I did n' s'pose you en young
missis 'u'd be gwine on yo' dribe ter-day, but bein' ez it's my pa't ter
take you ef you does, I 'lowed I 'd repo't fer dooty, en let you say
whuther er no you wants ter go."
"I'm glad you came, Julius," I responded. "We don't want to go driving,
of course, in the rain, but I should like to consult you about another
matter. I'm thinking of taking in a piece of new ground. What do you
imagine it would cost to have that neck of woods down by the swamp
cleared up?"
The old man's countenance assumed an expression of unwonted seriousness,
and he shook his head doubtfully.
"I dunno 'bout dat, suh. It mought cos' mo', en it mought cos' less, ez
fuh ez money is consarned. I ain' denyin' you could cl'ar up dat trac'
er Ian' fer a hund'ed er a couple er hund'ed dollahs,--ef you wants ter
cl'ar it up. But ef dat 'uz my trac' er Ian', I would n' 'sturb it, no,
suh, I would n'; sho 's you bawn, I would n'."
"But why not?" I asked.
"It ain' fittin' fer grapes, fer noo groun' nebber is."
"I know it, but"--
"It ain' no yeathly good fer cotton, 'ca'se it's top low.
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