Page:The International Folk-Lore Congress of the World's Columbian Exposition, Chicago, July, 1893.djvu/400

 332 know y'rse'f dars fo' co'nders ter de yearf, Eas', Wes', No'f en den de Sou'f. Yer mus' be pertic'ler in hunt'n ter git de tap root, de one w'ut don tuhn in none dem d'rections but jes goes right straight down inter de yearf. We'n yer fine 't pull 't up 'dout axin' no questions, yer kyarnt break't no ways. Now dis yer mus' steep in er point er fine bran'y. Dis is fer er man's biz'ess en yer mus' wauk 't in dis way. Arf rn 't steep er w'ile jes tek de root 'n wrop't roun' de muscle uv bof e er man's a'ms en he k'n by dis means jum' right inter de street w'uts full uv men en he k'n whup ev'ry one ut 'm, he kin, er fight'n right 'n lef. He kin overcome es many es he's mine t'r cep'n dey hes weepins ter fight wid, dis means 'll overcome any 'mount er muscle. Ef er man puts dis bran'y on he face he k'n go any w'eres en wid any peoples en meet 'm all in peace, hit deman's peace en dar won' nobody say nothin ter 'm but w'ut's peac'ble."

"Den dars er mon'sus cu'ous sump'in but hits ter do wid de ways uv ebilniss en I' se fear'd ter vencher sich, hits heap too barb'rous fer me, I ain' meddle long sich es dat do I knows 't ter be de troof.

"You teks er black cat w'ut ain' got er single w'ite har on 'im en' puts 'im inter er kittle w'uts full o' bilin' water, mindin' dat he mus' go in erlive. Yer better put er powerf u' heavy led on 'cause he's gwine rar' mightily. "Well yer cooks 'm twell he's done so de meat'l drap ofl'n de bones, den yer gits er lookin' glass en yer stan's er look'n right inter 't dout mov'n ner bat 'n yer eye, yer jes' stan's er lookin' in de glass er pick'n er de bones out'n de pot en er pass'n em all froo yer mouf. Yer goes on er pick'n en er pick'n en er th'ow'n uv de bones and de meat 'way twell yer comes 't er little roun' bone bout de size uv er buckshot. Well suz, w'en yer comes ter dat pertic'ler bone, eb'ry thin' roun' yer'l be jes es black en dark es midnight en yer kyarnt see nothin' tall, hit'l be plum dark, but dat bone's w'ut yer bin er wukin' fer. De nex thin' arf er yer fine 't yer mus' wnsh in de name o' de Laud en put dat bone in one jaw wid er little loadstone in de udder. Well, mum, now yer's got ergret mixtry, bout yer, yer kin go any w'ars en wid any peoples, ter be sho, dey kin hyear yer, dey'll hyear er ve'y peculy noise, sorter like er rat mebbe, but dey kyarnt see yer no ways.