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“But hang it, Jim, you’ve clean missed the point—blame it, you’ve missed
it a thousand mile.”
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“But, man, Jim. You missed the whole point—missed it by a thousand
miles.”
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“Who? Me? Go ’long. Doan’ talk to me ’bout yo’ pints. I reck’n I knows
sense when I sees it; en dey ain’ no sense in sich doin’s as dat. De ’spute
warn’t ’bout a half a chile, de ’spute was ’bout a whole chile; en de man
dat think he kin settle a ’spute ’bout a whole chile wid a half a chile
doan’ know enough to come in out’n de rain. Doan’ talk to me ’bout
Sollermun, Huck, I knows him by de back.”
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“Who? Me? Get outta here. Don’t talk to me about your points. I imagine I
know common sense when I see it, and there isn’t any sense in that. The
women’s dispute wasn’t about half a child, it was about a whole child. And
any man who thinks he can settle a dispute about a whole child by giving a
woman half a child wouldn’t be smart enough to know to come inside when it
rains. Don’t talk to man any more about Solomon, Huck. I know enough
already.”
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“But I tell you you don’t get the point.”
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“But I’m telling you you’re not getting the point.”
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“Blame de point! I reck’n I knows what I knows. En mine you, de REAL pint
is down furder—it’s down deeper. It lays in de way Sollermun was raised. You
take a man dat’s got on’y one or two chillen; is dat man gwyne to be waseful
o’ chillen? No, he ain’t; he can’t ’ford it. HE know how to value ’em. But
you take a man dat’s got ’bout five million chillen runnin’ roun’ de house,
en it’s diffunt. HE as soon chop a chile in two as a cat. Dey’s plenty mo’.
A chile er two, mo’ er less, warn’t no consekens to Sollermun, dad fatch
him!”
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“Damn the point! I know what I know. Besides, the real point is even
deeper than that. It all goes back to the way Solomon was raised. For
example, take a man who’s got only one or two children. Is that man going to
be wasteful with kids? No, he isn’t—he can’t afford to be. He knows the
value of a child. But it’s different with a man who’s got about five million
children running around the house. HE would just as soon chop a child in two
as he would a cat, since he has plenty of other kids. A child or two aren’t
that important to Solomon, darn it.”
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I never see such a nigger. If he got a notion in his head once, there
warn’t no getting it out again. He was the most down on Solomon of any
nigger I ever see. So I went to talking about other kings, and let Solomon
slide. I told about Louis Sixteenth that got his head cut off in France long
time ago; and about his little boy the dolphin, that would a been a king,
but they took and shut him up in jail, and some say he died there.
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I never saw such a n-----. Once he got an idea in his head, there was no
use trying to get it out. He disliked Solomon more than any other n----- I
ever knew. So I dropped the topic of Solomon and started talking about other
kings. I told him about Louis XVI, who got his head chopped off in France a
long time ago. And I talked about his son, the dolphin, who would have been king if he hadn’t been shut up in jail. Some
say he died there.
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“Po’ little chap.”
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“Poor little kid.”
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“But some says he got out and got away, and come to America.”
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“But others say he escaped and came to America.”
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“Dat’s good! But he’ll be pooty lonesome—dey ain’ no kings here, is dey,
Huck?”
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“Well that’s good! But he’ll be pretty lonesome here. There aren’t any
kings here, are there, Huck?”
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“No.”
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“No.”
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“Den he cain’t git no situation. What he gwyne to do?”
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“Then he can’t go back to the way of life he’s used to. What’s he going to
do?”
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“Well, I don’t know. Some of them gets on the police, and some of them
learns people how to talk French.”
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“Well, I don’t know. Some of them become policemen and others teach people
how to speak French.”
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“Why, Huck, doan’ de French people talk de same way we does?”
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“What do you mean, Huck? Don’t the French people talk the same way we
do?”
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“NO, Jim; you couldn’t understand a word they said—not a single
word.”
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“NO, Jim. You can’t understand a word the French say. Not a single
word.”
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“Well, now, I be ding-busted! How do dat come?”
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“Well I’ll be damned! How did that come to be?”
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“I don’t know; but it’s so. I got some of their jabber out of a book.
S’pose a man was to come to you and say Polly-voo-franzy—what would you
think?”
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“I don’t know, but it’s true. I learned some of their nonsense out of a
book. Suppose a man came up to you and said, Polly voo franzy. What would
you think about that?”
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“I wouldn’ think nuff’n; I’d take en bust him over de head—dat is, if he
warn’t white. I wouldn’t ’low no nigger to call me dat.”
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“I wouldn’t think at all. I’d hit him over the head—if he’s not a white
man, that is. I wouldn’t allow a n----- to call me a name like that.”
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“Shucks, it ain’t calling you anything. It’s only saying, do you know how
to talk French?”
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“Shucks, Jim. He wouldn’t be calling you a name. He’d only be saying, ‘Do
you speak French?’”
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“Well, den, why couldn’t he SAY it?”
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“Well then why wouldn’t he just SAY that?”
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“Why, he IS a-saying it. That’s a Frenchman’s WAY of saying it.”
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“But he IS saying that. That’s the way a Frenchman says it.”
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“Well, it’s a blame ridicklous way, en I doan’ want to hear no mo’ ’bout
it. Dey ain’ no sense in it.”
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“Well, he’s got a pretty ridiculous way of talking then. And I don’t want
to hear any more about it. It doesn’t make any sense.”
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“Looky here, Jim; does a cat talk like we do?”
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“Look, Jim. Does a cat talk like we do?”
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“No, a cat don’t.”
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“No, a cat doesn’t.”
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“Well, does a cow?”
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“Well, does a cow talk like we do?”
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“No, a cow don’t, nuther.”
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“No, a cow doesn’t either.”
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“Does a cat talk like a cow, or a cow talk like a cat?”
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“Does a cat talk like a cow? Does a cow talk like a cat?”
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“No, dey don’t.”
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“No, they don’t.”
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“It’s natural and right for ’em to talk different from each other, ain’t
it?”
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“Isn’t it natural and proper that they talk differently than each
other?”
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“Course.”
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“Of course.”
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“And ain’t it natural and right for a cat and a cow to talk different from
US?”
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“And isn’t it natural and proper that a cat and cow talk differently from
humans?”
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“Why, mos’ sholy it is.”
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“Why, of course it is.”
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“Well, then, why ain’t it natural and right for a FRENCHMAN to talk
different from us? You answer me that.”
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“Well then, why isn’t it natural and proper for a Frenchman to talk
differently than us? Answer me that.”
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“Is a cat a man, Huck?”
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“Is a cat a man, Huck?”
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“No.”
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“No.”
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“Well, den, dey ain’t no sense in a cat talkin’ like a man. Is a cow a
man?—er is a cow a cat?”
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“Well then, it wouldn’t make any sense for a cat to talk like a man. Is a
cow a man? I mean, is a cow a cat?”
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“No, she ain’t either of them.”
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“No, a cow is neither a man nor a cat.”
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“Well, den, she ain’t got no business to talk like either one er the
yuther of ’em. Is a Frenchman a man?”
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“Well then, a cow’s got no business talking like either one of them. Is a
Frenchman a man?”
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“Yes.”
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“Yes.”
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“WELL, den! Dad blame it, why doan’ he TALK like a man? You answer me
DAT!”
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“Well, there you go! Darn it, then why doesn’t a Frenchman TALK like a
man? Answer me THAT!”
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I see it warn’t no use wasting words—you can’t learn a nigger to argue. So
I quit.
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I saw it was no use wasting words—you can’t teach a n----- how to argue.
So I quit.
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