On the station platform of a littlt Georgia village, a friend of ours recently ran into an old darkey standing zealous guard over a dilapidated crata housing an ancient billv goat; Tha goat was methodically chewing upon what seemed to be a pieca of stiff paper. The gentleman spoke to the darkey: “Hello, Sam.” “ Tuss, suh, mawnin’ suh.” “Where are you sending the goat, Sam?” “I doan know, boss; he done et up the plac* whah he goip’ at.” ...
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ESD19350719.2.92
Bibliographic details
Evening Star, Issue 22085, 19 July 1935, Page 7
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79Untitled Evening Star, Issue 22085, 19 July 1935, Page 7
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