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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 14, No. 82, August, 1864"


And now the excited urchin began to caper and sing:--
"'Went down to river, couldn't get across;
Jumped upon a nigger's back, thought it was a hoss!'
"Oh, crackie, Bill!"
"Father," said William, with wounded dignity,--for he was something of a
gentleman in his way,--"I wish you'd discipline that child, or else give
me permission to chuck him."
"Joseph!" said the father, with a stern shake of his big black head at
the boy, "here's a stranger in the house! Walk straight, Joseph!"
Which solemn injunction Joseph obeyed in a highly offensive manner, by
strutting off in imitation of William's dandified air.
By this time the aged negro in the corner had become fully roused to the
consciousness of a guest in the house. He came forward with slow,
shuffling step. He was almost blind. He was exceedingly deaf. He was
withered and wrinkled in the last degree. His countenance was of the
color of rust-eaten bronze. He was more than a hundred years old,--the
father of the old woman, the grandfather of the middle-aged man, and the
great-grandfather of William, Joseph, and the girls.


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