“People ebin dance slower dem days; use ter dance de min-e yet. Mars Tilghman co’tin’ Mis Henrietta, an’ he bow ter huh same ez uh tall poplar when de win’ blow hyard; an’ ez fuh Miss Henrietta, she jes’ ez graceful ez uh putty kitten, an’ stylish ez uh unbroken thurrybred colt. Ef’n de flo’ had uh bin kivverd wid de hunard-leaf roses, an’ she wuz uh dancin’, she wudn’ mash one. Many uh time, thoo de wintah, I’b seed ’em dance. I’d bin de haid waitah at ‘Otwell’ ef’n I hadn’ bin so waluble futto breck de steers an’ colts. Ole Mars’ he had de gre’tes’ confluence in meh ’rasity, an’ I wuz al’ays ’roun’ de kitchen, kase, ez I befo’ tole you, meh Muvva Phillis de haid cook. Mam Juby, she de secon’ cook, and ’sis’ mammy. “Why, hunny, ebin de peaches an’ watahmillions wuz bigger dem deys, kase dey didn’ grow up so fars; dey tuck deah time; an’ ez fuh oysters an’ fish, why dem days you cud walk out in dat cobe not fudder dan yo’ nees, an’ git all de oysters you wan’, an’ set rite at dat stake an’ pull in de fish tell you go ’stracted, an’ de wile ducks quackin’ all ’roun’ you. Dat’s de stake Leetle Billy wuz uh fishin’ at when de shirk pull him ove’bode. Leetle Billy wuz uh ornry niggah, al’ays playin’ de fiddle, mus’rattin’, tellin’ ghose stories, fishinin’ on Sunday, an’ dancin’. Mo’n dat, he nebber ’longed ter de chuch, an’ it wan’ no use ter talk ter him. How-some-eber, ev’ybody liked Billy; al’ays peart, al’ays hab ’baccy in he pocket, an’ gib lib’ly. Billy wuz uh qua’ chap; he wan’ lazy, but he didn’ lub hyard wuck. Well, he tied he bote at _dat ve’y stake_, an’ jes’ fuh fun, befo’ de tide tu’n an’ de fish bite, he put uh gre’t big sorf crab on he hook, flung de bait out, tied de line ’roun’ he leg, tuck his fiddle out an’ ’mence ter play jigs an’ sich like. Bimeby he wen’ uh sleep, an’ uh shirk cum ’long an’ tuck dat bait, pulled po’ Billy ove’bode, an’ Billy wen’ uh skeetin’, bobbin’ up an’ down like uh passel ub ’scovey ducks bavin’ deah sef, an’ prayin’ fas’ ez he cud git de watah fum he mouf. Billy say he wuz jes’ prayin’ dat de fiddle wudn’ git los’, but Cap’n Stitchberry sez he nebba heahd uh moanah pray mo’ pow’ful. Mo’n dat, ef’n Cap’n Stitchberry hadn’ cum ’long in he pungy wid uh load ub oyster shells, an’ kotch Billy when he wuz fai’ly sailin’ ’long, de shirk wud hab ’stroyed Billy. Mars Innis Randolph says, ‘Dey kyant tell whedder de niggah wuz uh fishinin’ er de fish wuz uh niggerin’.’ Dat’s de way people gits talked boutin dat fishes on Sunday. [Illustration: I’d bin de haid waitah at “Otwell” ef’n I hadn’ bin so waluble futto breck de steers an’ colts. Ole Mars had de gret’s confluence in meh ’rasity. ]