I nuber seed
'im but I hyeard he wuz dar, do, an' I knows he wuz dar, caze I sho'ly
hyeard 'em clappin' uv dey han's; an', 'cordin' ter de way I 'members
bout'n it, dis is his birfday, wat de folks keeps plum till yet caze
dey ain't no men nowerdays like Marse Fofer July. He wuz er gre't man,
an' he had sense, too; an' den, 'sides dat, he wuz some er de fus'
famblys in dem days. Wy, his folks usen ter visit our white folks. I
helt his horse fur 'im de many er time; an', let erlone dat, I knowed
some uv his niggers; but den dat's ben er long time ergo."
"But what was he writin' about Daddy?" asked Diddie, who remembered
the picture too well to give up the "writing part."
"He wuz jes signin' some kin' er deeds or sump'n," said Daddy. "I
dunno wat he wuz writin' erbout; but den he wuz er man, caze he lived
in my recommembrunce, an' I done seed 'im myse'f."
That settled the whole matter, though Diddie was not entirely
satisfied; but, as the wagon drove up to the creek bank just then, she
was too much interested in the barbecue to care very much for "Marse
Fofer July."
The children all had their fishing-lines and hooks, and as soon as
they were on the ground started to find a good place to fish. Dilsey
got some bait from the negro boys, and baited the hooks; and it was a
comical sight to see all of the children, white and black, perched
upon the roots of trees or seated flat on the ground, watching
intently their hooks, which they kept bobbing up and down so fast that
the fish must have been very quick indeed to catch them.
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