" From his pocket he took a piece of paper and began to read: "'Old
Black Mammy, come here nobody don't know when an' went home on the
eighteenth of June, 1884. Her skin mout have been as dark as the night
when thar ain't no moon an' no stars, but her soul is like the risin' of
the sun when thar ain't a cloud in the sky.'" Mrs. Mayfield had turned
to listen, and Jasper inquired of her: "Will that do, ma'm?"
"Yes, Uncle Jasper, it is very expressive."
"Wall, would you mind goin' over it an' fixin' it up for me?"
"I wouldn't change a word of it," she said, and he thanked her.
"Jasper," said Laz, "I didn't know you could write."
"Wall," the old man drawled, "I kain't write as putty as the county
clerk, but I kin write as big. So you like it, ma'm?"
"Yes, Uncle Jasper."
"Wall," said he, looking at his work, "it's the truth, an' thar ain't
nuthin' skeercer than truth on grave-yard rocks."
Margaret came out of the house. "Howdy, Laz."
"Ain't runnin' no foot races, but so as to be about."
"Folks all as well as usual?"
"Ain't hearn no loud complaint.
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