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قراءة كتاب Bypaths in Dixie Folk Tales of the South
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
foolin’ her, but she crack ’em crost de haid wid de broom stick, an’ dey darsn’t say so no mo’.
“Long ’bout Chris’mus time Miss Gully wus took down wid de rumatiz. She can’t lif’ er finger, let lone git up, so she tell Abe ter bring de ole man up in de house. Yas suh, dat rooster strut hissef all ov’r dat house. He peck at hissef in de lookin’ glass, an’ he light up on de pianny in de parler; he fly up on de baid an’ peck Miss Gully’s nose, an’ she tell Abe de ole Man’s lovin’ her. Hit sho’ wus cur’us ’bout dat rooster, caze ev’y time de doct’r come, he hop up on de foot er de baid an’ cluck, an’ cluck tell de doct’r git up an’ go. One day de doct’r tell Miss Gully she gwine die. She sorter cry ’bout hit er spell, den she sont fur de ole man’s hant. Abe he go an’ shoo de roost’r in de room, but he can’t make him fly on de baid. Abe he tiptoe an’ wave his han’s sof’ like b’hime him, but de rooster run und’r de baid an’ cackle, an’ cluck, an’ make so much fuss dat de boys wanter run him out, but Miss Gully say he talkin’ ter her. She answer back ter him, ‘Yas, suh,—dat’s right,—yas, suh, I’m gwine do jes like you says.’ She keep er gwine on dat erway er long time, tell bimeby she tell Abe ter go git lawyer Clark ter make her er will. She say de ole man say she got ter give him all de money, dat de chillun’ll spen’ hit ef she don’t. De lawyer argufy wid her ’bout doin’ sich er trick es dat, but he thowin’ ’way his bref, caze by de time he git thu’ wid dat speech, Miss Gully wus done daid.”
The children took a long breath. “Did the hant kill her, Mammy?”
“Hit conjur her so she dunno whut she doin’, jes like dat ole chickin try ter do me.”

“DAT OLE ROOST’R SQUATTIN’ UND’R DE BAID
AIN’ NUV’R TAK’N HIS EYES OFF’N ABE.”
“Did the children cry when their mama died?” came tremulously from Mary Van.
“Dey car’ied on right sharply, caze she wus er good ole ’ooman ’fo’ she got conjured, an’ she wus jes doin’ what she think wus right den; but der cryin’ wusn’t nuthin’ ter dat nigg’r Abe howlin’ an’ moanin’ ov’r in de cornd’r. Yer see dat ole roost’r squattin’ und’r de baid ain’ nuv’r tak’n his eyes off’n Abe, an’ Abe want ’im ter g’long an’ keep comp’ny wid somebody else sides him. So he holler’, ‘Mistis, fur de Lawd’s sake make Marst’r g’long wid yer.’ Den de ole rooster start ter cluckin’ an’ fussin’, an’ hit ’pear dat he fixin’ ter go to’ards Abe. Abe he start ter hol’rin’: ‘Nor suh, nor suh, I doan want yer ter g’way fum hyah! I wants Mistis ter come back in one dese big Langshan hens, so you won’t git so lonesome, dat’s whut I wants.’ De rooster keep on er cacklin’ an’ er fixin’ ter fly out’n de wind’r, but Abe think he gwine jump on him, an’ he yell, ‘Please suh, doan hu’t Abe, Marster, caze whin I dies, I’m gwine come back in one dese fine gooses, an’ wait on yer plum tell jedgement.’”
“Did old Langshan get all the money, Mammy?” the financial side appealing to Willis.
“He git much uv hit es hit take ter buy pizen ter make er conjur pill ter kill him wid.”
“Can you kill a hant?” he asked incredulously.
“Yer can’t kill ’em ’zackly, but yer kin run ’em inter sum uth’r creet’r, dat is ef de conjur pill wurk.”
“Mammy,” began both children at once.
“Hole on,—jes one ax at er time—let de lady have de fus time, caze you’se Mammy’s man. Now den, ax yer sayso, Ma’y Van.”
“Did Miss Gully turn to a hen?”
“She done bin eat up long ergo ef she did,” then turning to Willis, “Whut’s Mammy’s man got ter ax?”
“I want to know how Abe turned to a goose.”
“Abe didn’t hatt’r turn ter no goose ertall, caze de Lawd done alreddy born’d him er goose.—Come on now, an’ less play in de yard.”
III
JACK O’ LANTERN AND THE GLOW WORM
“Mammy, you cut m’ Jack-my-Lantern for me.” Willis was struggling to carve features in a huge pumpkin.
“I tole yer ter let Zeek make dat foolish lookin’ thing,” grumbled Phyllis, faithfully striving however to cut the pumpkin according to Willis’s instructions.
“Make Mary Van one too,” he demanded.
“I got one,” and Mary Van blew into the kitchen door with a gust of chilly wind, “and Papa’s made a pretty one for you too, Willis—ain’t you glad?”
“Whut you all think dem Jacky-Lanterns is enyhow?” Phyllis asked with an air of mystery.
“They are—” Willis hesitated, “they are—funny pretties,” he finished.
“Dey ain’ nuthin’ funny ’bout er show nuff Jack-my-Lantern, I kin tell yer dat fur sartin an’ sho!” Her face assumed a grave expression, “and—take keer, boy, Kitty’ll spill hot greese on yer,” making a dive at Willis in time to save the cook from stumbling. “Come on out er dis hyah kitchen,—’tain’ no place fur chillun no how.”
“Mammy, less go over to Mary Van’s and get m’ Jack-my-Lantern,” coaxed Willis, as Phyllis directed the way toward the nursery.
“Nor, yer doan need hit tell dark. Jack-my-Lanterns doan come out ’cep’in’ at night. Leastways fokes doan see em.”
“Jack-my-Lanterns ain’t anything but big old pumpkins, are they, Mammy Phyllis?” Mary Van asked to reassure herself.
“Dat dey is,” the old nurse’s expression grew fearful and cunning. “Dey’s de wuss sorter hants—dat’s whut dey is.”
This ended the contention of going to Mary Van’s.
“You memb’rs,” she began after an ominous silence, “ole man Gully’s hant, doan yer?”
“Old Langshan rooster, Mammy?” Willis whispered.
“Dat’s de ve’y hant—yas suh—ole lady Gully ain’t skeercely in her grave ’fo’ dat rooster hant start ter gwine down in de cellar—an’ peckin’ ’roun’ like he huntin’ fur sumthin’.
“Abe tell de boys he seen de ole man take er bag er gole down dar onct, an’ he ’speck old Langshan know whar he berry hit—but howsumev’r dat is—one thing wus sho’—dat rooster peck in one cornder er dat celler, tell dem boys pis’n him.”
The children moved closer to Phyllis. “Mammy, did he come back in another rooster?”
“No, ma’m, he didn’t,—he say he nuv’r speck ter come back in no mo’ creeturs ter git pis’n’d ergin. ‘De nex’ time I comes back,’ sez he, ‘hit’s gwine be in sumthin’ nuth’r fokes can’t projick none er der dev’ment wid.’ Ahah,—an’ yer knows whut dat is, doan yer?”
Both little heads shook a trembling negative.
“Well, hit’s er Jack-my-lantern!” said Phyllis, and at her solemn statement the children looked aghast.


