Beadle's Dime Novels No. 33: Maum Guinea and Her Plantation Children — page 76: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

70 MAUM GUINEA. to his treasure; but he had been too sly for them. And here he was now, caught in the sweet trap in this cruel manner. When his companions averred that it was a bee-tree, he groaned more terribly than ever. “Cheer up, Zip,” said Philip, kindly; “you're not killed, by any means; you'll be all‘right in a week or two.” “ Oh, oh, Lordy! ’tain’t dat, massa, I don’ mind de shot so much, dough my shoul’er hurts awful; but dey’ll ’teal all my honey.” ~ “Never mind your honey, my boy. You've paid pretty dear for your bee-tree. Let it go, and be thankful you're not killed outright.” | “Oh, massa, I can’t play de fiddle no more berry soon— can’t play de fiddle on New Year's, nohow; and it hurts awful. But dat ain’t de worst. Oh, masas, wish you'd tell ’em let my bee-tree alone.” — ; “ Well, well, the boys shan’t have your honey. But itll be all gone before you're able to come here again. You'd better be got home now, as soon as possible.” Several of the negroes were obliged to abandon the pleas- ure of capturing the coon, and assist in carrying home poor Zip, whose chief grief was in the discovery of his treasure. “Oh, my bee-tree, my bee-tree! Boys, let my bee-tree alone !” was the burden of his moans, as he was assisted back to his cabin. The party by the shore now hastily broke up; Colonel Fairfax hurrying down to see to the dressing of the negro’s wound, and to send for a surgeon, if necessary. It was high time for the sport to be ended, the hand on the clock telling Sunday morning before any one was in bed. By the flicker- ing fire which faded and expired in intensest darkness, before ‘the gray of dawn took the place of its uncertain glimmey all night, like an animal of the forest, crouched Hyperion. P ‘ COMmnielooOolkS.COnn