This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1877 Excerpt: ... snowed his ivory some, 1 guess, an' sez, "You 're fairly pinned; Jest buckle on your leg agin, an' git right up an' come, 'T wnn't dn fer fammerly men like me to be so long frmn hum." At fust I put my foot right down an' swore I would n't budge. "Jest ez you choose," sez he, quite cool, "either be shot or trudge." So ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1877 Excerpt: ... snowed his ivory some, 1 guess, an' sez, "You 're fairly pinned; Jest buckle on your leg agin, an' git right up an' come, 'T wnn't dn fer fammerly men like me to be so long frmn hum." At fust I put my foot right down an' swore I would n't budge. "Jest ez you choose," sez he, quite cool, "either be shot or trudge." So this black-hearted monster took an' act'lly druv me back Along the very I'eetmarks o' my happy mornin' track, An' kep' me pris'ner 'bout six months, an worked me, tu, like sin, Till I hed gut his cor n an' his Carliny taters in; He made me lar n him readin', tu (although the crittur saw How much it hut my morril sense to act agin the law), So'st he could read a Bible he'd gut; an' axed ef l could pint The North Star out; but there 1 put his nose some out o' jint, Fer 1 weeled roun' about son'west, an', lookin' up a bit, Picked out a middlin' shiny one an' tole him thet wuz it. Fin'lly, he took me to the door, an', givin' me a kick, Sez, --" Ef you know wut's best fer ye, be off, now, double-quick; The winter-time's a coniin' on, an', though I gut ye cheap, You're so darned lazy, I don't think you 're hardly wnth your keep; Besides, the childrin's growin' up, an' you aint jest the model l 'd like to hev 'em iminertate, an' so you'd better toddle!" Now is there anythin' on airth 'll ever prove to me Thet renegader slaves like him air fit fer bein' free? D' you think they 'll suck me in to jine the Butrio chaps, an' them Rank infidels thet go agin the Scriptur'l cus o' Shem? Not by a jugfull! sooner 'n thet, I 'd go thru fire an' water; Wen I hev once made up my mind, a meet'nhus aint sotter; No, not though all the crows thet flies to pick my bones wuz eawin', --I guess we 're in a Christian land, --Yourn, BIR...
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