' creepin troo knotholes. You knows de truf an' I knows de truf. No, Elder, we'se got not'in ter say at jes' dis time." "Den, Elder, you put de motion dat we take steps," said Tobe, promptly.
"Well," said Aun' Sheba, meditatively, "I wants ter be open ter de truf, an' I does own up, Kern, dat de Elder puts it monstis peart an' bery conwincin'. But," she continued argumentatively, laying the forefinger of her left hand on the broad palm of her right, "dars gen'ly two sides to a question. Dat's whar folks git trip up so of'n dey sees ony one side.
There was an affair of outposts, in which several prisoners were taken. These acknowledged that a very large force of cavalry occupied Harrisonburg, and that Jackson was close behind, having rebuilt the bridge at Fort Republic across the Shenandoah, and advanced by the Keezletown road. An old negro shambled one morning into the lines. "Yaas, sah, dat's de truf! I ain' moughty unlike ol' Brer Eel.
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