But de niggers all notice' dey marster did n' tie Primus up, ner
take on much 'ca'se de mule wuz gone. So dey 'lowed dey marster must 'a'
had his s'picions 'bout dat cunjuh man."
My wife had listened to Julius's recital with only a mild interest. When
the old man had finished it she remarked:--
"That story does not appeal to me, Uncle Julius, and is not up to your
usual mark. It isn't pathetic, it has no moral that I can discover, and
I can't see why you should tell it. In fact, it seems to me like
nonsense."
The old man looked puzzled as well as pained. He had not pleased the
lady, and he did not seem to understand why.
"I'm sorry, ma'm," he said reproachfully, "ef you doan lack dat tale. I
can't make out w'at you means by some er dem wo'ds you uses, but I'm
tellin' nuffin but de truf. Co'se I did n' see de cunjuh man tu'n 'im
back, fer I wuz n' dere; but I be'n hearin' de tale fer twenty-five
yeahs, en I ain' got no 'casion fer ter 'spute it. Dey 's so many things
a body knows is lies, dat dey ain' no use gwine roun' findin' fault wid
tales dat mought des ez well be so ez not.
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