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"That is a bad name for this child," said the octoroon, shaking his head. "Are you the son of Colonel Passford?"

āļĒāļīāļ‡ āļ›āļĨāļē āđ€āļ„āļĢāļ”āļīāļ• āļŸāļĢāļĩ āđ„āļĄāđˆ āļ•āđ‰āļ­āļ‡ āļāļēāļ 2020 "I heard men's voices off to the eastward," said this man, when he had mounted the bridge, and touched his hat to the officers there; and he spoke in a whisper, in conformity with the orders given. "I have, captain," replied Christy, bowing respectfully. "Perhaps we are; but you talk too much by 144 half, Passford, and I have been dreading that you would make a slip of some kind," replied Mr. Galvinne rather crustily. "You were as stupid as a Kentucky mule when you stopped to talk with Byron in the waist." "Yes, sar; de oberseer's sick abed, and dis nigger go right in like massa hisself," replied Job, as he led the way in the direction of the planter's house. "Sea-sick! No, sir; I believe I never was sea-sick in my life." "Don't blame him, Captain Passford, for it was not his fault that he did not announce my presence to you. He wished to do so, but I assured him I was not disposed to disturb you, for you must be occupied with your own affairs, and I persuaded him not to go for you," added the person with perfect self-possession.

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