Nothing can't beat that ar out o' me.

Sich a faithful crittur as ye've been,--and allers sot his business 'fore yer own every way,--and reckoned on him more than yer own wife and chil'en! Them as sells heart's love and heart's blood, to get out thar scrapes, de Lord'll be up to 'em!" "Chloe! now, if ye love me, ye won't talk so, when perhaps jest the last time we'll ever have together! And I'll tell ye, Chloe, it goes agin me to hear one word agin Mas'r.

Wan't he put in my arms a baby ?--it's natur I should think a heap of him.

And he couldn't be spected to think so much of poor Tom.

Mas'rs is used to havin' all these yer things done for 'em, and nat'lly they don't think so much on 't.