Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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the mark, I tell ye; quick,- straight,- the moment I speak. That’s the way to keep in with me. Ye won’t find no soft spot in me, nowhere. So, now, mind yerselves; for I don’t show no mercy!” The women involuntarily drew in their breath, and the whole gang sat with downcast, dejected faces. Meanwhile, Simon turned on his heel, and marched up to the bar of the boat for a dram. “That’s the way I begin with my niggers,” he said, to a gentlemanly man, who had stood by him during his speech. “It’s my system to begin strong,- just let ‘em know what to expect.” “Indeed!” said the stranger, looking upon him with the curiosity of a naturalist studying some out-of-the-way specimen. “Yes, indeed. I’m none o’ yer gentlemen planters, with lily fingers, to slop round and be cheated by some old cuss of an overseer! Just feel of my knuckles, now; look at my fist. Tell ye, sir, the flesh on’t has come jest like a stone, practis- ing on niggers,- feel on it.” The stranger applied his fingers to the implement in question and simply said, “’Tis hard enough; and, I suppose,” he added, “practice has made your heart just like it.” “Why, yes, I may say so,” said Simon, with a hearty laugh. “I reckon there’s as little soft in me as in any one going. Tell you, nobody comes it over me! Nig- gers never gets round me, neither with squalling nor soft soap,- that’s a fact.” |