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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Frontier Stories"


"And after we've done _that_ we must kalkilate what Rosey _is_, and
what Rosey wants. P'r'aps, ye allow, _you_ know what Rosey is? P'r'aps
you've seen her prance round in velvet bonnets and white satin
slippers, and sich. P'r'aps you've seen her readin' tracks and v'yages,
without waitin' to spell a word, or catch her breath. But that ain't
the Rosey ez _I_ knows. It's a little child ez uster crawl in and out
the tail-board of a Mizzouri wagon on the alcali-pizoned plains, where
there wasn't another bit of God's mercy on yearth to be seen for miles
and miles. It's a little gal as uster hunger and thirst ez quiet and
mannerly ez she now eats and drinks in plenty; whose voice was ez
steady with Injins yellin' round yer nest in the leaves on Sweetwater
ez in her purty cabin up yonder. _That's_ the gal ez I knows! That's
the Rosey ez my ole woman puts into my arms one night arter we left
Laramie when the fever was high, and sez, 'Abner,' sez she, 'the
chariot is swingin' low for me to-night, but thar ain't room in it for
her or you to git in or hitch on.


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