“Uncle Stephen, don’t you think I could manage a magazine and put the nicest sort of stories in it?”
“Well, den, what good it gwine ter do you? I wish de one dat ’sploded at Petersbu’g had nuffin in it but stories. Why, honey, it blowed up an’ kilt fo’ thousan’ mules, an’ I dunno how many millions ub solders, an’ de good Lawd only nose how many plantations. Is you got uh pa? Well, chile, you will twiss yo’ po’ pa’s feelin’s sum ub dese days ornless you stop playin’ wid mag-zines.”
“Why, Uncle Stephen, you are too old to have been a soldier in the civil war.”
“Indeed I wuz, honey, an’ I wuz skeer’d stiff! You see dey tuck me ter Easton, gib me toddy, ’fused me, an’ ’swaded me ter go. I’s got uh pension, fuh I drobed uh fo’-hoss mule team fuh six monfs. I didn’ keah fuh de wah; fac’ is, I kep’ ’way fum de battlefields. I wud uh bin uh exerter, but wuz fear’d ter ezert! So I jes’ had ter pine fuh ole mars, ole miss, an’ Sookey. Sookey’s meh wife, an’ she al’ays wid ’em. She use ter look fuh ole mars’ specks, an’ keep de flies of’n ole miss.”
“Uncle Stephen, my magazine is a kind of book that comes out every month and has pretty stories in it, and they tell me that you can tell a pretty story.”
“Heh! heh! heh! mistis, I al’ays know’d I wuz uh qual’ty niggah.”
Deah gre’t gran’ mammy gibs ’em too much cawn-bred, an’ hit natchelly puts noshuns in deah haids.
“So I have brought you a nice bundle of tea, tobacco, and a new straw hat, for I want you to tell me all about yourself and something about Talbot County before the war.”
“Well, I s’pose dey name books arfter mag’zines, kase dey big soun’in’ t’ings? I’s pow’ful bleeged ter you fuh de tea, ’baccy an’ de hat. I’ll hab ter teck dis sweet blue ban’ of’n de hat, kase it will skeer de fish an’ keep ’em fum bitin’. You mus’ be fum de Souf?”