I used to want to see Polly putty bad once in a while, an' used to figure that if I ever growed up to be a man, an' had money enough, I'd buy her a new pair o' shoes an' the stuff fer a dress, an' sometimes my cal'lations went as fur 's a gold breastpin; but I never wanted to see none o' the rest on 'em, an' fer that matter, I never did.

Yes, sir, the old ditch was better to me than the place I was borned in, an', as you say, I wa'n't nobody's slave, an' I wa'n't scairt to death the hull time.

Some o' the men was rough, but they wa'n't cruel, as a rule, an' as I growed up a little I was putty well able to look out fer myself--wa'al, wa'al (looking at his watch), I guess you must 'a' had enough o' my meemores fer one sittin'." "No, really," John protested, "don't go yet.

I have a little proposal to make to you," and he got up and brought a bottle from the bottom of the washstand.
"Wa'al," said David, "fire it out." "That you take another cigar and a little of this," holding up the bottle.
"Got any glasses ?" asked David with practical mind.
"One and a tooth mug," replied John, laughing.

"Glass for you, tooth mug for me.