The Farmington times. (Farmington, St. Francois County, Mo.) 1905-1926, 1918-04-05


d and distributed to every Southern
me no money fur to get ennythingn
An den he'd laf an say: 'G'long, you
sly raskil, an fotch in my bre'kfus!-
jes' lax he wuz orderin' il frum a res
terrant. An den I'd laf an fotch i'm
out de sof'-b'iled aigs, an de Drilled
chicken, an de homemade Gregory
kwored ham, an de biskits. An TO-
Cord, gen'men. in all dat campagne |
nuver knowed i'm to challenge de rig
ularity of his empanelmen' nur ter
s'arch too into de wharfore OBJ de
fotchness. Muir did l cher kno' i'm
ter go out an hab jury OBJ twelve
men fotch roun' to de tent to hoP emmy
inques' ober the remains OBJ dat fell
lerny wild leetle ole searchin' law
yer fur to ak quextions, an keep hint
in bout stealin', an de pentenshury,
an all dat! No sub, gen'men; Std OBJ
all dis hurraw an red-tape, he'd jes'
smile all ober an fall to an say Cord
bless you, Tom; you is er jewel an no
mistakep
"Now wizard dem aigs cum frum,
Marse John, an dem chickens? Whar's
l laf an tell you dey cum frum? AK
de Gregory hen-roosts frum Ringgold
to Dalton. An wizard dem home
kwored hams cum frum? AK de
! su,vn e-i,vuses vi, lie widuers in lie
mountings frum Chat-neeger to At
lanter! Er-huh! Twas furagin,
den, wuz it; an it won no harm fur
to eat de po' widder's las ham, or slot
err de chickens OBJ de innercents, long
as you didn't pull 'em yo'sef'? Err
huh? An / ak you right now, gen.
men, eff he didn't read outen book
dis mo'nin' mos solomonly, an 'splain
to you all mos copusly, dat de 'ses-
SCISSOR? Er-huh! 'Scuze me, Marse
John, fur recognizin' dis thing so
p'intedly, but you kno' yo'sef, you
tell me mos p'intedly ter tell what
l kno' erbout it, an I'm bleeged dc it!
cole Gabril hisse's c'u'dnt made
me do whut you kin!
can dar's de Majah, err settin' an
er smilin' an er aigin' dis thing on.
Mebbe he'd like ter kno' whut gotter
say erbout it! Lemme ak you, ma
jah, eff you disremembers de week be-
TO- de battle OBJ Resaker, an de moh-
MIN you cum ober to me an Marse
Johns tent an say Tom, you thievin'
son OBJ darkness, me an your Marse
Johns wanter hab Little 10, an Gen
eral Cheatem, an Pat Claybu'n, ober
in de tent fur supper ter-morrow, fur
we're all hongry an want sumpin fit
ter eat. We can't figth fureber on er
empty stummic. Now, you jes' git
on my boss, ter-day, an git er huff on
you, you black scamp, an go up in
desc hills an hollers, an steal emmy
thing fit ter eat in hair, hide or feath-
ers-jes' make desc Gregory hem
roasts howl! Git US sumpin' fit fur
de men dat's gwinter eat it, Tom, fur
YOU rippertashum es ur furager is
sho' at staken
"Er-huh! er-huh! You amt furgot
dat, is you, majuh, nur de supper l
got up fur you all? Err hole billed
ham--I stole dat frum err widder's
smokehouse whilst l was pricin' aigs
wild her, an watchin' dc lay OBJ de
hen-house, waitin' fur de moon to go
down. Err turkey gobbler which
mistuck an shot fur wild one mean
derin' aroun' in er medder in front OBJ
err orfun 'sylum. Biskits frum flour
got outer er mill dat seems ter kinder
run Itself, an two gallons OBJ whiskey
stole outen err hardshell preachers
cellar. An when all de generels dun
sot roun' de pine boards | fix up fer
err table, an fotch all dem things in,
smakin' hot an smellin' like err sup
per in heaben, didn't all the generel's
eyes sparkle lax di'mon's, an Little
10 up an say: why, majuh, you AK us
ter supper, an sot US down to er BAN
quet! Whar in de wurl you git all
dis?'
can den you wink yo' eye at
Marse John, an say: 'Generel john
son, eff you'd jes' pint dat niger,
Tom, dar, cheef OBJ the Commissary
Department OBJ de Army of Tennessee,
we'd nuver go hungry emmy mo-, an
we'd whip Generel Sherman in two
weeks'
can den you all laf, an went to
eatin' whut l furraged fur
"Ain't dat so? An femme ak you,
majuh, what's dc difference in furag-
in in wah an in peace? An spose
sum thirty years arter dc wah me an
my family bout to starve, an heah
de chillun chyin' fur sompin' ter eat,
an l goes by yo' lot sum dark hight
err kinder dreamin' all de time an sor-
ter libin lax err ole man will, in de
past, an gin ter think I'm in dat
bloody wah erg'in, an out fuIagin'
| fur you an Marse John, an happen
ter knock over one OBJ yo' little ole
razor-back shoats, ter take back ter
camp ergin--is dat ennything fur ter
raise sech er hooray erbout? Amt
| gwi' gil you er nudder one back dis
fawl? Jes' tell me!
"But dat amt all, Marse Johr, an
you know you AK me to tell it all! Who
wuz it nussed you, day an night,
when you had de chills an fever in
camp roun' Atlanter? Who waz it
stood by yo' side at de bridge, whar
de giner1 tole you to hol' wild 70
kumpny tell dey capture or kill you.
an when de Yankees cum lax bees er
swarmin', an shot you outen de sad
die, an dey captured you, bleedln' to
death--who pick you an kerry you
quick to de Yankee surgir's tent an