I reckon hit is time I wuz in de field, but I reckon I got to stay heah to tek care of you.

How yo ahm, Marse Lewis ?" "It's not so bad." "You sho wuz ressless in yo sleep--a-talkin' an' a-turnin' an' sayin' you mustn't keep de cote waitin'.

I done sit by you ter keep de kivers on twill de cock crow.

What you reckon you said to me?
You said, 'Is dat you, Gineral Buonaparte ?'" Rand laughed, "Did you say, 'Yes, sire my brother ?'" "No, sah, I say, 'Hit's Joab, Marse Lewis.' I gwine now ter git de water to shave you ef dar's fire in de kitchen.

Folks git up moughty late at Fontenoy.