Talking Book

My Coachman is a Hoot


The thing here in the south is that people are simple. No one is trying to put on any performances of  class or lineage like in the north – you can know a person’s character by the words he speaks. Take Uncle Julius – he is happy being our coachman and telling us his tales. These are progressive times that we are living in, and Julius, Annie, and I converse essentially as equals. Julius acknowledges that I have been good to him, and that I have taken an interest to the history of these parts. It is unfortunate that he is plagued by this indecipherable colored speech, it is the only reason that I am unable to understand everything that he has to say. Nevertheless,  I know my coachman, he contributes what he can to the growth of my vineyard. Just the other day I heard him talking to his son about working for me. He’s a good man, telling his son to keep his eyes and ears open for tasks that I may have for him.

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