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i 
 
 " I ain't fergot dat ar 'possum." 
 
i 
 
 ^ 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF 
 AUNT MINER VY ANN 
 
 BY 
 
 JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 
 A. B. FROST 
 
 TORONTO: 
 
 WILLIAM BRIGGS, 
 
 1899. 
 
6.?b^c 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. An Evening with the Ku-Klux .... i 
 11. " When Jess went a-fiddlin' " 34 
 
 III. How Aunt Minervy Ann Ran Away and 
 
 Ran Back Again 70 
 
 IV. How She Joined the Georgia Legislature . 97 
 
 V. How She Went Into Business 119 
 
 VI. How She and Major Perdue Frailed Out 
 
 the Gossett Boys 439 
 
 VII. Major Perdue's Bargain 157 
 
 VIII. The Case of Mary Ellen 132 
 
 m *1 
 li 
 
. t , 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF 
 AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 
 '• 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 The happiest, the most vivid, and certainly the 
 most critical period of a man's life is combined in 
 the years that stretch between sixteen and twenty- 
 two. His responsibilities do not sit heavily on him, 
 he has hardly begun to realize them, and yet he has 
 begun to see and feel, to observe and absorb; he is 
 for once and for the last time an interested, and yet 
 an irresponsible, spectator of the passing show. 
 
 This period I had passed very pleasantly, if not 
 profitably, at Halcyondale in Middle Georgia, di- 
 rectly after the great war, and the town and the 
 people there had a place apart, in my mind. When, 
 therefore, some ten years after leaving there, I re- 
 ceived a cordial invitation to attend the county fair, 
 which had been organized by some of the enterpris- 
 ing spirits of the town and county, among whom 
 
 1 
 
THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 were Paul Conant and his father-in-law, Major 
 Tumlin Perdue, it was natural that the fact should 
 revive old memories. 
 
 The most persistent of these memories were those 
 which clustered around Major Perdue, his daughter 
 Vailie, and his brother-in-law. Colonel Bolivar 
 Blasengame, and Aunt Minervy Ann Perdue. 
 Curiously enough, my recollection of this negro 
 woman was the most persistent of all. Her individ- 
 uality seemed to stand out more vitally than the rest. 
 She was what is called " a character," and something 
 more besides. The truth is, I should have missed a 
 good deal if I had never known Aunt Minervy Ann 
 Perdue, who, as she described herself, was " Affikin 
 fum Vay back yander 'fo' de flood, an' fum de 
 word go " — a fact which seriously interferes with 
 the somewhat complacent theory that Ham, son of 
 Noah, was th'B original negro. 
 
 It is a fact that Aunt Minervy Ann's great-grand- 
 mother, who lived to be a hundred and twenty years 
 old, had an eagle tattooed on her breast, the mark 
 of royalty. The brother of this princess, Qua, who 
 died in Augusta at the age of one hundmd years, had 
 two eagles tattooed on his breast. This, taken in 
 connection with his name, which means The Eagle, 
 shows that he was either the ruler of his tribe or 
 
AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 the heir apparent. The prince and princess were 
 very small, compared with the average African, but 
 the records kept by a member of the Clopton family 
 show that during the Revolution Qua performed 
 some wonderful feats, and went through some 
 strange adventures in behalf of liberty. He was in 
 his element when war was at its hottest — and it has 
 never been hotter in any age or time, or in any part 
 of the world, savage or civilized, than it was then 
 in the section of Georgia now comprised in the 
 counties of Burke, Columbia, Richmond, and El- 
 bert. 
 
 However, that has nothing to do with Aunt Mi- 
 nervy Ann Perdue ; but her relationship to Qua and 
 to the royal family of his tribe, remote though it 
 was, accounted for the most prominent traits of her 
 character, and many contradictory elements of her 
 strong and sharply defined individuality. She had 
 a bad temper, and was both fierce and fearless when 
 it was aroused; but it was accompanied by a heart 
 as tender and a devotion as unselfish as any mortal 
 ever possessed or displayed. Her temper was more 
 widely advertised than her tenderness, and her inde- 
 pendence more clearly in evidence than her un- 
 selfish devotion, except to those who knew her well 
 or intimately. 
 
 .1 i 
 
 !i 1 
 
 .A^ 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 And 80 it happened that Aunt Minervy Ann, 
 after freedom gave her the privilege of showing her 
 extraordinary qualities of self-sacrifice, walked 
 about in the midst of the suspicion and distrust of 
 her own race, and was followed by the misappre- 
 hensions and misconceptions of many of the whites. 
 She knew the situation and laughed at it, and if she 
 wasn't proud of it her attitude belied her. 
 
 It was at the moment of transition from the old 
 conditions to the new that I had known Aunt Mi- 
 nervy Ann and the persons in whom she was so pro- 
 foundly interested, and she and they, as I have said, 
 had a place apart in my memory and experience, 
 I also remembered Hamp, Aunt Minervy Ann's hus- 
 band, and the queer contrast between the two. It 
 was mainly on account of Hamp, perhaps, that Aunt 
 Minervy Ann was led to take such a friendly in- 
 terest in the somewhat lonely youth who was editor, 
 compositor, and pressman of Halcyondale's ambi- 
 tious weekly newspaper in the days following the 
 collapse of the confederacy. 
 
 When a slave, Hamp had belonged to an estate 
 which was in the hands of the Court of Ordinary 
 (or, as it was then called, the Inferior Court), to be 
 administered in the interest of minor heirs. This 
 was not a fortunate thing for the negroes, of which 
 
 I 
 
AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 there were above one hundred and fift/. Men, 
 women, and children were hired out, some far and 
 tome near. They came back home at Chrietmas- 
 time, enjoyed a week'i frolic, and were then hired 
 out again, perhaps to new employers. But whether 
 to new or old, it is certain that hired hands in those 
 days did not receive the consideration that men gave 
 to their own negroes. 
 
 This experience told heavily on Hamp's mind. 
 It made him reserved, suspicious, and antagonistic. 
 
 He had few pleasant memories to fall back on, and 
 these were of the days of his early youth, when he 
 used to trot around holding to his old master's coat- 
 tails — the kind old master who had finally been sent 
 to the insane asylum. Hamp never got over the idea 
 (he had heard some of the older negroes talking 
 about it) that his old master had been judged to be 
 crazy simply because he was unusually kind to his 
 negroes, especially the little ones. Hamp's after- 
 experience seemed to prove this, for he received 
 small share of kindness, as well as scrimped rations, 
 from the majority of those who hired him. 
 
 It was a very good thing for Hamp that he mar- 
 ried Aunt Minervy Ann, otherwise he would have 
 become a wanderer and a vagabond when freedom 
 
 came. It was a fate he didn't miss a hair's breadth; 
 
 6 
 
 I 
 
 
THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 he " broke loose," as he described it, and went * ff, 
 but finally came back and tried in vain to persuade 
 Aunt Minervy Ann to leave Major Perdue. He 
 finally settled down, but acquired no very friendly 
 feelings toward the white race. 
 
 He joined the secret political societies, strangely 
 called '^ Union Leagues," and aided in disseminat 
 ing the belief that the whites were only awaiting a 
 favorable opportunity to re-enslave his race. He 
 was only repeating what the carpet-baggers had told 
 him. Perhaps he believed the statement- perhaps 
 not. At any rate, he repeated it fervently and fre- 
 quently, and soon came to be the recognized leader 
 of the negroes in the county of which Halcyondale 
 was the capital. That is to say, the leaderof all ex- 
 cept one. At church one Sunday night some of the 
 brethren congratulated Aunt Minervy Ann on the 
 fact that Hamp was now the leader of the colored 
 people in that region. 
 
 " What colored people? " Snapped Aunt Minervy 
 Ann. 
 
 " We-all," responded a deacon, emphatically. 
 
 " Well, he can't lead me, I'll tell you dat right 
 now! " exclaimed Aunt Minervy Ann. 
 
 Anyhow, when the time came to elect members 
 of the Legislature (the constitutional conventioa 
 
 
 
.NN 
 
 int * fif, 
 rsuade * 
 ). He 
 dendly 
 
 •angely 
 eminat 
 Eiiting a 
 le. He 
 lad told 
 perhaps 
 and f re- 
 i leader 
 yondale 
 f all ex- 
 e of the 
 on the 
 colored 
 
 ilinervy 
 
 ally. 
 
 at right 
 
 nembers 
 ivention 
 
 AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 had already been held), Hamp was chosen to be the 
 candidate of the negro Eepublicans. A white man 
 wanted to run, but the negroes said they preferred 
 their own color, and they had their v/ay. They had 
 their way at the polls, too, for, as nearly all the 
 whites who would have voted had served in the 
 Confederate army, they were at that time disfran- 
 chised. 
 
 So Hamp was elected overwhelmingly, "wor? 
 widout een'," as lie put it, and the effect it had on 
 him was a perfect illustration of one aspect of hu- 
 man nature. Before and during the election (which 
 lasted three days) Hamp had been going around 
 puffed up with importance. He wore a blue army 
 overcoat and a stove-pipe hat, and went about smok- 
 ing a big cigar. When the election was over, and 
 he was declared the choice of the county, he col- 
 lapsed. His dignity all disappeared. His air of 
 self-importance and confidence deserted him. His 
 responsibilities seemed to weigh him down. 
 
 He had once " rolled " in the little printing-office 
 where the machinery consisted of a No. 2 Wash- 
 ington hand-press, a wooden imposing-stone, three 
 .lands for the cases, a rickety table for " wetting 
 down " the paper, and a tub in which to wash the 
 
 forms. This office chanced to be my headquarters, 
 
 7 
 
\ 
 
 'HE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 and the day after the election I was somewhat sur- 
 prised to see Hamp saunter in. So was Majoi* Tum- 
 lin Perdue, who was reading the exchanges. 
 
 " He's come to demand a retraction," remarked 
 the Major, " and you'll have to set him right. He's 
 no longer plain Hamp; he's the Hon. Hamp — 
 what's your other name? " turning to the negro. 
 
 "Hamp Tumlin my fergiven name, suh. I 
 thought 'Nervy Ann tol' you dat." 
 
 " Why, who named you after me? " inquired the 
 Major, somewhat angrily. 
 
 " Me an' 'Nervy Ai^n fix it up, suh. She say it's 
 about de purtiest name in town." 
 
 The Major melted a little, but his bristles rose 
 again, as it were. 
 
 " Look here, Hamp ! " he exclaimed in a tone that 
 nobody ever forgot or misinterpreted; '* don't you 
 go and stick Perdue onto it. I won't stand 
 that! " 
 
 " No, suh! " responded Hamp. " I started ter do 
 it, but 'Nervy Ann say she ain't gwiae'ter have de 
 Perdue name bandied about up dar v/har de Legis- 
 latur's at." 
 
 Again the Major thawed, and "^hough he looked 
 long at Hamp it was with friendly eyes. He seemed 
 to be studying the negro — " sizing him up," as the 
 
AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 saying is. For a newly elected member of tho Leg- 
 islature, Hamp seemed to take a great deal of in- 
 terest in the old duties he once performed about the 
 office. He went first to the box in which the " roll- 
 er " was kept, and felt of its surface carefully. 
 
 " You'll hatter have a bran new roller 'fo' de 
 mont's out," he said, " an' I won't be here to he'p 
 you make it." 
 
 Then he went to the roller-frame, turned the 
 handle, and looked at the wooden cylinders. " Dey 
 don't look atter it lik^s I use ter, suh; an' dish yer 
 frame monst'us shackly." 
 
 From there he passed to the forms where the ad- 
 vertisements remained standing. He passed his 
 thumb over the type and looked at it critically. 
 " Dey er mighty skeer'd dey'll git all de ink off," 
 was his comment. Do what he would, Hamp 
 couldn't hide his embarrassment. 
 
 Meanwhile, Major Perdue scratched off a few 
 lines in pencil. " I wish you'd get this in Tuesday's 
 paper," he said. Then he read: " The Hon. Hamp- 
 ton Tumlin, recertly elected a member of the Legis- 
 lature, paid us a pop-call last Saturday. We are al- 
 ways pleased to meet our distinguished fellow-towns- 
 man and representative. We trust Hon. Hampton 
 
 Tumlin will call again when the Ku-Klux are in." 
 
 9 
 
 M 
 
 i 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 " Why, certainly," said I, humoring the joke. 
 
 " Sholy you-all ain't gwine put dat in de paper, is 
 you? " inquired Ilamp, in amazement. 
 
 " Of course," replied the Major; " why not? " 
 
 " Kaze, ef you does, I'm a mint nigger. Ef 
 'Nervy Ann hear talk 'bout my name an' entitle- 
 ments bein' in de paper, she'll quit me sho. Uh-uhl 
 I'm gwine 'way fum here! " With that Hamp 
 bowed and disappeared. The Major chuckled over 
 his little joke, but soon returned to his newspaper. 
 For a quarter of &n hour there was absolute quiet in 
 the room, and, as it seemed, in the entire building, 
 which was a brick structure of two stories, the stair- 
 way being in the centre. The hallway was, perhaps, 
 seventy-five feet long, and on each side, at regular 
 intervals, there were four rooms, making eight in all, 
 and, with one exception, varicusly occupied as law- 
 yers' ofiices or sleeping apartments, the exception 
 being the printing-ofiice in whi'ch Major Perdue and 
 I were sitting. This was at the extreme rear of the 
 hallway. 
 
 I had frequently been struck by the acoustic prop- 
 erties of this hallway. A conversation carried on in 
 ordinary tones in the printing-office could hardly be 
 heard in the adjoining room. Transferred to the 
 
 front rooms, however, or even to the sidewalk fac- 
 
 10 
 
I 
 
 "Sholy you-all ain't gwine put dat in de paper, is you?" 
 
 i 
 
n 
 
 ■ 
 
 u 
 
 y 
 
AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 : 
 
 i 
 
 ing the entrance to the stairway, the lightest tone 
 was magnified in volume. A German professor of 
 music, who for a time occupied the apartment oppo- 
 site the printing-office, was so harassed by the thun- 
 derous sounds of laughter and conversation rolling 
 back upon him that he tried to remedy the matter 
 by nailing two thicknesses of bagging along the floor 
 from the stairway to the rear window. This was, 
 indeed, something of a help, but when the German 
 left, being of an economical turn of mind, he took 
 his bagging away with him, and once more the hall- 
 way was torn and rent, as you may say, with the 
 lightest whisper. 
 
 Thus it happened that, while the Major and I 
 were sitting enjoying an extraordinary season of 
 calm, suddenly there came a thundering sound from 
 the stairway. A troop of horse could hardly have 
 made a greater uproar, and yet I knew that fewer 
 than half a dozen people were ascending the steps. 
 Some one stumbled and caught himself, and the 
 multiplied and magnified reverberations were f^s 
 loud as if the roof had caved in, carrying the better 
 part of the structure with it. Some one laughed 
 at the misstep, and the sound came to our ears with 
 the deafening effect of an explosion, he party filed 
 with a dull roar into one of the front rooms, the 
 
 11 
 
 m 
 
< 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINEIIVY ANN 
 
 office of a harum-scarum young lawyer who had 
 more empty bottles behind his door than he had 
 ever had briefs on his desk. 
 
 " Well, the great Gemini I " exclaimed Major 
 Perdue, " how do you manage to stand that sort of 
 thing? " 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders and laughed, and was 
 about to begin anew a very old tirade against caves 
 and halls of thunder, when the Major raised a warn- 
 ing hand. Some one was saying 
 
 " He hangs out right on ol' Major Perdue's lot. 
 He's got a wife there." 
 
 " By jingl " exclaimed another voice; " is that 
 so? Well, I don't wanter git mixed up wi' the 
 Major. He may be wobbly on his legs, but I don't 
 wanter be the one to run up ag'in 'im." 
 
 The Major pursed up his lips and looked at the 
 ceiling, his attitude being one of rapt attention. 
 
 " Shucks! " cried another; " by the time the ol' 
 cock gits his bellyful of dram, thunder wouldn't 
 roust 'im." 
 
 A shrewd, foxy, almost sinister expression came 
 
 over the Major's rosy face as he glanced at me. His 
 
 left hand went to his goatee, an invariable signal of 
 
 deep feeling, such as anger, grief, or serious trouble. 
 
 Another voice broke in here, a voice that we both 
 
 12 
 
 f* 
 
 „ 
 
AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 • 
 
 knew to be that of Larry Pulliam, a big Kentuckiau 
 who had refugeed to Halcyondale during the war. 
 
 "Blast it all!" exclaimed Larry Pulliam, "I 
 hope the Major will come out. Me an' him hain't 
 never butted heads yit, an' it's gittin' high time. Ef 
 he comes oi . , you fellers jest go ahead with your rat- 
 killin'. 7'irten'tohim." 
 
 " Why, you'd make two of him, Pulliam," said 
 the young lawyer. 
 
 " Oh, I'll not hurt 'im; that is, not much — jest 
 enough to let 'im know I'm livin' in the same vil- 
 lage," replied Mr. Pulliam. The voice of the town 
 bull could not have had a more terrifying sound. 
 
 Glancing at the Major, I saw that he had entirely 
 recovered his equanimity. More than that, a smile 
 of sweet satisfaction and contentment settled on his 
 rosy face, and stayed there. 
 
 " I wouldn't take a hundred dollars for that last 
 
 remark," whispered the Major. " That chap's been 
 
 a-raisin' his hackle at me ever since he's been here, 
 
 and every time I try to get him to make a flutter he's 
 
 off and gone. Of course it wouldn't do for me to 
 
 push a row on him just dry so. But now " The 
 
 Major laughed softly, rubbed his hands together, 
 
 and seemed to be as happy as a child with a new toj. 
 
 " My son," said he after awhile, " ain't there 
 
 18 
 
I 
 
 f 
 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 Bomo way of finding out who the other fellows are? 
 Ain't you got some word you want Scab Griffin " — 
 this was the young lawyer — " to spell for you? " 
 
 Spelling was the Major's weakness. He was a 
 well-educated man, and could write vigorous Eng^ 
 lish, but only a few days before he had asked me how 
 many fa there are in graphic. 
 
 " Let's see," ho went on, rubbing the top of his 
 head. " Do you spell Byzantium with two y\ or 
 with two i's, or with one y and one i? It'll make 
 Scab feel right good to be asked that before com- 
 pany, and he certainly needs to feel good if he's go- 
 ing with that crowd." 
 
 So, with a manuscript copy in my hand, I went 
 hurriedly down the hall and put the important ques- 
 tion. Mr. Griffin was all politeness, but not quite 
 sure of the facts in the case. But he searched in his 
 books of reference, including the Geographical Ga- 
 zette, until finally he was able to give me the in- 
 formation I was supposed to stand in need of. 
 
 While he was searching, Mr. Pulliam turned to 
 me and inquired what day the paper came out. 
 When told that the date was Tuesday, he smiled and 
 nodded his head mysteriously. 
 
 " That's good," he declared; " you'll be in time 
 
 to ketch the news." 
 
 14 
 
 \ 
 
1 
 
 i 
 
 AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 " What news? " I inquired. 
 
 " Well, ef you don't hear about it before to-mor- 
 rer night, jest inquire of Major Perdue. He'll tell 
 you all about it." 
 
 Mr. Pulliam's tone was so supercilious that I was 
 afraid the Major would lose his temper and come 
 raging down the hallway. But he did nothing of 
 the kind. When I returned he was fairly beaming, 
 and seemed to be perfectly happy. The Major took 
 down the names in his note-book — I have forgotten 
 all except those of Buck Sanford and Larry PuU- 
 iam; they were all from the country except Larry 
 PuUiam and the young lawyer. 
 
 After my visit to the room, the men spoke in 
 lower tones, but every word came back to us as dis- 
 tinctly as before. 
 
 " The feed of the horses won't cost us a cent," re- 
 marked young Sanford. " Tom Gresham said he'd 
 'ten' to that. They're in the stable right now. And 
 we're to have supper in Tom's back room, have a 
 little game of ante, and along about twelve or one 
 we'll sa'nter down and yank that darned nigger 
 from betwixt his blankets, ef he's got any, and leave 
 him to cool off at the cross-roads. Won't you go 
 'long, Scab, and see it well done? " 
 
 " I'll go and see if the supper's well done, and I'll 
 
 15 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINEUVY ANN 
 
 take a sliy at your anto," replied Mr. Griffin. " But 
 when it comes to the balance of the programme — 
 well, I'm a lawyer, you know, and you couldn't ex- 
 pect me to witness the affair. I might have to take 
 your cases and prove an alibi, you know, and I 
 couldn't conscientiously do that if I was on hand at 
 the time." 
 
 " The Ku-Klux don't have to have alibis," sug- 
 gested Larry Pulliam. 
 
 " Perhaps not, still — " Apparently Mr. Griffin 
 disposed of the matter with a gesture. 
 
 When all the details of their plan had been care- 
 fully arranged, the amateur Ku-Klux went filing 
 out, the ''oise they made dying away like the echoes 
 of a storm. 
 
 Major Perdue leaned his head against the back of 
 his chair, closed his eyes, and sat there so quietly that 
 I thought he was asleep. But this was a mistake. 
 Suddenly he began to laugh, and he laughed until 
 the tears ran down his face. It was laughter that 
 was contagious, and presently I found myself join- 
 ing in without knowing why. This started the Ma- 
 jor afresh, and we both laughed until exhaustion 
 came to our aid. 
 
 " O Lord! " cried the Major, panting, " I haven't 
 
 had as much fun since the war, and a long time be- 
 
 16 
 
 ^ 
 
 I 
 
I 
 
 1 
 
 AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 foro. That blamed Pulliam is going to walk into a 
 trap of his own setting. Now you jest watch how he 
 goes out ag'in." 
 
 " But I'll not bo there," I suggested. 
 
 " Oh, yes I " exclaimed the Major, " you can't af- 
 ford to miss it. It'll be the finest piece of news your 
 paper ever had. You'll go to supper with me — " 
 He paused. " No, I'll go home, send Valentine to 
 her Aunt Emmy's, get Blasengame to come around, 
 and we'll have supper about nine. That'll fix it. 
 Some of them chaps might have an eye on my house, 
 and I don't want 'em to see anybody but n^e go in 
 there. Now, if you don't come at nine, I'll send 
 Blasengame after you." 
 
 " I shall be glad to come, Major. I was simply 
 fishing for an invitation." 
 
 " That fish is always on your hook, and you know 
 it," the Major insisted. 
 
 As it was arranged, so it fell out. At nine, I 
 lifted and dropped the knocker on the Major's front 
 door. It opened so promptly that I was somewhat 
 taken by surprise, but in a moment the hand of my 
 host was on my arm, and he pulled me inside un- 
 ceremoniously. 
 
 " I was on the lookout," the Major explained. 
 
 " Minervy Ann has fixed to have waffles, and she's 
 
 17 
 
 i 
 
i 
 
 \' 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 crazy about havin' 'em just right. If she waits too 
 long to make 'em, the batter'U spoil; and if she puts 
 'em on before everybody's ready, they won't be 
 good. That's what she says. Here he is, you old 
 Hessian! " the Major cried, as Minervy Ann peeped 
 in from the dining-room. " Now slap that supper 
 together and let's get at it." 
 
 " I'm mighty glad you come, suh," said Aunt 
 Minervy Ann, with a courtesy and a smile, and then 
 she disappeared. In an incredibly short time sup- 
 per was announced, and though Aunt Minervy has 
 since informed me confidentially that the Perdues 
 were having a hard time of it at that period, I'll do 
 her the justice to say that the supper she furnished 
 forth was as good as any to be had in that town — 
 waffles, beat biscuit, fried chicken, buttermilk, and 
 coffee that could not be surpassed. 
 
 " How about the biscuit, Minervy Ann? " in- 
 quired Colonel Blasengame, who was the Major's 
 brother-in-law, and therefore one of the family. 
 
 " I turned de dough on de block twelve times, an' 
 hit it a hundred an forty-sev'm licks," replied Aunt 
 Minervy Ann. 
 
 " I'm afeard you hit it one lick too many," said 
 
 Colonel Blasengame, winking at me. 
 
 " Well, suh, I been hittin' dat away a mighty 
 
 18 
 
 i 
 
 - V 
 
AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 y 
 
 ' f 
 
 Icag time," Aunt Minervy Ann explained, " and I 
 ain't never hear no complaints." 
 
 " Oh, I'm not complainin', Minervy Ann." Col- 
 onel Blasengame waved his hand. "I'm mighty 
 glad you did hit the dough a lick too many. If you 
 hadn't, the biscuit would 'a' melted in my mouth, 
 and I believe I'd rather chew on 'em to get the 
 taste." 
 
 "He des runnin' on, suh," said Aunt Minervy 
 Ann to me. " Marse Bolivar know mighty well 
 dat he got ter go 'way fum de N united State f er ter 
 git any better biscuits dan what I kin bake." 
 
 Then there was a long pause, which was broken 
 by an attempt on the part of Major Perdue to give 
 Aunt Minervy Ann an inkling of the events likely 
 to happen during the night. She seemed to be 
 both hard of hearing and dull of understanding 
 when the subject was broached ; or she may have 
 suspected the Major was joking or trying to " run 
 a rig" on her. Her questions and comments, 
 however, were very characteristic. 
 
 " I dunner what dey want wid Hamp," she said. 
 " Ef dey know'd how no-count he is, dey'd let 'im 
 'lone. What dey want wid 'im ? " 
 
 "Well, two or three of the country boys and may- 
 be some of the town chaps are going to call on him 
 
 19 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 i 
 ■; I 
 
 lil 
 !i 
 
 between midnight and day. They went to take him 
 out to the cross-roads. Hadn't you better fix 'em up 
 a little snack ? Hamp won't want anything, but the 
 boys will feel a little hungry after the job is over." 
 
 " Nobody ain't never tell me dat de Legislatur' 
 wuz like de Free Masons, whardey have ter ride a 
 billy goat an' go down in a dry well wid de chains 
 a-clankin'. I done tol' Hamp dat he better not fool 
 wid white folks' doin's." 
 
 " Only the colored members have to be initiated," 
 explained the Major, solemnly. 
 
 " What does they do wid um ? " inquired Aunt 
 Minervy Ann. 
 
 " Well," replied the Major," they take 'em out 
 to the nearest cross-roads, put ropes around their 
 necks, run the ropes over limbs, and pull away as if 
 they were drawing water from a well." 
 
 " What dey do dat fer ? " asked Aunt Minervy 
 Ann, apparently still oblivious to the meaning of it 
 all. 
 
 " They wan't to see which'U break first, the ropes 
 or the necks," the Major explained. 
 
 "Ef dey takes Hamp out," remarked Aunt Mi- 
 nervy Ann, tentatively — feeling her way, as it were 
 — ' what time will he come back ? " 
 
 •'You've heard about the Resurrection Mom, 
 
 h \ 
 
AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 I 
 
 ^ 
 
 haven't you, Minervy Ann ? " There was a pious 
 twang in the Major's voice as he pronounced the 
 words. 
 
 " I hear de preacher say sump'n 'bout it," replied 
 Aunt Minervy Ann. 
 
 " Well," said the Major, " along about that time 
 Hamp will return. I hope his record is good enough 
 to give him wings." 
 
 " Shuh ! Marse Tumlin ! you-all des fool'in' me. 
 I don't keer — Hamp ain't gwine wid um. I tell 
 you dat right now." 
 
 "Oh, he may not want to go," persisted the 
 Major, " but he'll go all the same if they get their 
 hands on hira." 
 
 " My life er me ! " exclaimed Aunt Minervy Ann, 
 bristling up, " does you-all 'speck I'm gwine ter let 
 um take Hamp out dat away ? De f us' man come ter 
 my door, less'n it's one er you-all, I'm gwine ter fling 
 a pan er hot embers in his face ef de Lord'U gi' me 
 de strenk. An' ef dat don't do no good, I'll scald 
 um wid b'ilin' water. You hear dat, don't you ? " 
 
 " Minervy Ann," said the Major, sweetly, *' have 
 you ever heard of the Ku-Klux ? " 
 
 " Yasser, I is ! " she exclaimed with startling em- 
 phasis. She stopped still and gazed hard at the Ma- 
 jor. In response, he merely shrugged his shoulders 
 
 21 
 
 'ill 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 and raised his right hand with a swift gesture that 
 told the whole story. 
 
 " Name er God ! Marse Tumlin, is you an' Marse 
 Bolivar and dish yer young genterman gwine ter set 
 down here flat-footed and let dem Kukluckers 
 scarify Hamp ? " 
 
 " Why should we do anything ? You've got 
 everything arranged. You're going to singe 'em 
 with hot embers, and you're going to take their hides 
 off with scalding water. What more do you want ?', 
 The Major spoke with an air of benign resigna- 
 tion. 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann shook her head vigorously. 
 " Ef dey er de Kukluckers, fire won't do um no 
 harm. Dey totes der haids in der ban's." 
 
 "Their heads in their hands?" cried Colonel 
 Blasengame, excitedly. 
 
 " Dat what dey say, sub," replied Aunt Minervy 
 Ann. 
 
 Colonel Blasengame looked at bis watch. " Tum- 
 lin, I'll have to ask you to excuse me to-night," be 
 said. I — well, the fact is, I have a mighty im- 
 portant engagement up town. I'm obliged to fill 
 it." He turned to Aunt Minervy Ann : " Did I 
 understand you to say the Ku-Klux carry their 
 
 heads in their hands ? " 
 
 22 
 
AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 " Dat what folks tell me. I hear my own color 
 sesso," replied Aunt Minervy Ann. 
 
 " I'd be glad to stay with you, Tumlin," the Col- 
 onel declared; " but — well, under the circum- 
 stances, I think I'd better fill that engagement. 
 Justice to my family demands it." 
 
 " Well," responded Major Perdue, " if you are 
 going, I reckon we'd just as well go, too." 
 
 " Huh ! " exclaimed Aunt Minervy Aim, " ef 
 gwine's de word, dey can't nobody beat me gittin' 
 way fum here. Dey may beat me comin' back, I 
 ain't 'sputin' dat; but dey can't beat me gwine 'way. 
 I'm ol', but I got mighty nigh ez much go in me ez 
 a quarter-hoss." 
 
 Colonel Blasengame leaned back in his chair and 
 studied the ceiling. " It seems to me, Tumlin, we 
 might compromise on this. Suppose we get Hamp 
 to come in here. Minervy Ann can stay out there in 
 the kitchen and throw a rock against the back door 
 when the Ku-Klux come." 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann fairly gasped. "Who? 
 Me? I'll die fust. I'llfar dat do' down; I'll holler 
 twel ev'ybody in de neighborhood come a-runnin'. 
 Ef you don't b'lieve me, you des try me. I'll paw 
 up dat back-yard." 
 
 Major Perdue went to the back door and called 
 
 !?3 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 li 
 
 
 Hamp) but there was no answer. He called him a 
 second time, with the same result. 
 
 " Well," said the Major, " they've stolen a march 
 on us. They've come and carried him oflf while we 
 were talking." 
 
 " No, suh, dey ain't, needer. I know right whar 
 he is, an' I'm gwine atter 'im. He's right 'cross de 
 street dar, coUoguin' wid dat ol' Ceely Ensign. 
 Dat's right whar he is." 
 
 "Oldl Why, Celia is young," remarked the Ma- 
 jor. " They say she's the best cook in town." 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann whipped out of the room and 
 was gone some little time. When she returned, she 
 had Hamp with her, and I noticed that both were 
 laboring under excitement which they strove in vain 
 to suppress. 
 
 " Here I is, suh," said Hamp. " 'Nervy Ann say 
 you call me." 
 
 " How is Celia to-night? " Colonel Blasengame 
 inquired, suavely. 
 
 This inquiry, so suddenly and unexpectedly put, 
 seemed to disconcert Hpmp. He shuffled his feet 
 and put his hand to his face. I noticed a blue welt 
 over his eye, which was not there when he visited 
 me in the afternoon. 
 
 " Well, suh, I 'speck she's tolerbul." 
 
 24 
 
AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 "7« she? Is she? Ah-h-hP* cried Aunt Mi- 
 nervy Ann. 
 
 " She must be pretty well," said the Major. " I 
 see she's hit you a clip over the left eye." 
 
 " Dat's some er 'Nervy Ann's doin's, sjli," re- 
 plied Hamp, somewhat disconsolately. 
 
 " Den what you git in de way fer? " snapped 
 Aunt Minervy Ann. 
 
 " Marse Tumlin, dat ar 'oman ain't done nothin* 
 in de roun' worl'. She say she want me to buy some 
 hime books fer de church when I went to Atlanty, 
 an' I went over dar atter de money." 
 
 "J himed 'er an* I churched 'er.'" exclaimed 
 Aunt Minervy Ann. 
 
 " Here de money right here," said Hamp, pull- 
 ing a small roll of shinplasters out of his pocket; 
 " an' whiles we settin' dar countin' de money, 
 'Nervy Ann come in dar an' frail dat 'oman out." 
 
 " Ain't you hear dat nigger holler, Marse Tum- 
 lin?" inquired Minervy Ann. She was in high 
 good-humor now. " Look like ter me dey could 
 a-heerd 'er blate in de nex' county ef dey'd been 
 a-lis'nin'. 'Twuz same ez a picnic, suh, an' I'm 
 gwine 'cross dar 'fo' long an' pay my party call." 
 
 Then she began to laugh, and pretty soon went 
 
 through the whole episode for our edification, 
 
 26 
 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 I 
 
 1 ' 
 
 dwelling with unction on that part where the un- 
 fortunate victim of her jealousy had called her 
 " Miss 'Nervy." The more she laughed the more 
 serious Ilamp became. 
 
 At the proper time he was told of the visitation 
 that was to be made by the Ku-Klux, and this in- 
 formation seemed to perplex and worry him no lit- 
 tle. But his face lit up with genuine thankfulness 
 when the programme for the occasion was an- 
 nounced to him. He and Mincrvy Ann were to re- 
 main in the house and not show their heads until 
 the Major or the Colonel or their guest came to the 
 back door and drummed on it lightly with the 
 fingers. 
 
 Inen the arms — three shot-guns — were brought 
 out, and I noticed with some degree of surprise, that 
 as the Major and the Colonel began to handle these, 
 their spirits rcse perceptibly. The Major hummed 
 a tune and the Colonel whistled softly as they oiled 
 the locks and tried the triggers. The Major, in 
 coming home, had purchased four founds of mus- 
 tard-seed shot, and with this he proceeded to load 
 two of the guns. In the third he placed only pow- 
 der. This harmless weapon was intended for me, 
 while the others were to be handled by Major Per- 
 due and Colonel Blasengame. I learned afterward 
 
 26 
 
 n 
 
AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 that the arrangement was made solely for my bene- 
 fit. The Major and the Colonel were afraid that a 
 young hand might become excited and fire too high 
 at close range, in which event mustard-seed shot 
 would be as dangerous as the larger variety. 
 
 At twelve o'clock I noticed that both Hamp and 
 Aunt Minexvy were growing restless. 
 
 " You hear dat clock, don't you, Marse Tum- 
 lin? " said Minervy as the chimes died away. " Ef 
 you don't min', de Kukluckers'U be a-stickin' der 
 haids in de back do'." 
 
 But the Major and the Colonel were playing a 
 rubber of seven-up (or high-low-Jack) and paid no 
 attention. It was a quarter after twelve when the 
 game was concluded and the players pushed their 
 chairs back from the table. 
 
 " Ef you don't fin' um in de yard waitin' f er you, 
 I'll be fooled might'ly," remarked Aunt Minervy 
 Ann. 
 
 " Go and see if they're out there," said the Major. 
 
 " Me, Marse Tumlin? Me? I wouldn't go out 
 dat do' not for ham." 
 
 The Major took out his watch. " They'll eat 
 and drink until twelve or a little after, and then 
 they'll get ready to start. Then they'll have an- 
 other drink all 'round, and finally they'll take an- 
 
 27 
 
.>■' 
 
 . \ 
 
 il 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 other. It'll be a quarter to one or after when they 
 get in the grove in the far end of the lot. But we'll 
 go out now and see how the land lays. By the time 
 they get here, our eyes will be used to the darkness." 
 
 The light was carried to a front room, and we 
 groped our way out at the back door the best we 
 could. The night was dark, but the stars were shin- 
 ing. I noticed that the belt and sword of Orion had 
 drifted above the tree-tops in the east, following the 
 Pleiades. In a little while the darkness seemed to 
 grow less dense, and I could make out the outlines 
 of trees twenty feet away. 
 
 Behind one of these trees, near the outhouse in 
 which Hamp and Aunt Minervy lived, I was to take 
 my stand, while the Major and the Colonel were to 
 go farther into the wood-lot so as to greet the would- 
 be Ku-Klux as they made their retreat, of which 
 Major Perdue had not the slightest doubt. 
 
 " You stand here," said the Major in a whisper. 
 " "We'll go to the far-end of the lot ^where they're 
 likely to come in. They'll pass us all right enough, 
 but as soon as you see one of 'em, up with the gun 
 an' lam aloose, an' before they can get away give 
 'em the other barrel. Then you'll hear from us." 
 
 Major Perdue and Colonel Blasengame disap- 
 peared in the darkness, leaving me, as it were, on 
 
 88 
 
i 
 
 AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 the inner picket line. I found the situation some- 
 what ticklish, as the saying is. There was not the 
 slightest danger, and I knew it, but if you ever have 
 occasion to stand out in the dark, waiting for some- 
 thing to happen, you'll find there's a certain degree 
 of suspense attached to it. And the loneliness and 
 silence of the night Avill take a shape almost tangi- 
 ble. The stirring of the half -dead leaves, the chirp- 
 ing of a belated cricket, simply emphasized the lone- 
 liness and made the silence more profound. At 
 intervals, all nature seemed to heave a deep sigh, 
 and address itself to slumber again. 
 
 In the house I heard the muffled sound of the 
 clock chime one, but whether it was striking the 
 half -hour or the hour I could not tell. Then I heard 
 the stealthy tread of feet. Someone stumbled over 
 a stick of timber, and the noise was followed by a 
 smothered exclamation and a confused murmur of 
 voices. As the story-writers say, I knew that the 
 hour had come. I could hear whisperings, and then 
 I saw a tall shadow steal from behind Aunt Miner- 
 vy's house, and heard it rap gently on the door. I 
 raised the gun, pulled the hammer back, and let 
 drive. A stream of fire shot from the gun, accom- 
 panied by a report that tore the silence to atoms. I 
 heard a sharp exclamation of surprise, then the noise 
 
 m 
 

 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 of running feet, and ofT went the otlier barrel. In 
 a moment the Major and the Colonel opened on the 
 fugitives. I heard a loud cry of pain from one, and, 
 in the midst of it all, the mustard-seed shot rattled 
 on the plank fence like hominy-snow on a tin roof. 
 
 The next instant I heard someone running back 
 in my direction, as if for dear life. He knew the 
 place apparently, for he tried to go through the or- 
 chard, but just before he reached the orchard fence, 
 he uttered a half-strangled cry of terror, and then I 
 heard him fall as heavily as if he had dropped from 
 the top of the house. 
 
 It was impossible to imagine what had happened, 
 
 and it was not until we had investigated the matter 
 
 that the cause of the trouble was discovered. A wire 
 
 clothes-line, stretched across the yard, had caught 
 
 the would-be Ku-Klux under the chin, his legs flew 
 
 from under him, and he hi 1 •i fall, from the effects 
 
 of which he was long in recovering. He was a 
 
 young man about town, very well connected, who 
 
 had gone into the affair in a spirit of mischief. We 
 
 carried him into the house, and administered to his 
 
 hurts the best we could ; Aunt Minervy Ann, be it 
 
 said to her credit, being more active in this direction 
 
 than any of us. 
 
 On the Tuesday following, the county paper con- 
 
 80 
 
 111 
 
,:f^irm 
 
 We administered to his iiurts the besi we could. 
 
 1 
 
 ' 'I 
 
I 
 
 V 
 
 t ! 
 
 :ltk 
 
 I 
 
AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 tained the news in a form that remains to this day 
 unique. It is hardly necessary to say that it was 
 from the pen of Major Tumlin Perdue. 
 
 " Last Saturday afternoon our local editor was 
 informed by a prominent citizen that if he would 
 apply to Major Perdue he would be put in posses- 
 sion of a very interesting piece of news. Acting 
 upon this hint, ye local yesterday went to Major 
 Perdue, who, being in high good-humor, wrote out 
 the following with his own hand: 
 
 " * Late Saturday night, while engaged with a 
 party of friends in searching for a stray dog on my 
 premises, I was surprised to see four or five men 
 climb over my back fence and proceed toward my 
 residence. As my most intimate friends do not visit 
 me by climbing over my back fence, I immediately 
 deployed my party in such a manner as to make the 
 best of a threatening situation. The skirmish 
 opened at my kitchen-door, with two rounds from 
 a howitzer. This demoralized the enemy, who 
 promptly retreated the way they came. One of 
 them, the leader of the attacking party, carried away 
 with him two loads of mustard-seed shot, delivered 
 in the general neighborhood and region of the coat- 
 tails, which, being on a level with the horizon, af- 
 forded as fair a target as could be had in the dark. 
 
 81 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 1 
 
 I understand on good authority that Mr. Larry Pull- 
 iam, one of our leading and deservedly popular 
 citizens, has had as much as a quart of mustard- 
 seed shot picked from his carcass. Though hit in 
 a vulnerable spot, the wound is not mortal. — T. 
 Pebdub.' " 
 
 I did my best to have Mr. Pulliam^s name sup- 
 pressed, but the Major would not have it so. 
 
 "No, sir," he insisted; "the man has insulted 
 me behind my back, and he's got to cut wood or put 
 down the axe." 
 
 Naturally this free and easy card created quite a 
 sensation in Halcyondale and the country round 
 about. People knew what it would mean if Major 
 Perdue's name had been used in such an off-hand 
 manner by Mr. Pulliam, and they naturally sup- 
 posed that a fracas would be the outcome. Public 
 expectation was on tiptoe, and yet the whole town 
 seemed to take the Major's card humorously. Some 
 of the older citizens laughed until they could hardly 
 sit up, and even Mr. PuUiam's friends caught the 
 infection. Indeed, it is said that Mr. Pulliam, him- 
 self, after the first shock of surprise was over, paid 
 the Major's audacious humor the tribute of a hearty 
 laugh. When Mr. Pulliam appeared in public, 
 
 among the first men he saw was Major Perdue. This 
 
 82 
 
J 
 
 AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX 
 
 was natural, for the Major made it a point to be on 
 hand. He was not a ruffler, but he thought it was 
 his duty to give Mr. Pulliam a fair opportunity to 
 wreak vengeance on him. If the boys about town 
 imagined that a row was to be the result of this first 
 meeting, they were mistaken. Mr. Pulliam looked 
 at the Major and then began to laugh. 
 
 " Major Perdue," he said, " I'd a heap rather 
 you'd pull your shot-gun on me than your pen." 
 
 And that ended the matter. 
 
 , 
 
 88 
 
 ■lit 
 
I 
 
 n 
 
 "WHEN JESS WENT A-Fn)DLTN'" 
 
 ! :«! 
 
 I ^1 
 
 Is 
 
 The foregoing rooital is iiniiuostionnbly n long 
 nnd tanic })rt>i'tu'e to tlic statonicnt tlmt, after tliink- 
 ing tlio matter over I eonchuled to aeee[)t the oflicial 
 invitation to tliefaii* — '*Tlie JMiddU- (Jeorgia KxpOvsi- 
 tion " it was eaHed — if nothing oeonrred to prevent. 
 With this conelusion I dismissed tlie matter from 
 my mind for the time being, and wonld probably 
 have thought of it no more until the moment ar- 
 rived to make a final deeision, if tlic matter had not 
 been ealled somewhat sharply to my attention. 
 
 Sitting on the veranda one day, ruminating over 
 other people's troubles, I heard an unfamiliar voieo 
 calling, " You-all got ar.y bitin' dogs here^ " Tiie 
 voice failed to match the serenity of the suburban 
 scene. Its tone v/as pitched a trille too high for the 
 surroundings. 
 
 But before I could make any reply the gate was 
 flung open, and the new-comer, who was no other 
 than Aunt Minervy Ann, flirted in ana began to 
 
 34 
 
"wttt:n jess went a-fiddltn"- 
 
 o 
 
 i 
 
 rlirnl) t]\v torrncoH. My rocognltioii of Ijcr was not 
 iniiiiodiatc, partly bccauHC! it liad been long since I 
 saw her and ])artly because she wore lier Sunday 
 toggery, in which, following the oriental tKHtca of 
 her race, the reds and yellows were emphasized with 
 star ling effect. She began to talk by the time she 
 was half-way between the house and gate, and it 
 was owing to this special and pa.iicular volubility 
 that I was able to recognize her. 
 
 " Iluhl " she exclaimed, " hit's des like clim'in' 
 up sta'rs. Folks what live luTe bleeze tcr b'long ter 
 de Sons er 'J'enij)un(!e." 'JMierc was a relish about 
 his reference to the difficulties of three terraces 
 that at once identified Aunt Minervy Ann. More 
 than that, one of the most conspicuous features of 
 the country town where she lived was a large brick 
 building, covering half a block, acroB? the top of 
 which stretched a sign — " Temperance Ilall " — in 
 letters that could be read lialf a mile away. 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann received a greeting that 
 seemed to please her, whereupon she explained that 
 an excursion had come to Atlanta from her town, 
 and she had seized the opportunity to pay me a visit. 
 " I tol' um," said she, " dat dey could stay up in 
 town dar an' hang 'roun' de kyar-shed ef dey wanter, 
 but here's what wuz gwine ter come out an' see whar 
 
 85 
 
THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 II 
 
 you live at, an' fin* out fer Marse Tumlin ef you 
 comin* down ter de fa'r." 
 
 She was informed that, though she was welcome, 
 she would get small pleasure from her visit. The 
 cook had failed to make her appearance, and the 
 lady of the house was at that moment in the kitchen 
 and in a very fretful state of mind, not because she 
 had to cook, but because she had about reached the 
 point where she could place no dependence in the 
 sisterhood of colored cooks. 
 
 " Is she ir de kitchen now? " Aunt Minervjr's 
 tone was a curious mixture of amusement and indig- 
 ; ation. " I started not ter come, but I had a cpU, I 
 sho' did; sump'n tol' me dat you mought need me 
 out here." "With that, she went into the house, 
 slamming the screen-door after her, and untying 
 her bonnet as she went. 
 
 Now, the lady of the house had heard of Aunt 
 Minervy Ann, but had never met her, and I was 
 afraid that the characteristics of my old-time friend 
 would be misunderstood and misinterpreted. The 
 lady in question knew nothing of the negro race 
 until long after emancipation^ and she had not been 
 able to form a very favorable opinion of its repre- 
 sentatives. Therefore, I hastened after Aunt Mi- 
 nervy Ann, Hoping to tone down by explanation 
 
 8G 
 
"WHEN JESS WENT A-FIDDLIN'" 
 
 whatever bad impression she might create. She 
 paused at the screen-door that barred the entrance 
 to the kitchen, and, for an instant, surveyed the 
 scene within. Then she cried out: 
 
 " You des ez well ter come out'n dat kitchen 1 
 You ain't got no mo' bizness in dar dan a new-bom 
 baby." 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann's voice was so loud and abso- 
 lute that the lady gazed at her in mute astonishment. 
 " You des es well ter come out! " she insisted. 
 
 " Are you crazy? " the lady asked, in all serious- 
 ness. 
 
 " I'm des ez crazy now ez I ever been ; an' I tell 
 you you des ez well ter come out'n dar." 
 
 " Who are you anyhow? " 
 
 " I'm Minervy Ann Perdue, at home an' abroad, 
 an' in dish yer great town whar you can't git niggers 
 ter cook fer you." 
 
 " "Well, if you want me to come out of the 
 kitchen, you will have to come in and do the cook- 
 
 ing. 
 
 j> 
 
 " Dat 'zackly what I'm gwine ter do! " erclaimed 
 Auut Minervy Ann. She went into the kitchen, 
 demanded an apron, and took entire charge. " I'm 
 mighty glad I come 'fo' you got started," she said, 
 
 kaze yoa got 'nuff fier in dis stove fer ter bar- 
 
 87 
 
 « r 
 
 s 
 

 THE CIIUONICLKS OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 becuo a liosa; an' you got it so hot in hero dat it's a 
 wonder you ain't bust a blood-vessel." 
 
 She removed all the vessels from the range, and 
 opened the door of the furnace so that the fire 
 might die down. And when it was nearly out — as 
 I was told afterward — she replaced the vessels and 
 proceeded to cook a dinner which, in all its char- 
 acteristics, marked a red letter day in the household. 
 
 " She's the best cook in the country," said the 
 lady, " and she's not very polite." 
 
 "Not very hypocritical, you mean; well if she 
 was a hypocrite, she wouldn't be Aunt Minervy 
 Ann." 
 
 The cook failed to come in the afternoon, and so 
 Aunt Minervy Ann felt it her duty to remain over 
 night. " Ilamp'll vow I done run away wid some- 
 body," she said, laughing, " but I don't keer what 
 he think." 
 
 After supper, which wa, s good as the dinner had 
 been. Aunt Minervy Ann came out on the veran- 
 da and sat on the steps. After some conversation, 
 she placed the lady of the house on the witness-stand. 
 
 " Mistiss, wharbouts in Georgy wuz you born 
 at?" 
 
 " I wasn't born in Gi orgla; I was born in Lans- 
 ingburgh, New York." 
 
 8a 
 
"WHEN JKSS VVICNT A-F1I)1)LIN' " 
 
 " I know'd itl " Aunt Minervy turned to nio and 
 noddcMl her head with energy. " I know'd it right 
 pine blank! " 
 
 " You knew what? " the presiding genius of the 
 houscliold inijuired witli souic curioHity. 
 
 " I know'd 'ni dat wuz a Northron lady.'* 
 
 " I don't see hew you knew it," I remarked. 
 
 " Well, 8uh, she talk like we-all do, an' she got 
 mighty much do same ways. But when I went out 
 dar dis mornin' an' holler at 'or in do kitchen, I 
 know'd by de wayshe turn 'roun' on mo dat she ain't 
 been brung up wid niggers. Kf she'd 'a' been a 
 Southron lady, she'd 'a' laughed an' said, ' Come in 
 here an' cook dis dinner yo'se'f, you ole vilyun,' er 
 she'd 'a' come out an' crackt me over de head with 
 dat i'on sjjoon what she had in her han'." 
 
 I could perceive a vast amount of acuteness in the 
 observation, but I said nothing, and, after a con- 
 siderable pause, Aunt Minervy Ann remarked: 
 
 " Dey er lots er mighty good folks up dar " — in- 
 dicating the North — " some I've seed wid my own 
 eyes an' de yuthers I've lieern talk un. Mighty 
 fine folks, an' dey say dey mighty sorry fer de nig- 
 gers. But I'll tell um all anywhar, any day, dat I'd 
 lots druther dey'd be good ter me dan ter be sorry 
 
 fer me. You know dat ar white lady what Marsc 
 
 39 
 
 mu 
 
 4:^1 
 
I 
 
 
 \-\ 
 
 I ;i 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 Tom Chippendale married? Her pa come down 
 here ter he'p de niggers, an' he done it de best he 
 kin, but Marsc Tom's wife can't b'ar de sight un inn. 
 She won't let um go in hor kitchen, she won't let 
 um go in her house, an' s!ic don't want um nowhars 
 'roun'. She's mighty sorry fer 'm, but she don't 
 like um. I don't blame 'er much niyse'f, bekaze it 
 look like dat de niggers what been growin' up sence 
 freedom is des tryin' der han' fer ter see how no 
 'count dey kin be. Dcy'll git better — dey er bleeze 
 ter git better, 'kaze dey can't git no wuss." 
 
 Here came another pause, which continued until 
 Aunt Minervy Ann, turning her head toward me, 
 asked if I knew the lady that Jesse Towers married ; 
 and before I had time to reply with certainty, she 
 went on : 
 
 *' 'No, suh, you des can't know 'er. She ain't 
 come dar twel sev'mty, an' I mos' know you ain't 
 see 'er dat time you went down home de las' time, 
 'kaze she wa'n't gwine out dat year. Well, she wuz 
 a Northron lady. I come mighty nigh tellin' you 
 'bout 'er when you wuz livin' dar, but fus' one 
 thing an' den anudder jumped in de way; er maybe 
 'twuz too new ter be goshup'd 'roun' right den. But 
 } come ter be dar an' 
 
 way 
 
 way 
 
 out beats any er dem tales what de ol' folks use ter 
 
I t 
 
 "WHEN JESS WENT A-FTDDUN'" 
 
 tell we childun. I may not know all do ins an 'iita, 
 but what I (loe8 know I knows mighty well, 'kaze 
 do young 'oman tol' me hcrse'f right out 'or own 
 mouf. 
 
 " Fus' an' fo'mus', dar wuz ol' Gabe Towers. IIo 
 wuz dar whence you wuz dar, an' long time 'fo' dat. 
 You know'd him, alio', 'kaze ho wuz one er dem 
 kinder men what sticks out fum de res' like a wag- 
 gin' tongue. Not dat he wuz any better'n anybody 
 else, but he had dem kinder ways what make folks 
 talk 'bout 'im an' 'pen' on 'im. I dunner 'zackly 
 what do ways wuz, but I knows dat whatsomever ol' 
 Gabe Towers say an' do, folks 'd nod der head an' 
 say an' do de same. An' me 'long er de res'. He 
 had dem kinder ways 'bout 'im, an' 'twa'n't no use 
 talkin'." 
 
 In these few words, Aunt Minervy conjured up 
 in my mind the memory of one of the most remark- 
 able men I had ever known. He was tall, with iron- 
 gray hair. His eyes were black and brilliant, his 
 nose slightly curved, and his chin firm without 
 heaviness. To this day Gabriel Towers stands out 
 in my admiration foremost among all the men I 
 have ever known. He might have been a great 
 statesman; he would have been great in anything 
 to which he turned his hand. But he contented 
 
 41 
 
 

 
 : 
 
 ' 
 
 iii il I ' 
 
 I) ! 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 himself with instructing smaller men, who were 
 merely politicians, and with sowing and reaping on 
 his plantation. More than one senator went to him 
 for ideas with which to make a reputation. 
 
 His will seemed to dominate everybody with 
 whom he came in contact, not violently, but serenely 
 and surely, and as a matter of course. Whether 
 this was due to his age — he was sixty-eight when I 
 knew him, having been born in the closing year of 
 the eighteenth century — or to his moral power, or 
 to his personal magnetism, it is hardly worth while 
 to inquire. Major Perdue said that the secret of his 
 influence was common-sense, and this is perhaps as 
 good an explanation as any. The immortality of 
 Socrates and Plato should be enough to convince us 
 that common-sense is almost as inspiring as the gift 
 of prophecy. To interpret Aunt Minervy Ann in 
 this way is merely to give a correct report of what 
 occurred on the veranda, for explanation of this kind 
 was necessary to give the lady of the house some- 
 thing like a familiar interest in the recital. 
 
 " Yes, suh," Aunt Minervy Ann went on, " he 
 had dem kinder ways 'bout 'im, an' whatsomever he 
 say you can't shoo it off like you would a hen on de 
 gyarden fence. Dar 'twuz an' dar it stayed. 
 
 " Well; de time come when ol' Marse Gabe bad 
 
 4SJ 
 
"WHEN JKSS WENT A-FIDDLIN' " 
 
 
 a gran'son, an' ho name 'im Jesse in 'cordance wid 
 de Bible. Jesse grow'd an' grow'd twel ho got ter 
 bo a right smart chunk uv a boy, but he wa'n't no 
 mo' like de Towerses dan he wuz like de Chippen- 
 dales, which he wa'n't no kin to. He tuck atter his 
 ma, an' who his ma tuck atter I'll never tell you, 
 'kaze Bill Henry Towers married 'er way off yander 
 somers. She wuz purty but puny, yit puny ez she 
 wuz she could play de peanner by de hour, an' play 
 it mo' samer de man what make it. 
 
 " Well, suh, Jesse tuck atter his ma in looks, but 
 ^stidder playin' de peanner, he I'arnt how ter play do 
 fiddle, an' by de time he wuz twelve year ol', he 
 could make it talk. Hit's de fatal trufe, suh; he 
 could make it talk. You hear folks playin' de fiddle, 
 an' you know what dey doin'; you kin hear de 
 strings a-plunkin' an' you kin hear de bow raspin' on 
 um on 'count de rozzum, but when Jesse Towers 
 swiped de bow cross his fiddle, 'twa'n't no fiddle — 
 'twuz human; I ain't tellin' you no lie, suh, 'twuz 
 human. Dat chile could make yo' heart ache; he 
 could fetch yo' sins up befo' you. Don't tell me! 
 many an' many a night when I hear Jesse Towers 
 playin', I could shet my eyes an' hoar my childun 
 cryin', dem what been dead an' buried long time 
 
 ago. Don't make no diffunce 'bout de chune, reel, 
 
 43 
 
 1 
 
 4 
 1 
 
 1 
 
'■ : ■ ( 
 
 ii t 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 jig, er promenade, de human cryin' wuz behime all 
 un um. 
 
 " Bimeby, Jesse got so dat he didn't keer nothin' 
 'tall 'bout books. It uz fiddle, fiddle, all day long, 
 an' half de night ef dey'd let 'im. Den folks 'gun 
 ter talk. No need ter tell you what all dey say. De 
 worl' over, fum what I kin hear, dey got de idee dat 
 a fiddle is a free pass ter whar ole Scratch live at. 
 Well, suh, Jesse got so he'd run away fum school an' 
 go off in de woods an' play his fiddle. Hamp use ^er 
 come 'pon 'im when he haulin' wood, an' he say dat 
 fiddle ain't soun' no mo' like de iiddles what you 
 hear in common dan a flute soun' like a bass drum. 
 
 " Mow you know yo'se'f, suh, dat dis kinder 
 doin's ain't gwine ter suit Marse Gabe Towers. 
 Time he hear un it, he put his foot down on fiddler, 
 an' fiddle, an' fiddlin'. Ez you may say, he sot 
 down on de fiddle an' smash it. Dis happen when 
 Jesse wuz sixteen year ol', an' by dat time he wuz 
 mo' in love wid de fiddie dan what he wuz wid his 
 gran'daddy. An' so dar 'twuz. He ain't look like 
 it, but Jesse wuz about ez high strung ez his fid- 
 dle wuz, an' when his gran'daddy laid de law down, 
 he sol' out his pony an' buggy an' made his disap- 
 pearance fum dem parts. 
 
 " Well, suh, 'twa'n't so mighty often you'd hear 
 
 44 
 
"WHEN JESS WENT A-FIDDLIN' " 
 
 sassy talk 'bout Marse Gabe Towers, but you could 
 hear it den. Folks is allers onreasonable wid dem 
 dey like de bes' ; you know dat yo'se'f , suh. Marse 
 Gabe ain't make no 'lowance fer Jesse, an' folks 
 ain't make none fer Marse Gabe. Marse Tumlin 
 wuz dat riled wid de man dat dey come mighty nigh 
 havin' a fallin' out. Dey had a splutter 'bout de 
 time when sump'n n'er had happen, an' atter dey 
 wrangle a little, Marse Tumlin sot de date by sayin' 
 dat 'twuz ' a year 'fo' de day when Jess went a-fid- 
 dlin'.' Dat say in' kindled de fier, suh, an' it spread 
 fur an' wide. Marse Tom Chippendale say dat folks 
 what never is hear tell er de Towerses went 'roun' 
 talkin' 'bout ' de time when Jess went a-fiddlin'.' '^ 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann chuckled over this, probably 
 because she regarded it as a sort of victory for Major 
 Tumlin Perdue. She went on : 
 
 " Yes, suh, 'twuz a by-word wid de childun. No 
 matter what happen, er when it happen, er ef 'tain't 
 happen, 'twuz 'fo' er atter ' de day when Jess went 
 a-fiddlin'.' Hit look like dat Marse Gabe sorter 
 drapt a notch or two in folks' min's. Yit he helt his 
 head iez ez high. He bleeze ter hoi' it high, 'kaze 
 he had in 'im de blood uv bofe de Tumlins an' de 
 Perdues; I dunner how much, but 'nuff fer ter 
 keep his head up. 
 
 45 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 I 
 
 I, 
 
 .1 
 
 " I ain't no almanac, siih, but I never is ter f ergit 
 de year when Jess went a-fiddlin. 'Twnz sixty, 'kaze 
 de nex' year de ^Var 'gun ter bile, an' 'twa'n't long 
 'f o' it biled over. Yes, suh ! dar wuz de war come 
 on an Jess done gone. Dey banged aloose, dey did, 
 dem on der side, an' we on our'n, an' dey kep' on a 
 bangin' twel we-all can't bang no mo'. An' den 
 de war hushed up, an' freedom come, an' still no- 
 body ain't hear tell er Jesse. Den you come down 
 dar, suh, an' stay what time you did; still nobody 
 ain't hear tell er Jesse. He mought er writ ter his 
 ma, but ef he did, she kep' it mighty close. Marse 
 Gabe ain't los' no flesh 'bout it, an' ef he los' any 
 sleep on account cr Jess, he ain't never brag 'bout it. 
 
 " Well, suh, it went on dis away twel, ten year 
 
 atter Jess went a-fiddlin', his wife come home. Yes, 
 
 suh! His wife! Well! I wuz stan'in' right in de 
 
 hall talkin' wid Miss Fanny — dat's Jesse's ma — 
 
 when she come, an' when de news broke on me you 
 
 could 'a' knockt me down wid a permeter fan. De 
 
 house-gal show'd 'er in de parler, an' den come atter 
 
 Miss Fanny. Miss Fanny she went in dar, an' I 
 
 stayed outside talkin' wid de house-gal. De gal say, 
 
 * Aunt Minervy Ann, dey sho' is sump'n n'er de 
 
 matter wid dat white lady. She white ez any er de 
 
 dead, an' she can't git 'er breff good.' 'Bout dat 
 
 46 
 
 \{ 1' 
 
 . 
 
"WHEN JESS WENT A-FIDDLIN'" 
 
 time, I hear somebody cry out in de parler, an* den 
 I hear sump'n fall. De house-gal cotch holt er me 
 an' 'gun ter whimper. I shuck 'er off, I did, an' 
 went right straight in de parler, an' dar wuz Mis8 
 Fanny layin' face f o'mus' on a sofy wid a letter in 
 'er han' an' de white lady sprawled out on de flo'. 
 
 " Well, suh, you can't skeer me wid trouble 'kaze 
 I done see too much; so I shuck Miss Fanny by de 
 arm an' ax 'er what de matter, an' she cry out, 
 ' Jesse's dead an' his wife come home.' She uz plum 
 heart-broke, suh, an' I 'speck I wuz blubberin' some 
 myse'f when Marse Gabe walkt in, but I wuz tryin' 
 ter work wid de white lady on de flo'. 'Twix' Marse 
 Gabe an' Miss Fanny, 'twuz sho'ly a tryin' time. 
 When one er dem hard an' uppity men lose der grip 
 on deyse'f , dey turn loose ever'thing, an' dat wuz de 
 way wid Marse Gabe. When dat de case, sump'n 
 n'er got ter be done, an' it got ter be done mighty 
 quick." 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann paused here and rubbed her 
 hands together contemplatively, as if trying to re- 
 store the scene more completely to her memory. 
 
 " You know how loud I kin talk, suh, when I'm 
 min' ter. Well, I talk loud den an' dar. I 'low, 
 * What you-all doin' ? Is you gwine ter let Marse 
 Jesse's wife lay here an' die des 'kaze he dead? Ef 
 
 47 
 
! 
 
 I: i 
 
 I I 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 you is, I'll des go whar I b'longs at! ' Dis kinder 
 
 fotch um 'roun', an' 'twa'n't no time 'fo' we had de 
 
 white lady in de bed whar Jesse use ter sleep at, an' 
 
 soon's we got 'er cuddled down in it, she come 'roun'. 
 
 But she wuz in a mighty bad fix. She wanter git up 
 
 an' go off, an' 'twuz all I could do f er ter keep 'er in 
 
 bed. She done like she wuz plum distracted. Dey 
 
 wa'n't skacely a minnit fer long hours, an' dey wuz 
 
 mighty long uns, suh, dat she wa'n't moanin' an' 
 
 sayin' dat she wa'n't gwine ter stay, an' she hope de 
 
 Lord'd f ergive 'er. I tell you, suh, 'twuz tarryfyin'. 
 
 I shuck nex' day des like folks do when dey er 
 
 honin' atter dram. 
 
 " You may ax me how come I ter stay dar," Aunt 
 
 Minervy Ann suggested with a laugh. " Well, suh, 
 
 'twa'n't none er my doin's. I 'speck dey mus' be 
 
 sump'n wrong 'bout me, 'kaze no matter how rough 
 
 I talk ner how ugly I look, sick folks an' childun 
 
 allers takes up wid me. When I go whar dey is, it's 
 
 mighty hard fer ter git 'way fum um. So, when I 
 
 say ter Jesse's wife, ' Keep still, honey, an' I'll go 
 
 home an' not pester you,' she sot up in bed an' say 
 
 ef I gwine she gwine too. I say, ' Nummine 'bout 
 
 me, honey, you lay down dar an' don't talk too 
 
 much.' She 'low, * Le' me talk ter you an' tell you 
 
 all 'bout it.' But I shuck my head an' say dat ef 
 
 48 
 
 ' 
 
"WHEN JESS WENT A-FIDDLIN'" 
 
 she don't hush up an' keep still I'm gwine right 
 home. 
 
 " I had ter do 'er des like she wuz a baby, suh. 
 She wa'n't so mighty purty, but she had purty ways, 
 'stracted ez she wuz, an' de biggest black eyes you 
 mos' ever seed, an' black curly ha'r cut short kinder, 
 like our folks use ter w'ar der'n. Den de house-gal 
 f otched some tea an' toas', an' dis holp 'er up might- 
 ly, an' atter dat I sont ter Marse Gabe fer some 
 dram, an' de gal fetched de decanter fum de side- 
 bode. Bein', ez you may say, de nurse, I tuck an' 
 tas'e er de dram fer ter make sho' dat nobody ain't 
 put nothin' in it. An', sho' 'nuff, dey ain't." 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann paused and smacked her lips. 
 " Atter she got de vittles an' de dram, she sorter 
 drap off ter sleep, but 'twuz a mighty flighty kinder 
 sleep. She'd wake wid a jump des 'zackly like ba- 
 bies does, an' den she'd moan an' worry twel she 
 dozed off ag'in. I nodded, suh, bekaze you can't set 
 me down in a cheer, night er day, but what I'll nod, 
 but in betwix' an' betweens I kin hear Marse Gabe 
 Towers walkin' up an' down in de liberry; walk, 
 walk; walk, walk, up an' down. I 'speck ef I'd 'a' 
 been one er de nervious an' flighty kin' dey'd 'a' had 
 to tote me out er dat house de nex' day; but me! I 
 
 des kep' on a-noddin'. 
 
 49 
 
 <l 
 
\ 
 
 
 il * 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 " Bimeby, I hear sump'n come swishin' 'long, 
 an' in walkt Miss Fanny. I tell you now, suh, ef I'd 
 a met 'er comin' down de road, I'd 'a' made a break 
 f er de bushes, she look so much like you know sper- 
 rets oughter look — an' Marse Jesse's wife wuz layin' 
 dar wid 'er eyes wide open. She sorter swunk back 
 in de bed when she see Miss Fanny, an' cry out, 
 ' Oh, I'm mighty sorry fer ter trouble you; I'm 
 gwine 'way in de mornin'.' Miss Fanny went ter de 
 bed an' knelt down 'side it, an' 'low, ' No, you ain't 
 gwine no whar but right in dis house. Yo' place is 
 here, wid his mudder an' his gran'fadder.' Wid dat, 
 Marse Jesse's wife put her face in de piller an* moan 
 an' cry, twel I hatter ax Miss Fanny fer ter please, 
 ma'm, go git some res'. 
 
 " Well, suh, I stayed dar dat night an part er de 
 
 nex' day, an' by dat time all un um wuz kinder 
 
 quieted down, but dey wuz mighty res'less in de 
 
 min', 'speshually Marse Jesse's wife, which her 
 
 name wuz Miss Sadie. It seem like dat Marse Jesse 
 
 wuz livin' at a town up dar in de fur North whar 
 
 dey wuz a big lake, an' he went out wid one er dem 
 
 'scursion parties, an' a storm come up an' shuck de 
 
 boat ter pieces. Dat what make I say what I does. 
 
 I don't min' gwine on 'scursions on de groun', but 
 
 when it come ter water — well, suh, I ain't gwine ter 
 
 60 
 
"WHEN JESS WENT A-FIDDLIN' 
 
 • 
 
 trus* myse'f on water twel I kin walk on it an* not 
 wet my foots. Marse Jesse wuz de Captain uv a 
 music-ban' up dar, an' de papers fum dar had some 
 long pieces 'bout 'im, an' de paper at home had a 
 piece 'bout 'im. It say he wuz one er de mos' re- 
 nounced music-makers what yever had been, an' dat 
 when it ome ter dat kinder doin'd he wuz a puffick 
 prodigal. I 'member de words, suh, bekazt I made 
 Hamp read de piece out loud mo' dan once. 
 
 " Miss Sadie, she got mo' calmer atter whiiP, an' 
 'twa'n't long 'fo' Marse Gabe an' Miss Fanny wuz 
 bofe mighty tuck up wid 'er. Dey much'd 'er up 
 an' made a heap un 'er, an' she f a'rly hung on dem. 
 I done tol' you she ain't purty, but dey wuz sump'n 
 'bout 'er better dan purtiness. It mought er been 'er 
 eyes, en den ag'in mought er been de way er de gal; 
 but whatsomever 'twuz, hit made you think 'bout 
 'er at odd times durin' de day, an' des 'f o' you go ter 
 sleep at night. 
 
 " Eve'ything went swimmin' along des ez natchul 
 ez a duck floatin' on de mill-pon'. Dey wa'n't skace- 
 ly a day but what I seed Miss Sadie. Ef I ain't go 
 ter Marse Gabe's house she'd be sho' ter come ter 
 mine. Dat uz atter Hamp wuz 'lected ter de legis- 
 latur, suh. He 'low dat a member er de ingener'l 
 ensembly ain't got no bizness livin' in a kitchen, but 
 
 01 
 
 it 
 
V 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINEBVY /NN 
 
 I say he ain't a whit better den dan he wuz befo'. 
 So be, I done been cross 'im so much dat 1 tell 'im 
 ter git de house an' I'd live in iv ef 'twa'n't tuo fur 
 f um Miss Vallie an' Marse Tumlin. "Well, he had it 
 built on de outskyirts, not a big jump fum Miss Val- 
 lie an' betwix' de town an' Marse Gabe Towers's. 
 When you come down ter de fa'r, you mus' come 
 see me. Me an' Hamp'll treat you right; we sholy 
 will. 
 
 " Well, suh, in dem days dey wa'n't so many nig- 
 gers willin' ter do an' be done by, an' on account er 
 dat, ef Miss Vallie wa'n't hollin' fer 'Nervy Ann, 
 Miss Fanny er Miss Sadie wuz, an' when I wa'n't at 
 one place, you might know I'd be at de yuther one. 
 It went on dis away, an' went on twel one day got so 
 much like an'er Jat you can't tell Monday fum Fri- 
 day. An' it went on an' went on twel bimeby I wuz 
 bleeze ter say sump'n ter Hamp. You take notice, 
 suh, an' when you see de sun shinin' nice an' warm 
 an' de win' blowin' so saf t an' cool dftt you wanter 
 go in a-washin' in it — when you see dis an' feel dat 
 away, Watch out ! Tf a^cA om^, I tell you! Dat des 
 de time when de harrycane gwine ter come up out'n 
 de middle er de swamp an' t'ar things ter tatters. 
 Same way when folks gitting on so nice dat dey 
 don't know dey er gittin' on. 
 
 69 
 
1,1 
 
 WHEN JESS WENT A-FIDDLIN* '» 
 
 " De fus' news I know'd Miss Sadie wuz bringin' 
 little bundles ter ray house 'twix' sundown an' dark. 
 She'd 'low, * Aunt Minervy Ann, I'll des put dis in 
 de cornder here; I may want it some time.' Nex' 
 day it'd be de same doin's over ag'in. * Aunt Mi- 
 nervy Ann, please take keer er dis; I may want it 
 some time.' Well, it went on dis away fum day ter 
 day, but I ain't pay no 'tention. Ef any 'spicion 
 cross my min' it wuz dat maybe Miss Sadie puttin' 
 dem things dar f er ter 'sprise me Chris'mus by tellin' 
 me dey wuz fer me. But one day she come ter my 
 house, an' sot down an' put her lian's over her face 
 like she got de headache er sump'n. 
 
 " Wellum " — Aunt Minervy Ann, with real tact, 
 now began to address herself to the lady of the house 
 — " "Wellum, she sot dar so long dat bimeby I ax 'er 
 what de matter is. She ain't say nothin'; she ain't 
 make no motion. I 'low ter myse'f dat she don't 
 wanter be pestered, so I let 'er 'lone an' went on 
 'bout my business. But, bless you ! de nex' time I 
 look at 'er she wuz settin' des dat away wid 'er ban's 
 over her face. She sot so still dat it sorter make me 
 feel quare, an' I went, I did, an' cotch holt er her 
 ban's sorter playful-like. "Wellum, de way dey felt 
 made me flinch. All I could say wuz, * Lord 'a' 
 mercy I ' She tuck her ban's down, she did, an' look 
 
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 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 nt mo an' smile kinder faint-like. She 'low, * Wuz 
 my lian's col'. Aunt Minervy Ann? ' I look at 'er 
 au' grunt, *Huh! dey won't be no colder when 
 youer dead.' She ain't say nothin', an' terreckly I 
 'low, * What do name er goodness is de matter wid 
 you. Miss Sadie?' She say, * Nothin' much. I'm 
 g-wine ter stay hero ter-uight, an' tei-morrer mornin' 
 I'm gwine 'way.' I ax 'er, ' IIow come dat? What 
 is dey done to you? ' She say, ' Nothin' 'tall.' I 
 'loAV, ' Does Marse Gabe an' Miss Fanny know you 
 g\.ine? She say, ' No; I can't tell um.' 
 
 " Welliim, I flopt down on a cheer; yessum, I 
 sho' did. My jnin' wuz gwine like a v^hirligig an' 
 my head wuz swimmin'. I des sot dar an' look at 
 'er. Bimeby she up an' say, pickin' all de time at 
 her frock, ' I know'd sunip'n wuz gwine ter happen. 
 Dat de reason I been bringin' dem bundles here. 
 In dem ar bundles you'll fin' all de things I fotch 
 here. I ain't got nothin' dey give me 'cep'n dish 
 yer black dress I got on. I'd 'a' fotchc my ol' trunk, 
 but I dunner what dey done wid it. Hamp'll hatter 
 buy me one an' pay for it hisse'f, 'kaze I ain't got a 
 cent er money.' Dem de ve'y words she say. I 
 'low, * Sump'n must 'a' happen den.' She nodded, 
 an' bimeby she say, * Mr. Towers comin' home ter- 
 night. Dey done got a telegraph fum 'im,' 
 
 H 
 
 
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 " WHEN JESS WENT A-FIDDLIN' " 
 
 " I stood up in de flo', I did, an* ax *er, ' Which 
 Mr. Towers?* She say, ' Mr. Jesse Towers.' I *low, 
 * He done dead.' Shesay, * No, he ain*t; ef he wuz 
 he done come ter life; dey done got a telegraph fum 
 'im, I tell you.* ' Is dat de reason you gwine *way? ' 
 I des holla'd it at 'er. She draw'd a long breff an' 
 say, * Yes, dat's de reason.' 
 
 " I tell you right now, ma'm, I didn't know ef I 
 wuz stannin' on my head c floatin' in de a'r. I wuz 
 plum outdone. But dar she sot des es cool ez a cur- 
 cumber wid de dew on it. I went out de do', I did, 
 an' walk 'roun' de house once ter de right an' twice 
 ter de lef ' bekaze de ol' folks use ter tell me dat ef 
 you wuz bewitched, dat 'ud take de spell away. I 
 ain't tellin' you no lie, ma'm — fer de longes' kinder 
 minnit I didn't no mo' b'licve dat Miss Sadie wuz 
 settin' dar in my house tellin' me dat kinder riga- 
 marole, dan I b'lieve I'm flyin' right now. Dat 
 bein' de case, I bleeze ter fall back on bewitchments, 
 an' so I walk 'roun' de house. But when I went 
 back in, dar she wuz, settin' in a cheer an' lookin' 
 up at de rafters. 
 
 " Wellum, I went in an' drapt down in a cheer 
 an' lookt at 'er. Bimeby, I say, * Miss Sadie, does 
 you mean ter set dar an' tell me youer gwine 'way 
 'kaze yo' husban' comin' home?' She flung her 
 
 55 
 
 
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THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 arms behime 'er head, eho did, an' say, * I ain't none 
 er his wife; I des been playin' off! ' De way she 
 look an' de way she say it wuz 'miff fer me. I wuz 
 pairlized; yessum, I wuz dumfounder'd. Ef any- 
 body had des but totch me wid do tip er der finger, 
 I'd 'a' fell off'n dat cheer an' never stirred atter I 
 hit de flo'. Ever'thing 'bout de house lookt quare. 
 Miss Vallie had a lookin'-glass one time wid de pict- 
 ur' uv a church at de bottom. When de glass got 
 broke, she gimme de pictur', an' I sot it up on do 
 mantel-shelf. I never know'd 'fo' dat night dat do 
 steeple er der church wuz crooked. But dar 'twuz. 
 Mo' dan dat I cotch myse'f feelin'. er my fingers fer 
 ter see ef 'twuz me an' ef I wuz dar. 
 
 " Talk 'bout dreams ! dey wa'n't no dream could 
 beat dat, I don't keer how twisted it mought be. 
 An' den, ma'm, she sot back dar an' tol' me de whole 
 tale 'bout how she come ter be dar. I'll never tell it 
 like she did; dey ain't nobody in de wide worl' kin 
 do dat. But it seem like she an' Marse Jesse wuz 
 stayin' in de same neighborhoods, er stayin' at de 
 same place, ho a-fiddlin' an' she a-knockin' on de 
 peanner er de harp, I fergit which. Anyhow, dey 
 seed a heap er one an'er. Bof e un um had come dar 
 fum way off yan', an' ain't got nobody but deyse'f 
 fer ter 'pen' on, an' dat kinder flung um togedder. 
 
t I 
 
 ••WHEN JESS WENT A-FIDDLIN'" 
 
 I 'speck dey must er swapt talk 'bout love an' mar- 
 ryin' — you know yo'se'f, nia'm, dat dat's de way 
 young folks is. Howsomcver dat may be, Marse 
 Jesse, des ter tease 'er, sot down one day an' writ a 
 long letter ter his wife. Tooby slio' he ain't got no 
 wife, but he des make out he got one, an' dat ^etter 
 he lef layin' 'roun' whar Miss Sadie kin see it. 
 'Twa'n't in no envelyup, ner nothin', an' you know 
 mighty well, ma'm, dat when a 'oman, young er ol', 
 see dat kinder letter layin' 'roun' she'd die ef she 
 don't read it. Fum de way Miss Sadie talk, dat let- 
 ter must 'a' stirred up a coolness 'twix' um, kaze de 
 mornin' when he wuz gwine on dat 'scursion, Marse 
 Jesse pass by de place whar she wuz settin' at an' 
 flung de letter in her lap an' say, ' "What's in dar wuz 
 fer you.' 
 
 " Wellum, wid dat he wuz gone, an' de fus' newa 
 Miss Sadie know'd de papers wuz full er de names 
 er dem what got drownded in de boat, an' Marse 
 Jesse head de roll, 'kaze he wuz de mos' pop'lous 
 music-maker in de whole settlement. Den dar wuz 
 de gal an' de letter. I wish I could tell dis part like 
 she tol' me settin' dar in my house. You'll never git 
 it straight in yo' head less'n you'd 'a' been dar an' 
 hear de way she tol' it. Nigger ez I is, I know 
 
 mighty well dat a white 'oman ain't got no business 
 
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THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
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 parmin' 'erse'f off ez a man's w?.f e. But de way she 
 toF it tuck all de rough aidges off'n it. She wuz dar 
 in dat big town, wuss'n a wilderness, ez you may 
 say, by 'erse'f, nobody 'penin' on 'er an' nobody 
 ter 'pen' on, tired down an' plum wo' out, an' wid 
 all dem kinder longin's what you know yo'se'f, 
 ma'am, all wimmen bleeze ter have, ef dey er white 
 er ef dey er black. 
 
 " Yit she ain't never tol' nobody dat she wuz Marse 
 Jesse's wife. She des han' de letter what she'd kep' 
 ter Miss Fanny, an' fell down on de flo' in a dead 
 faint, an' she say dat ef it hadn't but 'a' been f er me, 
 she'd a got out er de bed dat fust night an' went 
 'way fum dar; an' I know dat's so, too, bekaze she 
 wuz ranklin' f er ter git up fum dar. But at de time 
 I put all dat down ter de credit er de deleeriums, an' 
 made 'er stay in bed. 
 
 " Wellum, ef I know'd all de books in de wor? 
 by heart, I couldn't tell you how I felt atter she 
 done tol' me dat tale. She sot back dar des ez calm 
 ez a baby. Bimeby she say, ' I'm 'glad I tol' you; 
 I feel better dan I felt in a mighty long time.' It 
 look like, ma'am, dat a load done been lift fum 'er 
 min'. Now I know'd pine blank dat sump'n gotter 
 be done, 'kaze de train'd be in at midnight, an' 
 den when Marse Jesse come dey'd be a tarrifyin' 
 
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 "WHEN JESS WENT A-FlDDLlN' *♦ 
 
 time at Gabe Towers's. Atter while I up an' ax 'er, 
 ' Miss Sadie, did you reely love Marse Jesse? ' She 
 pay, * Yes, I did ' — des so. I ax 'er, * Does you love 
 'im now? ' She say, * Yes, I does — an' I love dem 
 ar people up dar at de house; dat de reason I'm 
 gwine 'way.' She talk right out; she done come to 
 dc p'int whar she ain't got nothin' ter hide. 
 
 " I say, ' Well, Miss Sadie, dem folks up at de 
 house, dey loves you.' She sorter flincht at dis. 
 I 'low, * Dey been mighty good ter you. What 
 you done, you done done, an' dat can't be holp, but 
 what you ain't gone an' done, dat kin be holp; an' 
 what you oughter do, dat oughtn't ter be holp.' I 
 see 'er clinch 'er ban's an' den I riz fum de 
 cheer." Suiting the action to the word, Aunt 
 Minervy Ann rose from the step where she had 
 been sitting, and moved toward the lady of the 
 house. 
 
 " I riz, I did, an' tuck my stan' befo' 'er. I 'low, 
 
 ' You say you love Marse Jesse, an' you say you love 
 
 his folks. Well, den ef you got any blood in you, 
 
 ef you got any heart in yo' body, ef you got any 
 
 feelin' fer anybody in de roun' worl' 'cep'n' yo' 
 
 naked se'f, you'll go up dar ter dat house an' tell 
 
 Gabe Towers dat you want ter see 'im, an' you'll tell 
 
 Fanny Towers dat you want ter see her, an' you'll 
 
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TllK CHUONICLKS OV AUNT MINI5UVY ANN 
 
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 stnu' up befo' um nn' tt'U iiiii do tnlo you toV ter nie, 
 word for word. Ef you'll do dat, nn' you hatter 
 como back licro, come! come! IJleas Godl come! 
 an' mc an' Ilanip'll rnko an' scrape up 'nuff money 
 for tor kyar you whar you j2;wino. An' don't you bo 
 a'skoor'd or Qixhv Towers. Mo an' Marso Tundin 
 ain't a-skoor'd un 'ini. I'm gwino wid yon, an' of ho 
 say one word out de way, you dos como tor do do' 
 an' call mo, an' of I don't pronch his funor'l, it'll bo 
 bckazc de Lord'U strike mo dumb! ' An^ she 
 went!'' 
 
 Aunt Minorvy paused. Slu» had wrought the 
 miracle of summoninp; to life one of the crises 
 through which she luul passed with others. It was 
 not the words she used. There was nothing in 
 them to stir the heart or quicken the pulse. Her 
 power lay in the tones of her voice, whereby she was 
 able to recall the passion of a moment that had long 
 spent itself; in the fluent and responsive attitudes; 
 in gesticulation that told far more than her words 
 did. The light from the vestibule lamp shone full 
 upon her and upon the lady whom she luiconsciously 
 selected to play the part of the young woman whoso 
 story she was telling. The illusion was perfect. 
 We were in Aunt ]\linorvy Ann's house. Miss Sadie 
 was sitting helpless and hopeless before her — the 
 
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 "WHEN JKSS WKNT A-FIDDLIN* ♦♦ 
 
 wliolo scene was vivid and complete. She paused; 
 lier arm, which had bcc-n outHtretclied and rigid 
 for an instant, slowly fell to her side, and — the 
 illusion was gone; hut while it lasted, it was as 
 real as any sudden and extraordinary experience 
 can be. 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann resumed her seat, with a 
 chuckle, apparently ashamed that slu; had been be- 
 trayed into such a display of energy and emotion, 
 Baying, " Yessum, she sho' went." 
 
 " I don't wonder at it," remarked the lady of tho 
 house, with a long-drawn sigh of relief. 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann laughed again, rather sheep- 
 ishly, and then, after rubbing her hands together, 
 took up the thread of the narrative, this time direct- 
 ing her words to me : " All de way ter de house, suh, 
 sho ain't say two words. She had holt er my han', 
 but she ain't walk like she uz weak. She went along 
 ez peart ez I did. When we got dar, some er do 
 niggers wuz out in de flower gyarden an' out in de 
 big grove callin' 'er ; an' dey call so loud dat I hatter 
 put um down. ' IIusli up!' I say, ' an' go on 'bout 
 yo' business I Can't yo' Miss Sadie take a walk 
 widout a whole passel er you niggers a-hollerin' yo' 
 heads off? ' One un um make answer, ' Miss Fan- 
 ny huntin' fer 'er.' She sorter grip my ban' at dat, 
 
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 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 but I say, ' She de one you wanter see — her an' 
 Gabe Towers/ 
 
 " We went up on de po'ch, an* dar wuz Miss 
 Fanny an' likewise Marse Gabe. I know'd what 
 dey wanted; dey wanted ter talk wid 'er 'bout Marse 
 Jesse. She clum de steps fus' an' I clum atter 
 her. She cotch er 'breff hard when she fus' hit de 
 steps, an' den it come over me like a flash how 
 deep an' big her trouble wuz, an' I tell you right 
 now, ef dat had 'a' been Miss Vallie gwine up dar, 
 I b'lieve I'd 'a' flew at oF Gab Towers an' to' 'im 
 lim' fum lim' 'fo' anybody could 'a' pull me off. 
 Hit's de trufe! You may laugh, but I sho' would 
 'a' done it. I had it in me. Miss Fanny seed 
 sump'n wuz wrong, de minnit delight fell on de gal's 
 face. She say, * Why, Sadie, darlin', what de mat- 
 ter wid you? ' — des so — an' made ez ef ter put 'er 
 arms 'roun 'er; but Miss Sadie swunk back. Miss 
 Fanny sorter swell up. She say, * Oh, ef I've 
 hurt yo' feelin's ter-day — ter-day uv all de days 
 — please, please fergi' me! ' Well, suh, I dunner 
 whar all dis gwine ter lead ter, an' I put in, 
 * She des wanter have a talk wid you an' Marse 
 Gabe, Miss Fanny; an' ef ter-day is one er de 
 days her feelin's oughtn'ter be hurted, take keer 
 
 dat you don't do it. Kyar 'er in de parler dar, Miss 
 
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 "WHEN JESS WENT A-FlDDtIN»" 
 
 / 
 
 
 Fanny.' I 'speck you'll think I wnz takin' a mighty 
 heap on myse'f, fer a nigger 'oman," remarked 
 Aunt Minervy Ann, smoothing the wrinkles out of 
 her lap, " but I wuz des ez much at home in dat 
 house ez I wuz in my own, an' des ez free wid 
 um ez I wuz wid my own folks. Miss Fanny look 
 skeer'd, an' Marse Gabe foller'd atter, rubbin' a 
 little mole he had on de top er his head. When he 
 wus worried er aggervated, he allers rub dat mole. 
 " Well, suh, dey went in, dey did, an' I shot de 
 do' an' tuck up my stan' close by, ready fer to go in 
 when Miss Sadie call me. I had myse'f keyed up ter 
 de p'int whar I'd 'a' tol' Marse Gabe sump'n 'bout 
 his own fambly connection; you know dey ain't no- 
 body but what got i'on rust on some er der cloze. 
 But dey stayed in dar an' stayed, twel I 'gun ter git 
 oneasy. All kinder quare idees run th'oo my head. 
 Atter while some un pull de do' open, an' hoi' it dat 
 away, an' I hear Marse Gabe say, wid a trimble an' 
 ketch in his th'oat, ' Don't talk so, chil'. Ef you 
 done wrong, you ain't hurt nobody but yo'se'f, an' 
 it oughtn'ter hurt you. You been a mighty big 
 blessin' ter me, an' ter Fanny here, an' I wouldn't 
 'a' missed knowin' you, not fer nothin'. Wid dat, 
 he come out cle'rin up his th'oat an' blowin' Iiis nose 
 
 twel it souja' like a dinner-horn. His eye fell on me, 
 
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THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 an' he 'low, * Look like you er allers on han' when 
 dey's ti :>uble.' I made answer, * Well, Marse Gabe, 
 dey might be wusser ones 'roun' dan me.' He look 
 at me right hard an' say, * Dey ain't no better. Mi- 
 nervy Ann.' Well, suh, little mo' an' I'd 'a' broke 
 down, it come so sudden. I had ter gulp hard an' 
 quick, I tell you. He say, * Minervy Ann, go back 
 dar an' tell de house-gal ter wake up de carriage- 
 driver ef he's 'sleep, an' tell 'im to go meet Jesse 
 at de train. An' he mus' tell Jesse dat we'd 'a' 
 all come, but his ma ain't fcelin' so well.' I say, 
 * I'll go wake 'im up myse'f, suh.' I look in de 
 parler an' say, * Miss Sadie, does you need \ae 
 right now?' She 'low, 'No, not right now; I'll 
 stay twel — twel Mr. Towers come.' Miss Fa:my 
 wuz settin' dar holdin' Miss Sadie's han'. 
 
 " I'll never tell you how dey patcht it up in dar, 
 but I made a long gusss. Fus' an' fo'mus', dey wuz 
 right down fon' er Miss Sadie, an' den ef she run 
 off time Marse Jesse put his foot in de town dey'd 
 be a big scandal; an' so dey fix it up dat ef she wuz 
 bleeze ter go, 'twuz better to go a mont' er two atter 
 Marse Jesse come back. Folks may like you mighty 
 well, but dey allers got one eye on der own consarns. 
 Dat de way I put it down. 
 
 " Well, suh, de wuss job wuz lef ' fer de las', 'kaze 
 
 H 
 
It 
 
 "WHEN JESS WENT A-FIDDLIN'" 
 
 dar wuz Marse Jesse. Sump'n tol' me dat he 
 oughter know what been gwine on 'fo' he got in de 
 house, 'kaze den he won't be aggervated inter sayin' 
 an' doin' sump'n he oughtn'ter. So when de car- 
 riage wuz ready, I got in an' went down tcr de depot ; 
 an' when Marse Jesse got off de trein, I wuz de fus' 
 one he laid eyes on. I'd 'a' never know'd 'im in de 
 worl', but he know'd me. He holler out, 'Ef dar 
 ain't Aunt Minervy Ann! Bless yo' ol' soul! how 
 you come on anyhow? ' He come mighty nigh hug- 
 gin' me, he wuz so glad ter see me. He wuz big ez 
 a skinned noss an' strong ez a mule. He say, ' Ef 
 I had you in my min' once. Aunt Minervy Ann, I 
 had you in dar ten thousan' times.' 
 
 " Whiles de carriage rollin' 'long an' griudin' de 
 san' I try ter gi' 'im a kinder inkling er what been 
 gwine on, but 'twuz all a joke wid 'im. I wuz fear'd 
 I mought go at 'im de wrong way, but I can't do no 
 better. I say, ' Marse Jesse, yo' wife been waitin' 
 here fer you a long time.' He laugh an' 'low, * Oh, 
 yes! did she bring de childun? ' I say, ' Shucks, 
 Marse Jesse ! Dey's a lady in deep trouble at Marse 
 Gabe's house, an' I don't want you ter go dar jokin'. 
 She's a monst'us fine lady, too.' Dis kinder steady 
 'im, an' he say, ' All right. Aunt Minervy Ann ; I'll 
 behave myse'f des like a Sunday-school scholar. I 
 
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TllR CtinONrCLKS OF AltNT MtNKUVY ANN 
 
 won't Hay bad words nn' T won't talk loud.' IIo lind 
 hia fiddlc-cnso in his laj), an' ho drumnicd on it like 
 ho koopin' tinio tor sonic chunc in iiis niin'. 
 
 " Well, suh, wo got dnr in do duo tinio, an' *twuz 
 a groat luootin' 'twixt Marso ,loss(» nn' his folks. 
 T' y dos >swarniod on 'ini, oz you may say, an' vvliilo 
 dj,-» ;. ?ino on, I wont in do parlor whar Miss Sadio 
 uuz. Si -^ wuz palo, toohy sha', but slio had dono 
 firm'd 'erso'f. 8ho wuz standin' by do fior-placo, 
 lookin' down, but sho lookt up when alio hoar do 
 do' opon, an' don she say, ' I'm mighty glad it's 
 you, Aunt Alincrvy Ann; I want you tor stay in 
 hero.' I 'low, * I'll stay, honoy, of you say stay.' 
 Don she tuck 'or stand by mo an' ootch holt er my 
 arm wid bofc 'or ban's an' kinder leant ng'in mo. 
 
 " Bimcby, hero come ^farae Jesse. Trouble wiiz 
 in his eye when he opon de do', but when he saw de 
 gal, his face lit up dos like when you strike a matoh 
 in a closet. He say, * Why, Miss Sadie I You dun- 
 ncr how glad I is tor see you. I been huntin' all 
 over de country for you.' He make ez cf tor shako 
 ban's, but she draw'd back. Dis cut 'im. IIo say : 
 * What de matter? Who you in mournin' for? ' 
 She 'low, ' For mysc'f.' Wid dat she wuz gwine on 
 ter tel 'im 'bout what she had done, but he wouldn't 
 
 have it dat way. He say, ' When I come back ter 
 
 66 
 
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 "WHEN JESS WENT A-FIDDLIN'" 
 
 lifo, atter I wuz drowndcd, I 'giin tor hunt for you 
 dofl cz Boon's T f2;ot out'n do hoHpittle. I wuz huntiii' 
 for yon tor toll you dat I lovo you. I'd 'a' tol' you 
 dat den, an' I toll you dat now.' She grip my arm 
 mighty hard at dat. Marso Jcsao went on mightly. 
 lie tell 'or dat she ain't done nobody no harm, dat 
 she wuz welcome tor his name ef he'd 'a' been dead, 
 an' mo' welcome now dat he wuz li" ;. . She try ter 
 put in a word hero an' dar, but V >, w t have it. 
 Stan'in' up dar he wuz ol' Oabo '' -»vi ""s over ag'in; 
 *twuz do fus' time I know'd he Iwei J 'Im. 
 
 " He tol' 'or 'bout how ho ' Dc'.ed a do' off'n 
 one cr de rooms in do boat, an' how ho floated on dat 
 twel he got so col' an' num' dat he can't hoi' on no 
 longer, an' how he turn loose an' don't know nothin* 
 twel he wake up in some yuther town; an' how, 
 atter he git well, he had de plooisy an' lay dar a 
 mont' er two, an' den he 'gun ter hunt fer her. He 
 went 'way up dar ter Hampsher whar she come fum, 
 but she ain't dar, an' den he come home ; an' won't 
 she be good 'nuff ter set down an' listen at 'im? 
 
 " "Well, suh, dey wuz mo' in Llciise Jesse dan I 
 had any idee. He wuz a rank talker, sho*. I see 'er 
 face warmin' up, an' I say, ' Miss Sadie, I 'speck I 
 better be gwine.' Marse Jesse say, ' You ain't in 
 my way, Aunt Minervy Ann; I done foun' my 
 
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 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 sweetheart, an' I ain't gwine ter lose 'er no mo', 
 you kin des bet on dat.' She ain't say nothin' an' I 
 know'd purty well dat eve'y thing wiiz all skew vee." 
 
 " I hope they married," remarked the lady of the 
 house, after waiting a moment for Aunt Minervy 
 Ann to resume. There was just a shade of suspicion 
 in her tone. 
 
 " Oh, dey married, all right 'nuff," said Aunt 
 Minervy Ann, laughing. 
 
 " Didn't it create a good deal of talk? " the 
 lady asked, suspicion still in her voice. 
 
 " Talk? No, ma'ml De man what dey git de 
 license fum wuz Miss Fanny's br'er, Gus Feather- 
 stone, an' de man what married um wuz Marse 
 Gabe's bro'er, John Towers. Dey wa'n't nobody 
 ter do no talkin'. De nex' momin' me an Miss 
 Sadie an' Marse Jesse got in de carriage an' drove 
 out ter John Towers's place whar he runnin' a 
 church, an' 'twuz all done an' over wid mos' quick 
 ez a nigger kin swaller a dram." 
 
 " What do you think of it?" I -asked the lady of 
 the house. 
 
 " Why, it is almost like a story in a book." 
 
 " Does dey put dat kinder doin's in books? " asked 
 Aunt Minervy Ann, with some solicitude, 
 
 " Certainly," replied the lady. 
 
).) 
 
 "WHEN JESS WENT A-FIDDLIN* " 
 
 " Wid all de turmile, an' trouble, an' tribulation 
 — an' all de worry an' aggervation? Well, Hamp 
 wanted me ter I'am how ter read, but I thank my 
 stars dat I can't read no books. Dey's 'nu£f er all 
 dat right whar we live at widout huntin' it up in 
 books." 
 
 After this just observation, it was time to put out 
 the lights. 
 
 
 m 
 
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 HOW AUNT MINERVY ANN RAN AWAY AND 
 RAN BACK AGAIN 
 
 In the matter of attending the fair at Ilalcyon- 
 daJe, Aunt Minervy Ann's hospitable wishes jumped 
 with my own desires, and it was not difficult to give 
 her a hard and fast promise in the matter; nor did it 
 take the edge off my desires to entertain a suspicion, 
 verified long afterward, that Aunt Minervy Ann's 
 anxiety was based on a hope, expressed by Major 
 Perdue, that the fair would be properly handled in 
 the Atlanta papers. 
 
 The directors of the fair were represented at the 
 little railway station, at Ilalcyondale, by a commit- 
 tee, and into the hands of this committee fell every 
 man, woman, and child that stepped from the pass- 
 ing trains. It mattered little what the business of 
 these incoming travellers was; whether they came 
 to visit the fair or to attend to their own private af- 
 fairs. They were seized, bag and baggage, by the 
 
 committee and borne triumphantly to the hotel, or 
 
 70 
 
 y I 
 
now AUNT MINERVY ANN RAN AWAY 
 
 to a boarding-place, or to soino private house. The 
 members of the committee had a duty to perform, 
 and they performed it with an energy and a thor- 
 ougliness that was amazing if not altogether satis- 
 factory. As I remember, this vigorous body was 
 called the Committee on Public Comfort, and most; 
 heroically did it live up to its name and its duties. 
 
 These t! ''ngs I learned by observation and not by 
 experience, for before the train on which i \"3 a 
 passenger had cleared the suburbs of Atlanta, I 
 caught a glimpse of Major Tumlin Perdue, who had 
 long been a prominent citizen of Halcyondale. He 
 had changed but little during the ten years. His 
 hair was whiter, and he was a trifle thinner, but his 
 complexion was still rosy and his manners as buoy- 
 ant as ever. I doubted whether he would know 
 me again, though he had been very friendly with 
 me in the old days, seeming to know by instinct 
 just when and how to drop a word of encourage- 
 ment and appreciation, and so I forbore to renew 
 the acquaintance. The Major could be boisterous 
 enough in those times when in the humor, but when 
 at his best he had more ways like those of a woman 
 (and a noble and tender-hearted woman at that) 
 than any man I had ever known. He had a wom- 
 an's tact, intuition, and sympathy; and them quali- 
 
 71 
 
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 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 ties were so exquisitely developed in him that they 
 lifted him high in the estimation c{ a young man 
 who was living away from his mother, and who was 
 somewhat lonely on that account. 
 
 Presently, the Major came along the aisle for a 
 drink of water. As he was in the act of drinking, 
 his eyes met mine, and he recognized me instantly. 
 He swallowed the water with a gulp. 
 
 " Why, bless my soul! " he exclaimed, greeting 
 me with the simple cordiality that springs from an 
 affectionate nature. " Why, I wouldn't take ten 
 dollars for this ! I was thinking about you this very 
 day. Don't you remember the night we went out to 
 ku-klux the Ku-klux, and the chap that mighty 
 nigh broke his neck running into a wiro clothes-line? 
 I saw him to-day. He would hardly speak to me," 
 the Major went on, laughing heartily. " He's never 
 got over that night's business. I thought about you, 
 and I started to hunt you up; but you know how it 
 is in Atlanta. Folks ain't got time to eat, much less 
 to tell you where anybody lives* A man that's too 
 busy is bound to worry, and worry will kill him 
 every bit and grain as quick as John Barleycorn. 
 Business is bound to be the ruin of this country, and 
 if you don't live to see it, your children will." 
 
 Thus the Major talked, blending wisdom with 
 
 78 
 
HOW AUNT MINERVY ANN RAN AWAY 
 
 impracticable ideas in the most delightful way. He 
 seemed to be highly pleased when he found that I 
 was to spend a week at Halcyondale, attending the 
 fair and renewing old friendships. 
 
 " Then you belong to me! " he exclaimed. " It's 
 no use," he went on, shaking his head when I 
 would have protested against imposing on his good- 
 nature; " you needn't say a word. The tavern is 
 stuffed full of people, and even if it wasn't, you'd 
 go to my house. If you ain't been ruined by living 
 in Atlanta, it'll seem like home to you. Dang it all! 
 I'll mahe it seem like home to you anyhow." 
 
 ]^ow, the affectation of hospitality is one of the 
 commonest hypocrisies in life, and, to a thoughtful 
 man, one of the most sinister; but the Major's hos- 
 pitality was genuine. It was brought over from the 
 times before the war, and had stood the test of age 
 and long usage, and, most trying of all, the test of 
 poverty. " If you were welcome when I was well 
 off, how much more welcome you'll be now that I 
 am poor I " This was not said by the Major, but by 
 one of his contemporaries. The phrase fitted a 
 whole generation of noble men and women, and I 
 thank Heaven that it was true at one time even if it 
 is not true now. 
 
 When the train, with much clinking and clank- 
 
 78 
 
 I 
 
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 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 ing and hissing, came to a standstill at Halcyondale, 
 the Major hustled me off on the side opposite the 
 station, and so I escaped the ordeal of resisting the 
 efforts of the Committee on Public Comfort to con- 
 vey me to a lodging not of my own selection. The 
 Major's buggy was in waiting, with a negro driver, 
 who got out to make room for me. He bowed very 
 politely, calling me by name. 
 
 " You remember Hamp, I reckon," said the Ma- 
 jor. " He was a member of the Legislature when 
 you lived here." 
 
 Certainly I remembered Hamp, who was Aunt 
 Minervy Ann's husband. I inquired about her, and 
 Hamp, who had swung up to the trunk-rack as 
 the buggy moved off, replied that she was at home 
 and as well as she could be. 
 
 " Yes," said the Major, " she's at my house. You 
 may see somebody else besides Minervy Anji, but 
 you won't hear anybody else. She owns the whole 
 place and the people on it. I had a Boston man to 
 dinner some time ago, one of Gonant's friends — 
 you remember Paul Conant, don't you? — and I 
 stirred Minervy Ann up just to see what the man 
 would say. We had a terrible quarrel, and the man 
 never did know it was all in fun. He said they 
 
 never would have such a lack of discipline among 
 
 74 
 
HOW AUNT MlNERVY ANN HAN AWAY 
 
 the servants in Boston. I told him I would give him 
 any reasonable amount if he would go out and dis- 
 cipline Minervy Ann, just to show me how it was 
 done. It would have been better than a circus. 
 You heard her, didn't you, Hamp? " 
 
 Hamp chuckled good-naturedly. " Yasser, I did, 
 an^ it make col' chills run over me ter hear how 
 Minervy Ann went on. She cert'n'y did try herse'f 
 dat day." 
 
 The Major smiled a little proudly as I thought, 
 slapped the horse — a bob-tailed black — with the left 
 rein, and we went skimming along the level, sandy 
 street at a three-minute gait. In a short while we 
 were at the Major's house, where I received a warm 
 welcome from his daughter, whom I had known 
 when she was a school-girl. She was now Mrs. Paul 
 Conant, and even more beautiful as a matron than 
 she had been as a girl. I had also kno^^^Ti her hus- 
 band, who had begun his business career in the town 
 a year or two before I left, and even at that time he 
 was one of the most prominent and promising young 
 business men in the town. 
 
 He had served in the army the last year of the 
 war, and the service did him a world of good, physi- 
 cally and mentally. His faculties were broadened 
 
 and enlarged. Contact with all sorts and conditions 
 
 75 
 
 m 
 
 li 
 
 .4 
 
 ■li 
 
• 
 
 THIi CHIidNtCLES 01* ALWT MlNERVV ANN 
 
 of men gave him ample knowledge of his kind, and 
 yet he kept in touch with the finer issues of life. He 
 was ripened and not hardened. 
 
 The surrender had no such crushing effects on 
 him as it had on older men. It left him youth, and 
 where youth is there must be hope and energy. He 
 returned home, remained a few weeks, sold a couple 
 of horses he had picked up in the track of ? ' erman's 
 army, and then went into the office of a cotton factor 
 in Savannah, giving his services for the knowledge 
 and experience he desired to gain. In a -^-oiy short 
 time he learned all the secrets of sanipilng and 
 grading the great staple. He might have remained 
 in the office at a salary, for his aptness had made him 
 useful, but he preferred to return to Ilalcyondale, 
 where he engaged in buying c(j- ' '»n on iiis own ac- 
 count. The; u was just enough risk in this to stimu- 
 late his energit^, .-iul not enough to lead to serious 
 specula Jon. 
 
 To this business he added others as his capital 
 grew, and he was soon the most prosperous man in 
 the town. He had formed the stock company under 
 whose auspices the county fair was held, and was 
 president of the board of directors. 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann was very much in evidence, 
 
 for she acted as cook, nurse, and house-girl. The 
 
 76 
 
?^.«r .-.-i i- 
 
 Buying' cotton on hi .>vn account. 
 
 'I 
 
 V 
 
 II 
 
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 HOW AUNT MINERVY ANN RAN AWAY 
 
 first glimpse I had of her, she had a bucket of water 
 in her right hand and Conant's baby — a bouncing 
 boy — on her left arm. Just then Major Perdue 
 hustled me off to my room, thus postponing, as I 
 thought, the greeting I had for Aunt Minervy Ann. 
 But presently I heard her coming upstairs talking 
 to herself. 
 
 " Ef dey gwine ter have folks puttin' up wid um, 
 dey better tell me in de due time, so I can fix up f er 
 mn. Dey ain't been no fresh water in deze rooms 
 sence dat baby wuz bom'd." 
 
 She went on to the end of the hall and looked in 
 each of the rooms. Then, with an exclamation I 
 failed to catch, she knocked at my door, which was 
 promptly opened. As she saw me a broad smile 
 flashed over her good-natured face. 
 
 " I 'low'd 'twuz you," she said, " an' I'm mighty 
 glad you come." She started to pour the water 
 from can to pitcher, when suddenly she stayed her 
 hand. "With the exclamation, " Well, ef dis don't 
 bang my time! " she went to the head of the stairs 
 and cried out: "Miss Yallie! Miss Vallie! you 
 don't want no town folks stuck in dish yer back 
 room, does you?" 
 
 " "Why, certainly not! " cried the lady. " "What 
 
 covJd father have been thinking of? " 
 
 77 
 
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 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 " Shool he like all de men folks," responded 
 Aunt Minervy Ann. 
 
 With that she seized my valise with one hand, 
 and, carrying the can of water in the other, escorted 
 me to one of the front rooms. It was an improve- 
 ment on the back room only because it had more 
 windows to admit the air and light. I put in a word 
 for the Major, which I hoped would be carried to 
 the ears of the daughter. 
 
 " The Major gave me that room because he 
 wanted to treat me as if I were one of the home 
 folks. Now you've brought me here, and I'll feel 
 as uncomfortable as if I were company, sure 
 enough." 
 
 " Dey's sump'n in dat, I 'speck," replied Aunt 
 Minervy Ann, laughing; " but, lawsy, massy I you 
 done been in dis house too much ter talk dat-a-way. 
 When kin folks come home, we alius gin um de bes' 
 dey is fer de fus' week er so. Atter dat dey kin 
 rustle 'roun' fer deyse'f." 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say that Aunt Minervy 
 Ann took very good care that I should want for 
 none of those little attentions that sharpen the ip- 
 preciation of a guest; and, in her case, obtrusive- 
 ness was not a fault, for her intentions shone clearly 
 and unmistakably through it all. 
 
 79 
 
 -JS. 
 
HOW AUNT MINKRVY ANN RAN AWAY 
 
 Major Perdue had the art of entertainment at his 
 fingers' ends, which, though it is very simple, not one 
 man in a hundred learns. It is the knack of leaving 
 the guest to his own devices without seeming to do 
 80. Most fortunate in his gifts is the host who 
 knows how to temper his attentions! 
 
 In his efforts to get the fair under way, Paul Co- 
 nant found it impossible to come to dinner, but sent 
 his apologies. 
 
 " You'll think it is a mighty small concern when 
 you see it," said the Major, " but it takes all that 
 Paul can do to keep it from getting into a tangle. 
 He has to be here, there, and everywhere, and there 
 hasn't been a minute for a week or more but what 
 forty people were hollering at him at once, and forty 
 more pulling and hauling him about. If he wasn't 
 a steam-engine, he couldn't hold out half an hour." 
 
 " Well, he'll soon straighten matters out," said I, 
 " and then they'll stay so." 
 
 "That's so," remarked the Major; "but when 
 that's done, he'll have to rush around from post to 
 pillar to keep 'em straight." 
 
 " Did he seem to be greatly worried? " Valentine 
 asked. 
 
 " No-o-o-o," replied the Major, slowly and hesi- 
 tatingly, " but I'm af ear'd his shoulder has begim 
 
 7d 
 
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 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MlNERVY ANN 
 
 to trouble him again." He leaned back in his chair 
 and looked at the ceiling, apparently lost in thought. 
 
 " Why should you think that, father? " 
 
 " Once or twice, whilst he was rustling about I 
 saw him fling his hand to his shoulder and hold it 
 there, an(^ I'm mightily afear'd it's hurting him." 
 The Major drew a deep sigh as he spoke, and silence 
 fell on all. It was brief, but it was long enough for 
 one to know that an unpleasant subject had been 
 touched on — that there was something more behind 
 it all than a pain in Conant's shoulder. Aunt Mi- 
 nervy Ann, who was equal to every emergency, 
 created a diversion with the baby, and the Major 
 soon pulled himself together. 
 
 Paul Conant came home to supper, and in the 
 sitting-room, before the meal was announced, I ob- 
 served that the Major was as solicitous about him 
 as a mother is of her baby. His eyes were constantly 
 on his son-in-law, and if the latter showed any sign 
 of worry, or frowned as if in pain, a shadow would 
 pass over the Major's genial face. 
 
 This intense solicitude was something out of the 
 usual order, and I wondered what was behind it. 
 But the next day it was forgotten, nor was it remem- 
 bered until Aunt Minervy Ann reminded me of it. 
 I had been faithful in my attendance on the fair, 
 
 80 
 
I < 
 
 How AUNT MINERVY ANN RAN AWAY 
 
 had listened patiently to the speeches, and had then 
 tried to refresh my benumbed faculties with such 
 fare as could be found on the grounds — barbecue, 
 pickles, and ginger-cakes. But the occasion had 
 been too much for me, and so, about two o'clock in 
 the afternoon, I decided to return to my quarters at 
 Major Perdue's home and rest my weary limbs. 
 The very thought of the quiet and cool house was re- 
 freshing, and so, without waiting for a conveyance, 
 I set out on foot, going through the woods in pref- 
 erence to the public highway, thereby cutting the 
 distance short by nearly a mile. 
 
 A great many others had taken advantage of the 
 short-cut through the woods, so that I had no lack 
 of company. Among them I noticed Aunt Minervy 
 and her husband, Hamp, the latter carrying the 
 Conant baby, which, having had enough of the 
 pomps and vanities of this life for the time being, 
 was now fast asleep. I soon came up with the trio, 
 and we went along home together. 
 
 " You toughed it out mighty well, suh," re- 
 marked Aunt Minervy Ann, after some talk 
 about the various attractions of the fair. " Up 
 dar in Atlanty dezo kinder doin's would be 
 laughed at, I 'speck, but hit's de bes' we-all 
 kin do. Me an' Miss Vallie had some truck 
 
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 THE CHRONICLES OF AtJNT MlNERVY ANN 
 
 dar, speshually dat ar grape jelly on de right 
 han' side. Ef dat jellj don't git de blue ribbon er 
 sump'n better, hit'll be bakaze dem ar jedgment 
 men ain't got no sense — I don't keer who dey is. 
 Ain't you see dat ar quilt hangin' up dar wid a pat- 
 tern in it like a well-whorl, only de middle er de 
 whorl was shape like de mornin' star? Dat ar quilt 
 is older dan what you is, suh — lots older. Me an' 
 Mistiss made dat quilt long 'fo' Miss Vallie wuz 
 bom, an' dish yer baby'U tell you she ain't no chick- 
 en. Ef dey's any purtier quilt on dat hill dey had 
 it hid ter-day; dey ain't brung it out whar folks kin 
 look at it. I dunno much, but I knows dat much." 
 
 We reached the house after awhile, and I lost no 
 time in stretching myself out on a lounge that sat 
 invitingly in the hall behind the stairway. It was 
 not the coolest place in the world; but, really, when 
 one is fagged out, it is unnecessary to try to find all 
 the comforts of life in one spot. Sleep fell on me 
 unawares, and when I awoke. Aunt Minervy Ann 
 was sitting near the head of the lounge fanning me. 
 Such courtesy was surprising, as well as pleasing, but 
 I chid her for taking so much trouble, for I had slept 
 nearly two hours. But f he made light of it, saying 
 she had nothing else to do, the baby being in his 
 cradle and sleeping like a log. 
 
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 "Dat ar grape jelly on de right han' side." 
 
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 11 
 
 HOW AUNT MINERVY ANN RAN AWAY 
 
 Then, to enjoy a smoke, I drew a rocking-chair 
 into the back porch, and proceeded to fill my pipe 
 with what I regarded as a very good brand of to- 
 bitcco, offering some to Aunt Minervy Ann. She 
 soon found her pipe — clay bowl and reed stem — 
 cleaned it out carefully and filled it from my pouch. 
 
 " It look mighty pale, suh," she remarked. " I 
 *speck dey steam it 'fo* dey mash it up." She seated 
 herself on the top step, lit her pipe, took a few whiffs, 
 and then shook her head. " 'Tain't nigh rank 'nuff 
 for me, suh. Hit tas'e like you er dreamin' 'bout 
 smokin' an* know all de time 'tain't nothin' but a 
 dream." She knocked the tobacco out, and then re- 
 filled the pipe with the crumbs and cutting from the 
 end of a plug. This she smoked with an air of su- 
 preme satisfaction. 
 
 " I 'speck you got de idee dat I better be seein' 
 'bout supper, stidder settin' up here lookin' biggity. 
 But 'tain't no use, suh. Marse Tumlin and Miss 
 Vallie never is ter come home dis day less'n dey 
 bring Marse Paul wid um. I done hear um sesso. 
 An' I know mighty well, deyer gwine tor come back 
 late, bekaze Paul Conant's one er dem kinder folks 
 what go twel dey can't go, an' when dey git down 
 dey make motions like dey gwine. Dey puts me in 
 mind uv a lizard's tail, suh. Knock it off, an' it'll 
 
THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 ; 
 
 hop 'bout an* work an' wiggle plum twel de sun go 
 down." 
 
 I suggested that the illustration was somewhat 
 inapt (though not in those words), for the reason 
 that Paul Conant's energy was not expended blind- 
 ly. But I found that Aunt Minervy knew what she 
 was saying. 
 
 " I ain't talkin' 'bout his own business, suh, be- 
 kaze dey ain't nobody beat 'im at dat. No, suh; 
 I'm talkin' 'bout dem ar doin's out dar at de fair 
 groun's. He's a-workin' at dat lots harder dan ho 
 has ter work fer.hisse'f. Maybe you tuck notice 
 uv de way dem yuther folks done out dar, suh. Dey 
 stood 'round wid dey mouf open, an' de ribbon 
 pinned on der coats, an' when sump'n had ter be 
 done, dey'd call out fer Conant. It 'uz * Conant! * 
 here an' ' Conant! ' dar, an' ef Conant wuz out er 
 hearin' de whole shebang had ter stop right still an* 
 wait twel Conant kin be dragged up. I watched um 
 p'intedly, suh, an' it's des like I tell you." 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann's characterization of the di- 
 rectors was so acute and so unexpected that I 
 laughed — not at what she said, but at the vivid pict- 
 ure of a lot of helpless men standing about, full of 
 dignity, and yet waiting for young Conai;it to tell 
 
 them what to do. 
 
 84 
 
HOW AUNT MINERVY ANN RAN AWAY 
 
 "You may laugh, suh," Aunt Minervy Ann 
 went on with a little frown, " but I'm tellin' you de 
 Lord's trufe. I kep' my eyes on um, an' 'twuz dat- 
 a-way fum soon dis momin' 'twel I got mad an' 
 come home. You kin ax Hamp, suh, an' he'll tell 
 you de same. I reckon you heer'd Marse Tumlin 
 las' night at de table ax Marse Paul ef his shoulder 
 hurted 'im. I know you did, suh, bekaze I tuck 
 notice how you looked, an' I tried ter shake de baby 
 up so he'd cry, but dat wuz one er de times, suh, 
 when he wouldn't be shuck up. Any udder time 
 dat chil' would er laid back an' blated twel you'd 
 haf ter put yo' fingers in yo' years. I wuz mad wid 
 'im, suh, but I wuz bleedz ter laugh. Chillun 
 mighty funny. When you don't want um ter 
 cry, dey'll holler der he.ads off, an' when you 
 want um ter cry, dey'll laugh in yo' face. I 
 bet you dey's a blue place on dat baby's arm 
 whar I pinched 'im, but he didn't no mo' min' it 
 dan nothin'." 
 
 " Well," said I, " there was something peculiar 
 in the way all of you looked and acted when the Ma- 
 jor asked about Mr. Conant's shoulder. It was a 
 very simple question." 
 
 "Ah, Lord I " exclaimed Aunt Minervy Ann, 
 raising her right hand on high, " dey better ax 'bout 
 
 8& 
 
\ 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 dat shoulder. Yesserl ev'y day an' ev'y night, an' 
 in betwixt times." / 
 
 " Is Mr. Conant troubled with rheumatism? " I 
 inquired. 
 
 "RheumatizI bless yo' soul, honey! Ef 'twuz 
 rheumatiz dey wouldn't be no Paul Conant 'round 
 dis house, ner no Conant baby." 
 
 Here is something decidedly interesting, I 
 thought, but held my peace, knowing that whatever 
 it was would be more quickly disclosed if there were 
 any disclosure to make. '^ 
 
 " Ain't you never hear 'bout it, suh? "Well dat 
 bangs me! An' you right up dar in Atlanty, too! 
 No, suh; you must er been in Savanny, bekaze 
 'twuz de town talk in Atlanty. Anyhow, whar^ 
 somever you wuz er might er been, dey ain't no 
 rheumatiz de matter wid Marse Paul Conant's 
 shoulder-blade. I know dat much, an' I know it 
 mighty well, bekaze I wuz right here in dis house, 
 an' nowhars else 'cep'n 'roun' de lot an' up town an' 
 back. . 
 
 " Well, den, suh, ef you ain't never hear 'bout 
 dat, I most know you ain't never hear tell er how 
 I run'd off, and how I run'd back, bekaze nobody 
 ain't never talk 'bout dat — leas'ways, not as I knows 
 
 un 
 
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 9ft, 
 
HOW AUNT MINERVY ANN RAN AWAY 
 
 I declared to Aunt Minervy Ann that I never 
 heard a whisper of it. She leaned back against the 
 railing of the steps and drew a long whiff from her 
 pipe. 
 
 " 'Tain't no use ter tell you, suh, how times wuz 
 right atter de war. You wuz right in um, an' ef you 
 don't know, it's bekaze you didn't look 'roun' an' 
 see um. I hear um say, suh, dat niggers wuz po' 
 when dey come free. Dey wuz, suh; dey wuz rank 
 pizen po'; but dey never wuz in dis worl' a nigger 
 ez po' ez some er our white folks wuz. You may 
 shake yo' haid, suh, but I'm givin' you de straight 
 gov'nment trufe. Niggers is use ter bein' po', an' 
 dey never wuz dat po' dat dey can't scufl9ie 'roun' 
 an' make out somehow. Dey er been po' so long 
 dey er usen ter it. But white folks what been rich! 
 I hope de Lord'U call me home 'f o' I see again what 
 I done saw in dam days. I know in reason, suh, 
 dat I seed mo' er de trouble dan what you did, kaze 
 you couldn't go in at de back gates like me; an' 
 what trouble folks does have dey allers keep it 
 somers betwix' de bedroom an' de back gate. 
 
 " De Perdues wa'n't no wuss off dan nobody else. 
 Marse Tumlin had dish yer house an' lot, an' de 
 plantation, an' some Ian' way off yander. But all 
 4e bosses an' mules an' cattle been tuck off, an' de 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 niggers all gone. Ef he'd er stayed on de planta- 
 tion, de niggers would 'a' been dar yit, but stay he 
 wouldn't, an' stay he didn't, an' so dar he wuz. 
 
 " Do sump'n? What he gwine do? Fo' de big 
 turmoil he done some lawin' an' a heap er farmin'. 
 Leas'ways my ol' Mistiss done de farmin', an' Marse 
 Tumlin, he done de lawin'. He had 'im a office here 
 in town, an' on set days he'd come in an' look arter 
 de cases what he had. But how anybody gwine ter 
 do any lawin' dat-a-way? Marse Tumlin ain't keer- 
 in' whedder he git one case er none. He ain't 
 bleedze ter do no lawin'. An' den 'pon top 
 er dat he went off whar dey battlin', an' dar he 
 stayed, an' when he come back, look like de kinder 
 lawin' what he use ter do done gone outer fashion. 
 Ef he hadn't er been holp out, suh, I dunner what'd 
 'a' come un 'im. An' 'twa'n't only Marse Tumlin. 
 Dey wuz a whole passel un um, too young ter die 
 an' too ol' ter win money in dem kinder times. Ef 
 you ain't ol' 'nuff ter 'member dem times, suh, you 
 kin thank de Lord, kaze dey sho did look like tetotal 
 ruination. 
 
 " Now, you know yo'se'f, suh, dat you can't eat 
 
 a house an' lot an' live dar too; an' you can't eat Ian' 
 
 des dry so less'n you got a mighty appetite fer dirt. 
 
 Whyn't he sell de Ian' ? You oughter be de las' one 
 
 88 
 
 i 
 
HOW AUNT MINERVY ANN RAN AWAY 
 
 eat 
 
 llan' 
 
 lirt. 
 
 lone 
 
 ter ax me dat, 8uh. Whogwine buy it? Dem what 
 ain't; got Ian' ain't had no money, an' dem what had 
 money sholy lived a mighty long ways fum here. 
 Day in an' day out, suh, I wuz de wuss pester'd 
 nigger you ever laid eyes on. I ain't know what 
 ter do. 
 
 " An' den 'pon top er dat, dar wuz Hamp, my ol' 
 man. When freedom come out, he tuck de notion 
 dat we better go off some'rs an' change de name 
 what we got so dey can't put us back in slave'y. 
 Night an' day it fair rankle in his rain', an' he kep' 
 groanin' an' growlin' 'bout it twel I got stirred up. 
 I oughtn't ter tell it, suh, but hit's de Lord's trufe. 
 I got mad, I did, an' I tol' Hamp I'd go. An' den 
 I wa'n't doin' no good stayin' here. 'Twuz des 
 one mo' mouf ter feed, an' mo' dan one, countin' 
 Hamp. So, bimeby, one day, when I wuz sorter 
 fretted, I tol' Hamp ter go on out dar in de coun- 
 try, whar his daddy live at, an' I'd meet 'im dar 
 'fo' night. 
 
 " When de time come, I went in de house an* 
 hunt fer Miss Vallie. She 'uz settin' in de parlor 
 by de winder, but behime de curtain like, so nobody 
 can't see 'er. She 'uz settin' dar wid 'er ban's 
 crossed on 'er lap, an' she look so little, an' pale, an' 
 weak, dat I come mighty nigh gwine right back in 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 de kitchen. But she seed me too quick. Den T 
 up'n tell 'er dat I'm gwine out in de country, ter 
 whar Hamp daddy live at. She look at me right 
 hard an' say, * When you comin' back, Aunt Mi- 
 nervy Ann? ' I 'low, ' I'm comin' back des ez soon 
 ez I kin make my 'rangements, honey.' She say, 
 * Well, I hope you'll have a good time while you er 
 gone.' I 'low, * Thanky, ma'm.' Wid dat I went 
 an' got my bundle an' put opt fum dar — an' I ain't 
 look back nudder, bekaze I had a mighty weakness 
 in de knees, an' a mighty risin' in my th'oat. 
 
 " I went on down de road, an' ef anybody had so 
 much ez said hoo tor me, I'd 'a' turned right 'roun* 
 an' gone back home. I went on, I did, twel I come 
 ter de mile branch. I see somebody crossin' on de 
 log, an' when I come up wid um, who should it 'a' 
 been but Marse Tumlin. An' he had one chicken! 
 He had been out ter de plantation — sev'm mile ef its 
 fifty yards — an' here he wuz comin' back wid one 
 chicken — an' him a walkin', him dat use ter ride 
 'roun' in his carriage ! Walkin' an' totin' one little 
 chicken! Man, suh! I don't never want ter feel 
 again like I felt den. Whedder 'twuz de chicken, 
 er what, I never did see Marse Tumlin Perdue look 
 ez 'ol' an' ez weasly ez he did den. He look at me 
 
 an' sorter laugh like I done cotch 'im doin' sump'n 
 
 90 
 
 I 
 
 •:> 
 
 I' 
 
:i,[^-^^-' 
 
 •#'■'*> .1'''-. " 
 
 A»> ,f_---it .*, Ill r-.„..- 
 
 ;t " fe 
 
 
 "Drapt down on de groun' dar an' holler an' cry." 
 
-).^l 
 
 : I 
 
 
1,1 
 
 
 HOW AUNT MINERVY ANN KAN AWAY 
 
 he ain't got no business ter do. But dey "wa'n't no 
 laugh in me; no, suh, not by a jugful. 
 
 "He say, * Hello, Minervy Ann! whar you 
 gwine? ' I 'low, I did, * I'm des gwine out yander 
 whar Hamp kinnery live at.' 
 
 " He sorter pull his goatee, an' look down at de 
 dus' on his shoes — an' dey wuz fair kiver'd wid it — 
 an' den he say, * Well, Minervy Ann, I wish you 
 mighty well. You sho is done a mighty good part 
 by me an' mine. Ef yo' Miss Mary wuz 'live she'd 
 know what ter say — I don't, 'cep' dis ' — he straight- 
 en up an' stretch out his han' — ' 'cep' dis: when- 
 ever you want ter come back home, you'll fin' de 
 do' open. Ef you come at night, des knock. "We'll 
 know yo' knock.' 
 
 " You ain't never seed no fool nigger 'oman cut 
 up, is you? Well, ef you does see one, suh, I hope 
 ter goodness 'twon't be me! Marse Tumlin ain't no 
 mo'n got de words out'n his mouf, suh, 'fo' I tuck 
 de bundle what I had in my han', an' flung it fur ez 
 I could send it. 
 
 " Marse Tumlin look at me hard, an' den he say, 
 * Dam ef I u. jn't b'lieve youer crazy ! ' Time he say 
 it, I 'low, ' I donH keer sr dam ef I is ! ' 
 
 " Yasser! I say it sho, an' den I drapt down on 
 
 de groun' dar an' holler an' cry like somebody wuz 
 
 91 
 

 I* 
 
 I, 
 
 it 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 beatin' de life out'n me. Marse Tumlin stood dar 
 puUin* at his goatee all dat time, an' bimeby I got 
 up. I wasn't f eelin' much better, but I done had my 
 cry an' dat's sump'n. I got up, I did, an' start back 
 de way I come. 
 
 " Marse Tumlin say, * Whar you gwine, Minervy 
 Ann? I 'low, ' I'm gwine back home — dat's whar 
 I'm gwine! ' He say, * Pick up yo' bundle.' Wid 
 dat I turn 'roun' on him an' 'low, ' I ain't gwine ter 
 do it! Ef it hadn't er been fer dat ar muslin drees 
 in dar, what Miss Vallie make over an' gi' me, I'd 
 been at home right dis minute.' 
 
 " He 'low, * What dat got ter do wid it, Minervy 
 Ann? ' I make answer, * Bekaze ol' Satan mp.ke me 
 want ter put it on an' she' off 'f o' dem country nig- 
 gers out dar whar Hamp's folks live at.' "Wid dat 
 I start back home, but Marse Tumlin holler ft, mi — 
 * Minervy Ann, take dis chicken.' I tuck it^ I did, 
 an' made off up de road. Bimeby I sorter flung my 
 eye 'roun', an', bless gracious 1 dar wuz Marse Tum- 
 lin comin' 'long totin' my bundle. Well, suh, it 
 flewed all over me like fier. I got so mad wid my- 
 se'f dat I could 'a' bit a piece out'n my own f 3sh. 
 
 " I waited in de road twel he come up, an' den I 
 snatched de bundle out er his han'. I 'low, * I ain't 
 
 gwine ter have you totin' none er my bundles in de 
 
 93 
 
HOW AUNT MINERVY ANN RAN AWAY 
 
 I 
 
 public road— no, ner no chickens, needer.* He say, 
 
 * Well, don't fling it 'way, Minervy Ann. De time 
 may come when yo' Miss Vallie'U need dat ar mus- 
 lin dress.' ' 
 
 " When we got back home I went in de kitchen, 
 an' fix ter clean an' kill de chicken. I 'speck Marse 
 Tumlin must 'a' tol' Miss Vallie 'bout it, bekaze 
 'twan't long 'fo' I hear her runnin' 'long de plank 
 walk ter de kitchen. She whipt in de do' she did, 
 an' grab me an' cry like I done riz fum de dead. 
 Well, suh, niggers ain't got no sense, you kin take 
 um de world over. No sooner is Miss Vallie start 
 ter cry dan I chuned up, an' dar we had it. 
 
 " 'Bout dat time, Marse Tumlin, he come out — 
 men folks is allers gwine some'rs dey got no busi- 
 ness. He 'low, * What you'all blubberin' 'bout?' 
 I make answer, * We er cryin' over dese two chick- 
 ens.' He ax, * What two chickens? ' I 'low, * I'm 
 cryin' over dis un, kaze it's so little, an' Miss Vallie 
 cryin' over de one what you ain't brung. He say, 
 
 * Well, I be dang I ' an' wid dat he went back in de 
 house. 
 
 " An' den, atter supper, such ez 'twuz, here como 
 
 Hamp, an' he say he come ter lay de law down. I 
 
 'speck I like my ol' man 'bout ez good ez any udder 
 
 'oman what's lawfully married, but ef I didn't put a 
 
 93 
 

 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 flea in Hamp year dat night you may shoot me dead. 
 Ef he'd *a' waited a day er two, hit might er been 
 diffunt; but, manlike, he had ter come at de wrong 
 time, an' he ain't open his mouf 'f o' I wuz fightin* 
 mad. 01' Miss allers use ter tell me I wuz a bad 
 nigger when I got my dander up, but I never did 
 look at myse'f dat-a-way twel dat night. 
 
 " Well, Hamp he come an' stood in de do', but I 
 ain't say nothin'. Den he come in de kitchen, an' 
 Stan' 'roun', but still I ain't "ay nothin'. Den he sot 
 down next de chimbley, but all dat time I ain't say 
 nothin'. He look right pitiful, suh, an' ef I hadn't 
 been mad, I'd 'a' been sorry f er 'im. But I ain't say 
 nothin'. 
 
 " Bimeby, he 'low, * 'Nervy ' — he allers call me 
 'Nervy — * 'Nervy, whyn't you go whar you say 
 you gwine? ' I flung myse'f 'roun' at 'im an' say, 
 
 * Bekaze I ain't choosen ter go — dar you got it! ' 
 He 'low, * Well, you start ter go, kaze I seed youl ' 
 I say, * Yes, an' I start ter come back, an' you'd 'a' 
 seed dat ef you'd 'a' looked right close.' He 'low, 
 
 * 'Nervy, don't you know dem folks in yander'U 
 
 think you b'long to um? ' I say, * I does. Ain't I 
 
 free? Can't I b'long to um ef I wanter? I'd like ter 
 
 see de one ter hender me. What dey (lone ter you? 
 
 An' what's I done ter you dat you want ter drag me 
 
 94 
 
 V 
 
HOW AUNT MINERVY ANN RAN AWAY 
 
 Vay fmn my white folks? You go drag you*se'f — 
 you can't drag me.' He 'low, * Dey done begin ter 
 call you a white-folks nigger, an' dey say you gwine 
 back on yo' own color.' " 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann paused here to laugh. "Mad 
 ez I wuz, suh, de minnit Hamp said dat I know'd I 
 had ter change my chune. I 'low, * I know right 
 pine-blank who tol' you dat. 'Twan't nobody in 
 de roun' worl' but ol' Cely Ensign, an' she ain't tell 
 you dat in comp'ny, needer. She tol' you whar no- 
 body can't hear 'er but you. Don't you fret ! des ez 
 soon ez I git thoo wid supper, I'm gwine 'roun' dar 
 an' drag 'er out an' gi' 'er de wuss frailin' any nig- 
 ger ever got sence de overseers quit bizness. I ain't 
 f ergot dat ar' possum you toted off ter her house.' 
 
 "Well, suh, I had 'im I He caved in. He 'low, 
 ' 'Twan't no 'possum; 'twan't nothin' in de roun' 
 worl' but a late watermillion.' I holler, ' Ah-yi! 
 watermillion ! Well, den, ef you want ter drag any- 
 body off f um der white folks, go an' drag ol' Cely 
 Ensign — bekaze you can't drag me.' 
 
 " We jowered right smart, but I had Hamp in a 
 comder. He went off an' stayed maybe a mont', an' 
 den he come back, an' atter 'while he got 'lected ter 
 de legislature. He done mighty well, suh. He got 
 nine dollars a day, an' ev'y Sat'dy night he'd fetch 
 
 35 
 
 M 
 
\ 
 
 i 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 de bigges' part uv it home. *Twuz mighty handy, 
 too, suh, kaze ef hadn't been fer dat legislatur' 
 money I dunner what me and Miss Vallie an' Marse 
 Tumlin would 'a' done. 
 
 " Dat wuz 'bout de time, suh, dat de town boys 
 wanter ku-kluck Hamp, an' you an' Marse Tumlin 
 went out an' ku-klucked dem. Hamp ain't never 
 forgot it, suh. He'd walk fum here to Atlanty fer 
 you ef 'twould do you any good. He don't say 
 much, but I know how he feel. I hear 'im calling 
 me now, suh." 
 
 " You haven't told me about Paul Conant," I 
 suggested. 
 
 " I'll tell you, suh, 'fo' you go." 
 
 In half a minute I heard Aunt Minervy Ann 
 quarrelling and laughing at Hamp in the same 
 breath. 
 
 ' 
 
 III 
 
le 
 
 rv 
 
 HOW SHE JOINED THE GEORGIA LEGIS- 
 LATURE 
 
 The second day of the fair, I saw more of Paul 
 Conant. He insisted on taking charge of me, and, 
 in his buggy, we visited every part of the ^cair- 
 giounds, which had been laid out on a most liberal 
 scale. When dinner-time came I was glad enough 
 to excuse myself and hurry back to the refreshing 
 shade of Major Perdue's veranda. There I found 
 Aunt Minervy Ann swinging the baby in a ham- 
 mock. 
 
 " I 'low'd maybe you'd git tired an' come back, 
 suh; an' so I des let dinner sorter simmer whiles 
 I got dish yer baby ter sleep. I dunner how you all 
 does in Atlanty, but down here we has soon dinner. 
 Dem what wanter kin have two meals a day, but 
 dem what does sho 'nufF work better eat three. 
 Me! I want three, whedder I works er not." 
 
 The baby stirred, and Aunt Minervy paused. At 
 that moment a group of men, wearing badges, 
 
 97 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 passed by, evidently officials of the fair going to 
 dinner. They were evidently engaged in a very 
 earnest discussion. 
 
 " I'm for Conant," said one, with considerable 
 emphasis. 
 
 " Oh, so am I," assented another. " When Jim 
 told me this morning that he was a candidate for 
 the Legislature, I told him flat and plain that I was 
 for Paul Conant." 
 
 " That's right," remarked a third. " We want a 
 man there with some business sense, and Conant's 
 the man." 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann laughed. " Ef de Legislatur* 
 up dar in Atlanty is like it wuz when I b'long'd 
 ter it, dey can't drag Marse Paul in dar; no, suhl 
 dey can't drag him in dar." 
 
 Amazement must have shown in my face, for 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann immediately became solemn. 
 
 " Ain't you never hear tell 'bout my j'inin' de 
 
 Legislatur'? You may look an' you may laugh, 
 
 but dat don't wipe out de trufe. Dey wuz a time 
 
 when I jined de Legislatur' an' when I b'long'd ter 
 
 de gang same ez Hamp did. You don't 'spute but 
 
 what Hamp b'long'd - de Legislatur', suh? " 
 
 asked Aunt Minervy A:Ln, anxious to make out the 
 
 title of her own membership. Ko, I didn't dispute 
 
 98 
 
1 1 
 
 II 
 
 HOW SHE JOINED THE LEGISLATUKE 
 
 Hamp's credentials. He had been elected and he 
 had served. 
 
 " I know'd you couldn't 'spute dat, suh," Aunt 
 Minervy Ann went on, " 'kaze you wuz down dar 
 when dey choosen'd 'im, un' you wuz dar when dem 
 ar white folks come mighty nigh ku-kluckin' 'im; 
 you wuz right dar wid Marse Tumlin an' Marse 
 Bolivar. I never is ter fergit dat, suh, ner Hamp 
 nudder; an' ef you don't b'lieve it, you des sen' us 
 word you want us. Ef we git de word at midnight 
 we'll git up, an' ef de railroad track is tore up we'll 
 git a waggin, an' ef we can't git a waggin, we'll 
 walk, but what we'll come." 
 
 " "Well," said I, " tell us about your joining the 
 Legislature." 
 
 " I may be long in tellin' it, suh, but 'tain't no 
 
 long tale," replied Aunt Minervy Ann. " Atter 
 
 Hamp come up here an' tuck his seat — dat what 
 
 dey call it den, ef dey don't call it dat now — well, 
 
 atter he come up an' been here some little t!nie, I 
 
 tuck notice dat he 'gun ter hoi' his head mighty 
 
 high ; a little too high f er ter suit me. He want me 
 
 ter go up dar wid 'im an' stay dar, 'kaze he sorter 
 
 skittish 'bout comin' home when dem country boys 
 
 mought be hangin' 'roun' de depot. But I up 
 
 an' tol' 'im flat an' plain dat I wa'n't gw'me ter 
 
 99 
 
\ 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 leave Miss Vallie an' let er' git usen ter strange 
 niggers. I tol' 'im he mought go an' stay ef he 
 want ter, but de fus' week he miss comin' home, 
 I wuz gwine alter 'im, an' ef I fotch 'im home 
 he won't go back in a hurry; I tol' 'im dat, flat an' 
 plain. 
 
 " Well, suh, he done mighty well; I'll say dat 
 fer 'im. He want too many clean shirts an' collars 
 fer ter suit me, but he say he bleeze ter have um dar 
 whar he at, an' I ain't make no complaint 'bout dat; 
 but I took notice dat he wuz sorter offish wid Marse 
 Tumlin. Mo' dan dat, I tuck notice dat needer 
 Marse Tumlin ner Marse Bolivar so much ez look 
 at 'im when dey pass 'im by. I know'd by dat dat 
 sump'n wuz up. 
 
 " Now, Hamp ain't had no reg'lar time fer com- 
 in' home. Sometimes he'd come We'n'sday, an* 
 den ag'in he'd come Friday. I ax 'im why he ain't 
 stay de week out an' 'ten' ter his work like he 
 oughter. He say he gettin' des much pay when he 
 at home loafin' 'roun' ez he do when he up yer. 
 Well, suh, dat 'stonish me. You know yo'se'f, 
 suh, dat when folks is gittin' pay fer dat what dey 
 ain't doin', dey's boun' ter be swindlin' gwine on 
 some'rs, ef not wuss, an' dat what I tol' 'im. He 
 laugh an' say dat's on account er politics an' de er- 
 
 100 
 
II 
 
 HOW SHE JOINED THE LEGISLATURE 
 
 le 
 
 publican party, an* I make answer dat ef dat de 
 case, dey er bofe rank an' rotten; desso. 
 
 " We went on fum one thing ter an'er, twel 
 bimeby I ax Mm what dey is 'twixt *im an* Marse 
 Tumlin an' Marse Bolivar. Hamp say dey ain't 
 nothin' 'ceppin' dat dey done ax 'im fer ter do 
 sump'n dat ain't in 'cordance wid erpublican pen- 
 cerpuls, an' he bleeze ter effuse um. Well, suh, 
 dis kinder riled me. I know'd right pine-blank dat 
 Hamp ain't know no mo' 'bout erpublican pencer^ 
 puis dan I is, an' I wouldn't a-know'd um ef I'd a 
 met um in de road wid der name painted on um; so 
 I ax 'im what erpublican pencerpuls hender'd 'im 
 fum doin' what Marse Tumlin ax 'im ter do. He 
 sot dar an' hummed an' haw'd, an' squirm'd in his 
 cheer, an' chaw'd on de een' er his segyar. I wait 
 long 'nuff, an' den I ax *im ag'in. Well, suh, dat's 
 been twenty years ago, an' he ain't never tol' me yit 
 what dem erpublican pencerpuls wuz. I ain't 
 flingin' off on um, suh. I 'speck dey wuz a bairl- 
 ful er dem erpublican pencerpuls, an' maybe all 
 good uns, but I know'd mighty well dat dey ain't 
 bender dat nigger man fum doin' what Marse Tum- 
 lin ax 'im ter do. 
 
 " So de nex' chance I git, I up'n ax Marse Tum- 
 lin what de matter wuz 'twix' him an' Hamp. He 
 
 101 
 
THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINEIIVY ANN 
 
 say 'twa'n't nothin' much, 'cep' dat Hamp had done 
 come up here in Atlanta an' sol' hiase'f out to a pas- 
 scl or kyarpit-baggers what ain't no intruss down 
 here but ter git han's on all de money in sight. I 
 say, * He may 'a' gi' hisse'f 'way, Marso Tumlin, 
 but he sho' ain't sell hisse'f, 'kaze I ain't seen one er 
 de money.' Marse Tumlin 'low, * Well, anyhow, 
 it don't make much diffunce, Minervy Ann. Dem 
 kyarpit-baggers up dar, dey pat 'im on de back an' 
 tell 'im he des ez good ez what dey is. I had de 
 idee, Minervy Ann,' he say, ' dat Hamp wuz lots 
 better dan what dey is, but he ain't; he des 'bout 
 good ez dey is.' 
 
 " Marse Tumlin do like he don't wanter talk 
 'bout it, but dat ain't nigh satchify me. I say, 
 * Marse Tumlin, what did you want Hamp ter do? * 
 He drum on de arm er de cheer wid his fingers, an' 
 sorter study. Den he say, * Bein' it's all done an' 
 over wid, I don't min' tellin' you all about it. Does 
 you know who's a-runnin' dis county now?' 
 I had a kinder idee, but I say, * Who, Marse 
 Tumlin?' He 'low, ' Mahlon Botts an' his 
 br'er Mose; dey er runnin' de county, an' dey 
 er ruinin' it.' 
 
 " Den he ax me ef I know de Bottses. Know 
 
 um! I'd been a-knowin' um sence de year one, an' 
 
 10? 
 
 , 
 
II 
 
 BOW SHE JOINED THE LEGISLATURE 
 
 dey wuz de ve'y drugs an' offscourin's er creation. 
 I ax Marse Tumlin how come dey ter have holt er 
 de county, an' he say dey make out dey wuz good 
 erpublicans, des ter make de niggers vote um in 
 office — so dey kin make money an' plunder de 
 county. Den I ax 'im what he want Hamp ter do. 
 He say all he want Hamp ter do wuz ter he'p 'im git 
 er whatyoumaycallum — yasser, dat's it, a bill; dat's 
 de ve'y word he say — he want Hamp ter he'p 'im 
 git a bill th'oo de Legislatur'; an' den he went on 
 an' tell me a long rigamarolious 'bout what 'twuz, 
 but I'll never tell you in de roun' worV." 
 
 [The proceedings of the Georgia Legislature re- 
 ported in the Atlanta New Era^ of November 10, 
 1869, show that the measure in question was a local 
 bill to revive the polling-places in the militia dis- 
 tricts of the county represented by the Hon. Hamp- 
 ton Tumlin, and to regulate elections so that there 
 could be no repeating. This verification of Aunt 
 Minervy Ann's statement was made long ago after 
 she told the story, and purely out of curiosity. The 
 discussions shed an illuminating light over her nar- 
 rative, but it is impossible to reproduce them here, 
 even in brief.] 
 
 " He tol' me dat, suh, an' den he le'nt back in de 
 cheer, an' kinder hummed a chune. An' me^— I 
 
 199 
 
 m 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINER^/Y ANN 
 
 stood up dar by de fireplace an' studied. Eight 
 den an' dar I made up my min' ter one thing, an' I 
 ain't never change it, needer; I made up my min* 
 dat ef we wuz all gwine ter be free an' live in de 
 same neighborhoods — dat ef we wuz gwine ter do 
 dat, whatsomever wuz good fer de white folks 
 blceze ter be good fer de niggers, an' whatsomever 
 wuz good fer Marse Tumlin an' Miss Vallie wuz dea 
 ez good fer me an' Hamp. 
 
 " I 'low, * Marse Tumlin, when you gwine up dar 
 whar Hamp at? ' He say, '■ Oh, I dunno; I'm tired 
 er de infernal place,' desso. Den he look at me 
 right hard. * What make you ax? ' sez he. I 'low, 
 * 'Kaze ef youer gwine right scon, I'm gwine wid 
 you.' He laugh an' say, * What de dickunce you 
 gwine up dar fer? ' I 'low, * I gwine up dar fer ter 
 jine de Legislatur'. I ain't Here tell dat dem what 
 jines hatter be baptize in runnin' water, an' ef dey 
 ain't, den I'll jine long wid Hamp.' Marse Tum- 
 lin say, ' You reckin Hamp would be glad fer to 
 see you, Minervy Ann? ' I 'low, ' He better had 
 be, ef he know what good fer 'im.' Marse Tum- 
 lin say, * Ef I wuz you, Minervy Ann, I wouldn't 
 go up dar spyin' atter Hamp. He'll like you none 
 de better fer it. De las' time I wuz up dar, Hamp 
 
 :wuz bavin' a mighty good time. Ef you know 
 
 104 
 
HO\y SHE JOINED THE LEGISLATURE 
 
 what's good fer you, Minervy Ann, you won't go 
 up dar a-doggin' atter Hamp.' 
 
 " Well, suh, right at dat time I had de idee dat 
 Marse Tumlin wuz prankin' an' projeckin'; you 
 know how he runs on; but he wa'n't no mo' prank- 
 in' dan what I am right now. (Nummine! I'll gi^. 
 back ter Hamp terreckly.) I laugh an' say, * I 
 ain't gwine ter dog atter Hamp, Marse Tumlin; I 
 des wanter go up dar an' see how he gittin' on, an' 
 fin' out how folks does when dey sets up dar in de 
 Legislatur*. An' ef you'll put dat ar whatshis- 
 name — bill; dat's right, suh; bill wuz de word— ef 
 you'll put dat ar bill in yo' pocket, I'll see what 
 Hamp kin do wid it.' Marse Tumlin 'low, * 'Tain't 
 no use fer ter see Hamp, Minervy Ann. He done 
 tol' me he can't do nothin'. I lef ' de bill wid 'im.' 
 
 " I say, ^ Marse Tumlin, you dunner nothin' 'tall 
 'bout Hamp. He must er change mighty sence 
 dey 'fo' yistidy if he erfuse ter do what I tell 'im 
 ter do. Ef dat de case, I'll go up dar an' frail 'im 
 out an' come on back home an' ten' ter my work.' 
 
 " Marse Tumlin look at me wid his eyes half shot 
 
 an' kinder laugh way down in his stomach. He 
 
 'low, ' Minervy Ann, I been livin' a long time, an' 
 
 I been knowin' a heap er folks, but you er de 
 
 bangin'est nigger I ever is see. Free ez you is, I 
 
 105 
 
 If 
 
 1 
 
 •j;,ii 
 
 1?: 
 I''.' 
 
 i 
 
 'i*'.''- 
 
 m 
 
 ti 
 
 ^' 
 
 I 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 II 
 
 , 
 
 H 
 
 wouldn't take two thousan* dollars fer you, cash 
 money. I'll git Bolivar, an' we'll go up dar on de 
 mornin* train. Vallie kin stay wid er aunt. 
 'Tain't gwine ter hurt you ter go; I want you ter 
 see some things fer yo'se'f.' 
 
 " Well, suh, sho' 'nuff, de nex' mornin' 
 me an' Marse Tumlin an' Marse Bolivar, 
 we got on de train, an' put out, an' 'twa'n't 
 long 'fo' we wuz puUin' in under de kyar- 
 shed. Dat 'uz de fus' time I ever is heen ter dis 
 town, an' de racket an' de turmoil kinder tarrify 
 me, but when I see 't'er folks gwine 'long 'tendin' 
 ter der bizness, twa'n't no time 'fo' I tuck heart, 
 'kaze dar wuz Marse Tumlin an' Marse Bolivar 
 right at me, £^' dey wuz bowin' an' shakin' ban's 
 wid mos' eve'ybody dat come 'long. Dey wuz two 
 mighty pop'lous white men, suh; you know dat 
 yo'se'f. 
 
 " I 'speck de train must 'a' got in 'fo' de Legisla- 
 tui* sot down, 'kaze when we went th'oo a narrer 
 street an' turn inter de one what dey call Decatur, 
 whar dey carry on all de devilment, I hear Marse 
 Tumlin say dat we wuz 'bout a hour too soon. 
 Eight atter dat Marse Bolivar say, * Tumlin, dat ar 
 nigger mt a 'cross dar wid de gals is got a mighty 
 familious look ter me; I done been seed 'im some* 
 
 m 
 
HOW SHE JOINED THE LEGISLATURE 
 
 whar, 8ho\' Marse Tumlin say, 'Dat's a fac'; I 
 used ter know dat man some'rs.* "Well, suh, I lookt 
 de way dey wuz a-lookin', an' dar wuz Hampl 
 Yassarl Hamp! Hamp an' two mulatter gals. 
 An' I wish you could 'a' seed um; I des wish you 
 could! Dar wuz Hamp all diked out in his Sun- 
 day cloze which T tol' 'im p'intedly not ter w'ar 
 while he workin' in de Legislatur'. He had a 
 segyar in his mouf mos' ez big an' ez long ez a 
 waggin-spoke, an' dar he wuz a-bowin' an' scrapin', 
 an' scrapin' an' gigglin', an' de mulatter gals wuz 
 gigglin' an' snickerin' an' squealin' — I declaire, 
 Mr. Tumlin I you oughter be ^ shame er yo'se'f; oh, 
 youer too h-a-a-a-d! ' " 
 
 With powers of mimicry unequalled. Aunt Mi- 
 nervy Ann illustrated the bowing and scraping of 
 Hamp, and reproduced the shrill but not unmusical 
 voices of the mulatto girls. 
 
 " I tell you de tiufe, suh, whiles you could count 
 
 ten you might 'a' pusht me over wid a straw, an' 
 
 den, suh, my dander 'gun ter rise. I must 'a' 
 
 show'd it in my looks, 'kaze Marse Tumlin laid his 
 
 han' on my shoulder an' say, * Don't kick up no 
 
 racket, Minervy Ann; you got Hamp right whar 
 
 you want 'im. You know what we come fer.' 
 
 Well, suh, I hatter stan' dar an' swaller right hard 
 
 107 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
( 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 a time er two, 'kaze I ain't got no use fer mulatters; 
 to make iim, you got tcr spile good white blood an' 
 good nigger blood, an' when dey er made dey got 
 in um all dat's mean an' low down on bofe sides, an' 
 ef dey yever is ter be saved, dey'll all hatter be bap- 
 tize twice han' nmnin' — once fer de white dat's in 
 um, and once fer de black. De Bible mayn't sesso, 
 but common-sense'll tell you dat much. 
 
 " Well, suh, I stood dar some little time watchin' 
 Hamp's motions, an' he wuz makin' sech a big fool 
 er hisse'f dat I des come mighty nigh laughin' out 
 loud, but all dat time Marsc Tumlin had de idee dat 
 I wuz mad, an' when I start to'rds Ilamp, wid my 
 pairsol grabbed in de middle, he 'low, ' Min' yo' 
 eye, Minervy Ann.' I walk up, I did, an' punch 
 Hamp in de back wid de pairsol. Ef I'd 'a' hit 'im 
 on de head wid a pile-driver, he couldn't 'a' boen 
 mo' dum'founder'd. He look like he wuz gwin'^ 
 th'oo de sidewalk. I say, ' When you git time, I'd 
 like ter have a little chat wid you.' He 'low, 
 * Why, why ' — an' wid dat he stuck de lit een' er 
 his segyar in his mouf . Well, suh, you may b'lieve 
 you done seed splutterin' an' splatterin', but you 
 ain't never seed none like dat. He made a motion, 
 Hamp did, like he wanter make me 'painted 
 
 wid de mulatter ^als, but I say, ' When you git 
 
 108 
 
 is- 
 
HOW SHE JOINED THE LEGISLATURE 
 
 time fum yo' Legislatur', I got a sesso fer you ter 
 hear.* 
 
 " Wid dat, 8uh, I turn 'roun' an' cross de street 
 an' f oiler on attcr Marse Tumlin an' Marse Bolivar. 
 I ain't mo'n git 'cross, 'fo' here come Hamp. He 
 'low, * Why, honey, whyn't you tell me you wuz 
 eomin'? When'd you come?' I say, * Oh, I'm 
 honey, is I? Well, maybe you'll fin' a bee in de 
 comb.' He 'low, * Whyn't you tell me you wuz 
 eomin' so I kin meet you at de train? ' I say, * I 
 wanter see what kinder f ambly you got in dis town. 
 An' I seed it! I seed it! ' 
 
 " Well, suh, I 'speck I'd 'a' got mad ag'in, but 
 'bout dat time we cotch up wid Marse Tumlin an' 
 Marse Bolivar. Marse Tumlin turn 'roun', he did. 
 En' holler out, * Well, ef here ain't Minervy Ann I 
 What you doin' up here, an' how did you lef ' yo' 
 Miss Vallie? ' He shuck ban's des like he ain't see 
 me befo' in a mont', an' Marse Bolivar done de 
 same. I humor'd um, suh, but I ain't know what 
 dey wuz up ter fer long atterwards. Dey don't 
 want Hamp ter know dat I come 'long wid um. 
 Den dey went on, an' me an' Hamp went ter whar 
 he stay at. 
 
 " When I got 'im ofF by hisse'f, suh, he sot in ter 
 
 tellin' me how come 'im ter be wid dem ar gals, an' 
 
 109 
 
 'i ''I 
 
 m 
 
 W 
 
 'if! 
 
 V 
 
 
THE CHBONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 he want me ter know um^ an' he know mighty well 
 I'd like um — ^you know how men-folks does, suh. 
 But dey wa'n't na'er minit in no day dat yever 
 broke when Hamp kin fool me, an' he know'd it. 
 But I let 'im run on. Bimeby, when he get tired 
 er splanifyin', I 'low, * What dat paper what Marse 
 Tumlin ax you ter put in de Legislatur' ? ' He say, 
 * How yoi know 'bout dat? ' I 'low, * I hear Marse 
 Tumlin tellin' Miss Vallie 'bout it, an' I hear Miss 
 Vallie wonder an' wonder what de matter wid you.' 
 
 " I fetch Miss Vallie in, suh, bekaze Hamp think 
 dey ain't nobody in de worl' like Miss Vallie. One 
 time, des 'fo' de big turmoil, when Marse Tumlin 
 hire Hamp fum de Myrick 'state, he fell sick, an' 
 Miss Vallie (she wa'n't nothin' but a school-gal 
 den) she got sorry f er 'im 'kaze he wuz a hired nig- 
 ger, an' she'd fill a basket wid things fum de white 
 folks' table an' tote um to 'im. Mo' dan dat, she'd 
 set dar whiles he's eatin' an' ax 'bout his folks. 
 Atter dat, suh, de groun' whar Miss Vallie walk 
 wuz better'n any yuther groun' ter Hamp. So 
 when I call her name up, Hamp ain't say nothin' 
 fer long time. 
 
 " Den he shuck his head an' say dey ain't no use 
 talkin', he des can't put dat ar paper in de Legisla- 
 tur'. He say ef he wuz ter, 'twon't do no good, 
 
 110 
 
II 1 
 
 HOW SHE JOINED THE LEGISLATURE 
 
 'kaze all de erpublicans would jump on it, an' deii 
 dey*d jump on him ter boot. I *low, * Whar you 
 reckon I'll be whiles all dat jumpin' gwine on? * 
 He say, * You'll be on de outside, an' ef you wuz on 
 de inside, dey'd hike you out.' * An' who'd do de 
 hikin'? ' sez I. * De surgeon er de armies/ sez he. 
 * White er black? ' sez I. * Yaller,' sez Hamp. I 
 'low, * Good 'nuff; we'll see which un'U be hiked.' 
 An' I told Hamp right den an' dar, dat ef he erf use 
 ter put dat paper in, I'll do it myse'f . 
 
 "Well, suh, whiles we settin' dar talkin', dey 
 come a-rappin' at de do' an* in walk a big bushy- 
 head mulatter, an' I ain't tellin' you no lie, he de 
 mos' venomous-lookin' creetur you ever laid yo' 
 eyes on. His ha'r wuz all spread out like a scourin' 
 mop, an' he had a grin on 'im ez big ez dat gate dar. 
 Hamp call 'im Arion Alperiar Ridley." 
 
 At this point I was compelled to come to the 
 
 rescue of 'Aunt Minervy Ann's memory. The 
 
 stateman's real name was Aaron Alpeora Bradley, 
 
 and he was one of the most corrupt creatures of that 
 
 corrupt era. He had a superficial education that 
 
 only added to the density of his ignorance, but it 
 
 gave him considerable influence with the negro 
 
 members of the Legislature. Aunt Minervy Ann 
 
 accepted the correction with alacrity. 
 
 Ill 
 
I 
 
 ■ ir 
 
 1 
 
 THE CHUONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 " I fergot his name, suh, but I ain't never fergit 
 him. He so mean-lookin' he make de col' chills 
 run over me. He wuz a low-country mulatter, an* 
 you know how dey talk. Eve'y time he look at me, 
 he'd bow, an' de mo' he bowed de mo' I 'spized 'im. 
 He call Hamp 'Mistooah Tummalin,' an' eve'y 
 time he say sump'n', he'd gi' one er dem venomous 
 grins. I declar' ter gracious, suh, I oughtn't ter 
 talk 'bout dat man dis way, but de way he look wuz 
 Bcan'lous. I done fergive 'im for dat long time 'go 
 on 'count er what he done; but when I hear white 
 folks 'busin' 'im in dat day an' time I know'd dey 
 had mighty good groun', bekaze dey ain't no 
 human kin look like dat man an' not be mean at 
 bottom. 
 
 " Well, suh, Hamp, he up'n tol' dis yer Alpory 
 
 er Alpiry (whatsomever his name mought be) what 
 
 I come ter town f er, an' Alpory, he say, * Mistooah 
 
 Tummalin, you kyam't do it. Hit would-er ruin 
 
 you in de-er party, suh — er ruin you.' I kinder 
 
 fired up at dat. I 'low, * How come he can't do it? 
 
 Ain't he free? ' 01' Alpory, he grin an' he talk, 
 
 he talk an' he grin, but he ain't budge me. At de 
 
 offstart I say ef Hamp don't put dat paper in de 
 
 Legislatur', I'll put it in myse'f , an' at de windin' up 
 
 I still say dat ef he don't put Marse Tumlin's paper 
 
 112 
 
II 
 
 How SHE JOINED THE LEGlSLATURfi 
 
 in de Legislatur*, den I'll be de one ter do it. 01' 
 Alpory say, * You-er is got no marster, ma'am.' 
 Den I snapt 'im up an' cut 'im off short; I say, * I 
 got one ef I want one. Ain't I free?' Den he 
 went on wid a whole paspel er stuff dat I can't make 
 head er tail un, ner him needer, f er dat matter, twel 
 bimeby I say, * Oh, hush up an' go on whar you 
 gwine.' 
 
 " Hamp look so broke up at dis dat I wuz kinder 
 sorry I say it, but dat's de only way ter deal wid 
 dem kind er folks, suh. 01' Alpory wuz des f am- 
 ishin', suh, fer some un ter b'lieve he's a big 
 Ike; dat 'uz all de matter wid 'im an' I know'd it. 
 So he quit his jawin' when I snapped 'im up, an' he 
 sot dar some time lookin' like a cow does when her 
 cud don't rise. Bimeby he ax Hamp fer ter let 'im 
 see de paper what I want 'im ter put in de Legisla- 
 tur'. He tuck it, he did, an' look at it sideways an' 
 upside down, an' eve'ywhichaway. Ez ef dat 
 wa'n't 'nuff, he took off his goggles an' wiped um 
 an' put um on ag'in, an' read de paper all over ag'in, 
 noddin' his head an' movin' his mouf, an' grinnin'. 
 
 " Atter he got th'oo, he fol' de paper up an' han' 
 
 it back ter Hamp. He say he can't see no harm in 
 
 it ter save his life, an' he 'low dat ef Hamp'll put it 
 
 in at one een' er de Legislatur', he'll put it in at de 
 
 118 
 
1 
 
 i 
 
 THE CHHONICLIS OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 't'er een*. Dey call one part a house, but nobody 
 ain*t never tell me* why dey call a wranglin' gang er 
 men a houae. Dey des might ez well call um a 
 hoss an' buggy; eve'y bit an' grain. Well, suh, de 
 house wuz de part what Hamp b'longb ter, an' de 
 't'er part wuz whar ol' Alpory b'long'd at, an' by de 
 time dey wuz ready fer ter set in dar dey had e'en 
 'bout 'greed fer put de paper in at bofe een's. 
 
 " I went 'long wid Hamp, suh, an' he show'd me 
 de way ter de gall'ry, an' I sot up dar an' look down 
 on um, an' wonder why all un um, white an 'black, 
 wa'n't at home yeamin' der livin' 'stidder bein' in 
 dat place a-wranglin' an' callin' names, an' howlin' 
 an' wavin' der arms an' ban's. Dey wuz a big fat 
 white Jian settin' up in de pulpit, an' he kep' on 
 a-maulin' it wid a mallet. I dunner what his name 
 wuz, but I hear one big buck nigger call 'im Mr. 
 Cheer. Marse Tumlin tol' me atterwards dat de 
 man wuz de speaker, but all de res' done lots mo' 
 speakin' dan what he did; all un um 'cep' Hamp. 
 
 " Yasser; all un um 'cep' Hamp, an' he sot dar 
 
 so still dat 'twa'n't long 'f o' I 'gun ter git shame un 
 
 him. He sot dar an' fumble wid some papers, an* 
 
 belt his head down, an' look like he skeer'd. I 
 
 watch 'im, suh, twel I got so res'less in de min' I 
 
 can't set still. Bimeby I got up an' went down ter 
 
 114 
 
 
 I 
 
I 
 
 HOW SHE JOINED THE LEQISLATURE 
 
 Idar 
 un 
 
 lan' 
 I 
 
 ''I 
 ter 
 
 
 de front do'; I wuz gwine ter make my way in dar 
 whar Hamp wuz at, an' kinder fetch 'im out'n his 
 dreams, ef so be he wuz dreamin'. An' I'd a gone 
 in, but a nigger man at de do' barred de way. He 
 say, * Who you want ter see? ' I 'low, * I wanter 
 see Hamp Tumlin, dat's who.' He say, * Does you 
 mean de Honnerbul Hampton Tumlin? ' I 'low, 
 
 * Yes, I does ef you wanter put it dat away. Oo in 
 dar an* tell Hm dat de Honnerbul Minervy Ann 
 Perdue is out here waitin* fer 'im, an* he better 
 come quick ef he know what good fer *im,* 
 
 " Wid dat, suh, I hear somebody laugh, an' look 
 up an' dar wuz Marse Tumlin standin' not fur fum 
 de do' talkin' wid an'er white man. He 'low, 
 
 * Scott, dis is Minervy Ann. She got mo' sense an' 
 grit dan half de white folks you meet.' Well, suh, 
 de man come up, he did, an' shuck ban's an' say he 
 mighty glad ter see me. I never is ter fergit his 
 name on 'count er what happen atterwards. 'Bout 
 dat time Hamp come out an' Marse Tumlin an' 46 
 't'er man draw'd oflf up de hall. 
 
 " I say, * Hamp, why in de name er goodness 
 ain't you 'ten' ter yo' bizness? What you waitin' 
 fer? Is you skeer'd? ' He vow an' declair' dat he 
 des waitin' a chance fer ter put de paper in. I tol* 
 'im dat de way ter git a chance wuz ter make one, 
 
 m 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 an' wid dat he went on in, an' I went back in de 
 gall'ry. Well, suh, 'twa'n't long 'fo' Hamp put in 
 de paper. A man at de foot er de pulpit read it oflf, 
 an' den a white man settin' not fur fum Hamp 
 jump up an' say he want sump'n done wid it, I dun- 
 ner what. Hamp say sump'n back at 'im, an' den 
 de white man say he sorry fer ter see de honnerbul 
 gemman gwine back on de erpublican party. Den 
 Mose Bently — I know'd Mose mighty well — he 
 riz an' say ef de erpublican party is got ter be led 
 'roun' by men like de one what dea tuck his seat, 
 it's high time fer honest folks ter turn der backs 
 on it. 
 
 " Well, suh, when Mose say dat, I clap my han*8, 
 1 did, an' holla ' Good I good! now you got it! ' I 
 couldn't he'p it fer ter save my life. De man in de 
 pulpit maul de planks wid de mallet like he tryin* 
 ter split um, an' he 'low dat ef folks in L gall'ry 
 don't keep still, he'll have um cle'r'd out. I holla 
 back at 'im, * You better some er dat gang down 
 dar cle'r'd out I ' Quick ez a flash, suh, dat ar Mr. 
 Scott what been talkin' wid Marse Tumlin jump up 
 an' 'low, * I secon's de motion ! ' De man in de 
 pulpit say, * What motion does de gemman fum 
 Floyd secon'? ' Den Mr. Scott fling his head back 
 
 an' low, *De Honnerbul Minervy Ann Perduo 
 
 116 
 

 Ide 
 
 HOW SHE JOINED THE LEGISLATURE 
 
 done move dat de flo' be cle'r'd 'stidder de gall'ry. 
 I secon's de motion.' 
 
 " Den fum dat he went on an' 'buze de erpubli- 
 can party, speshually dat ar man what had de 'spute 
 wid Ha^Ap. Mr. Scott say dey got so little sense 
 dat dey go ag'in a paper put in by one er der own 
 party. He say he ain't kcer nothin' 'tall 'bout de 
 paper hisse'f, but he des wanter show um up fer 
 what dey wuz. 
 
 " He totch'd um, suh, ez you may say, on de raw, 
 an' when he git th'oo he say, * Now, I hope de cheer 
 will deal wid de motion of de Honnerbul Minervy 
 Ann Perdue.' Mr. Scott say, * She settin' up dar 
 in de gall'ry an' she got des ez much right ter set on 
 dis flo* ez nineteen out er twenty er dem settin' 
 here.' De man in de pulpit look at me right hard, 
 an' den he 'gun ter laugh. I say, * You nee'n ter 
 worry yo'se'f 'bout me. You better 'ten' ter dem 
 ar half-drunk niggers an' po' white trash down dar. 
 I wouldn't set wid 'em ef I never did fin' a place fer 
 ter set at.' 
 
 " Wid dat, suh, I pickt up my pairsol an' make 
 my way out, but ez I went I hear um whoopin' an* 
 hoUerin'." 
 
 "Well, they didn't pass the bill, did they?" I 
 asked. 
 
 117 
 
THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 "What?dat paper er Marse Tumlin'a? Bless yo* 
 soul, suh, dey nm*d over one an*er tryin' ter pass it. 
 Mr. Scott fit it like he fightin' fire, an' make out he 
 wuz terribly ag'in it, but dat des make um wuss. 
 Hamp say dat inginer'Uy dem ar laws has ter wait 
 an' hang fire; but dey tuck up dat un, an' shove it 
 th'oo. Dey tuck mo' time in de 't'er een' er de 
 Legislatur', whar ol' Alpory wuz at, but it went 
 th'oo when it start. I hope dey don't have no sech 
 gwines-on now, suh. Ef dey does de whole county 
 can't drag Paul Conant in dar. I'll jine imi myse'f, 
 'fo' I'll let 'im git in dat kind er crowd," 
 
 W !^, 
 
 m 
 
HOW SHE WENT INTO BUSINESS 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann's picturesque reminiscences 
 were sufficiently amusing to whet my appetite for 
 more. The county fair, which was the occasion of 
 my visit to Halcyondale, was still dragging its slow 
 length along, but it had lost its interest for me. 
 The displays in the various departments were as 
 attractive as ever to those who saw them for the 
 first time, but it seemed to me that all my old ac- 
 quaintances, or their wives and daughters, had 
 something on exhibition, and nothing must do but 
 I must go around and admire it. A little of this 
 goes far, and, as I had been through the various de- 
 partments a dozen times over, I concluded that it 
 would be more comfortable to remain away from 
 the grounds altogether, making more room for those 
 who desired to see the judges deliver the prizes, or 
 who were anxious to witness the trotting matches 
 and running races. 
 
 Therefore, when Major Tumlin Perdue (whose 
 
 119 
 
 ill 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 fi 
 
i ! 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 guest I was) and his daughter, Mrs. Conant, made 
 an early start for the fair grounds, on the fourth 
 day, I excused myself, on the plea of having some 
 letters to write. The excuse was readily accepted, 
 especially by Major Perdue, who expressed a very 
 strong hope that I would do the fair justice in the 
 Atlanta newspapers. 
 
 " If you can put in a word about Paul Conant, 
 I'd be glad if you'd do it," the Major added. " He's 
 come mighty near working himself down to get 
 the blamed thing a-going. If it wasn^t on account 
 of Paul, me and Valentine wouldn't go any closer 
 to the fair grounds than we are right now. But 
 we think maybe we can help Paul, and if we can't 
 do that, we hope to keep him from running his legs 
 off. He ain't well a bit. Vallie says he didn't 
 sleep more than two hours last night for the pains 
 in his shoulder." 
 
 " It seems to be an old trouble," I suggested. 
 
 "Yes, it's an old trouble," replied the Major. 
 Then he looked over the treetops and sighed. 
 
 Here was the same air of mystery that I had ob- 
 served when I first came, and I remembered that 
 Aunt Minervy Ann had begun to tell me about it 
 when she became entangled in her reminiscences. 
 
 Therefore, when they were all gone, and Aunt 
 
 120 
 
HOW SHE WENT INTO BUSINESS 
 
 Minervy Ann had cleaned up the house and coaxed 
 the Conant baby to sleep (which was no hard thing 
 to do, he was such a fat and good-humored little 
 rascal), I ventured to remind the old negress that 
 she had neglected to tell me why the Major and his 
 daughter were so mysteriously solicitous about Paul 
 Conant's shoulder. 
 
 " "Well, de goodness knows!" Aunt Minervy Ann 
 exclaimed, with well-affected surprise; " ain't I 
 done tell you 'bout dat? I sho' wuz dreamin', den, 
 bekaze I had it right on de tip-eend er my tongue. 
 I dunno what got de matter wid me deze days, less'n 
 I'm gettin' ol' an' light-headed. "Well, suhl an' I 
 ain't tol' you 'bout dat!" 
 
 She paused, as if reflecting, but continued to rock 
 the baby's cradle gently, moving it slower and 
 slower, until, finally, she ceased to move it alto- 
 gether. The baby merely gave a self-satisfied sigh, 
 and settled into the profound and healthy sleep of 
 infancy. Then Aunt Minervy Ann went out on 
 the back porch, and seated herself on the top step. 
 I followed, and found the rocking-chair I had occu- 
 pied on a former occasion. 
 
 " I'll set here, suli, twel Hamp gits back wid de 
 
 carriage, an' den I'll see 'bout gittin' dinner, an' he 
 
 better make 'as'e, too, bekaze I ain't got no time ter 
 
 121 
 
 
 
 
THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINEBVY ANN 
 
 set here an' lis'n at dat baby, whiles he projickin' 
 out dar at dem grounds. I kin wait, suh, but I 
 can't wait all day." 
 
 " Major Perdue said that Mr. Oonant's shoulder 
 was very painful last night," I suggested. 
 
 " Dat what Miss Vallie say, suh. She say dey 
 wuz up an' down wid 'im mighty nigh all night 
 long. I don't blame um, suh, but, dey ain't no use 
 talkin', grown folks kin be waited on twey dey er 
 sp'iled same ez chilluns. I'd cut my tongue out, 
 suh, 'fo' I'd say it ter anybody else, but I done got 
 ter b'lievin' dat Marse Paul Conant grunts an' 
 groans many a time des bekaze he wants somebody 
 fer ter worry wid 'im an' honey 'im up. I may be 
 doin' 'im wrong, &uh, but I done get a sneakin' no- 
 tion dat he's one er deze yer kinder menfolks what 
 likes to be much'd an' petted. An' dey'll do it, suh 
 — dey'll much 'im night er day, hot er col*. Dea 
 let 'im say, ' Oh, my shoulder 1 ' an' bofe un um'll 
 try ter outdo de udder in takin' keer un 'im. 
 
 " Marse Tumlin is got mo' ways like a 'oman dan 
 any man I ever is laid eyes on. It's de Lord's truf e. 
 He ain't fussy like de common run er wimmen, but 
 his han' is des ez light an' his heart des ez saft ez 
 any 'oman dat ever breave de breff er life, let er 
 breave whence an' whar she mought. I look at 'im 
 
ojickin 
 I, but I 
 
 shoulder 
 
 say dey 
 lU nigbt 
 I't no use 
 jy dey er 
 Qgue out, 
 ; done got 
 rrunts an 
 somebody 
 I may be 
 Leakin' no- 
 iolks wbat 
 
 do it, suh 
 loV. Bea 
 
 Tin um*ll 
 
 im. 
 I'oman dan 
 
 ru a truf e. 
 len, but 
 
 ez aaf t ez 
 
 life, let er 
 
 look at 'in* 
 
 HOW SHE WENT INTO BUSINESS 
 
 sometimes, an' I des nat'ally tease myse'f ter know 
 
 how dat man kin stan' up an' shoot anybody like I 
 
 dene see 'im do. Hit's de same way wid Marse 
 
 Bolivar Blasengame — you know him, I spec. Dey 
 
 married sisters, suh, an' dey allers been monstua 
 
 thick. Dem two wuz bi^ dogs *roun' here, suh, 'f o' 
 
 de war. Ef you ain't never seed um in dem days, 
 
 you never is ter know how folks looked up to um 
 
 an' give way to um. 
 
 " Bat dey ain't put on no airs, suh. Dey des do 
 
 like de quality all do. 'Taint money dat makes de 
 
 quality; hit's dat ar kinder breedin' what'U make 
 
 de finest folks stop ai shake ban's wid a nigger des 
 
 ez quick ez dey would wid de king er Rooshy — ef 
 
 dey got any king dar. Long 'f o* de turmoil, suh, 
 
 endurin' er de farmin' days, 'twuz des dat-a-way. 
 
 When he 'uz at his richest, Marse Tumlin never did 
 
 pass a nigger on de road, no matter how lonesome 
 
 an' ragged he look, widout stoppin* an' axin* who 
 
 he b'long ter, an* what he name, an' how he gittin* 
 
 on. An' he allers gi' um sump'n, maybe a piece er 
 
 terbacker, er maybe a thrip. I know, suh; I done 
 
 hear my color talk, an' dey talks it down ter dis ve'y 
 
 day. Dey ain't never been a time in dat man's life 
 
 when he ain't think mo' er somebody else dan what 
 
 he think er hisse'f. Dat's what I caU de quality, 
 
 128 
 
 
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 THE CHBONICLES OF AUNT MINEKVY ANN 
 
 8uh. 'Tain't money; 'tain't land; 'tain't fine duds; 
 'tain't nothin' 'tall like dat. I tell you, suh, dem 
 what want ter be de quality is got ter have a long 
 line er tig graveyards behirae una, an' dem grave- 
 yards is got ter be full er folks what use ter know 
 how ter treat yuther folks. Well, suh, Marse Tum- 
 lin is got um behime him, an' dey retch fum here 
 ter Ferginny an' furder. An' on dat account, he 
 ain't 'shame' to show nobody dat he love um, an' he 
 ain't afear'd ter tell nobody dat he hate um. 
 
 " I bet you right now, suh, ef you wuz ter ax 
 Miss Vallie of she ever see 'er pa mad, she'd look 
 at you like she ain't know what you talkin' 
 *bout. Fum de time she has been born, suh, down 
 ter dis ve'y day, she ain't never hear a cross word 
 come from his mouf . She's seed 'im frownin' an' 
 she's seed 'im frettin', but she ain't never hear no 
 cross word. An' dat what make I say what I does. 
 'Taint nobody but de quality dat kin show der 
 breedin' right in der own fambly." 
 
 " "Why, I've heard that the Major has something 
 of a temper," I remarked. 
 
 " Temper! " exclaimed Aunt Minervy Ann, 
 
 holding up both hands; " temper, I hear you say! 
 
 "Well, suh, dat ain't no name fer it. I done seed 
 
 bad men, but Marse Tumlin is de wuss man when 
 
 124 
 
 ^ / 
 
HOW SHE WENT INTO BUSINESS 
 
 he git his dander up dat I yever come 'cross in all 
 my bom days. De fust time I seed 'im mad, suh, 
 wuz right atter de folks come home fum der fightin* 
 and battlin'. It make me open my eyes. I been 
 livin* wid 'im all dem years, an* I never is know 
 how servigrous dat man is. 
 
 " An' de funny part wuz, suh, dat he got mad 
 'bout a ole nigger 'oman." Aunt Minervy Ann 
 paused to indulge in a very hearty laugh. " Yas- 
 ser, all 'bout a ole nigger 'oman. In dem times we 
 all had ter scuffle 'roun' right smart f er ter git vit- 
 tles ter eat, let 'lone cloze ter w'ar. Miss Vallie 
 wuz w'arin' a frock what her mammy had when she 
 wuz a gal. An' de clof wuz right good an' look' 
 mighty well on 'er. Ez f er me, I dunner whedder I 
 had on any frock — ef I did 'twuz 'bout ter drap off'n 
 me. 'Long 'bout dat time, court-week wuz comin' 
 on, de fust court-week we had sence de folks come 
 home fum battlin'. Dey wuz a great miration 
 'bout it, bekaze dey say ev'ybody gwine ter come 
 an' see de lawyers rastle. 
 
 " Well, suh, it come * jross my min* dat ef I kin 
 bake uome ginger-cakes an' make some chicken- 
 pies, maybe I kin pick up a little money. De dime 
 an' thrip species had all done gone, but dey wuz 
 
 oodles er shin-plasters floatin' 'roun' ef you had 
 
 126 
 
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 11 
 
 If 
 
\ 
 
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 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 sump'Ti fer ter git um wid. I dunner whar in de 
 worl' wo got 'nuff flour an' 'lasses fer ter make de 
 cakes. I know I got one chicken, an' Hamp he 
 went off one night and borried two mo'. I ain't ax 
 'im whar he borry um, suh, bekaze 'twan't none er 
 my business. We made de cakes, an' den we made 
 de pies. Ef you ain't know how ter make um, suh, 
 you'd be 'stonished ter know how fur dem ar 
 chickens went. We made twelve pies ef we made 
 one. Yasser! ez sho' ez I'm settin' here. We 
 strung um out — a wing here, a piece er de back 
 dar, an' a neck yonner. Twelve pies, suh, an' nuff 
 chicken lef ' over fer ter gi' Miss Vallie a right smart 
 bait; an' de Lord knows she need it, an' need it bad. 
 
 " Well, suh, I make de ginger-cakes de week 'fo* 
 court, bekaze it he'ps a ginger-cake ef you bake 'im 
 an' den shet 'im up in a tight box whar he kin 
 sweat, an' Monday we sot in ter bake de pies. I 
 make de dough wid my own ban's, an' I lef Hiss 
 Vallie fer ter bake um, wid Hamp tpr keep de fire 
 gwine. De word wuz dat 'bout half-pas' ten Hamp 
 wuz ter fetch me all de pies dey had ready, an' den 
 go back fer de j'lithers. 
 
 " I ain't say nothin' 'bout de balance er de cakes; 
 
 bekaze I 'low'd ter myse'f dat I had 'nuff. I had 
 
 many ez I kin tote widout gittin' tired, an' I ain't 
 
 126 
 
HOW SHE WENT INTO BUSINESS 
 
 ain't 
 
 no baby when it comes ter totin* cakes. "Well, suh, 
 I been livin' a mighty long time, but I ain't never 
 see folks wid such a cravin' fer ginger-cakes. Fum 
 de word go dey wuz greedy fer 'm. Hit mought 
 er been 'kaze dey wuz des natchally hongry, en den 
 ag'in hit mought er been bekaze de cakes 0^11 up ol' 
 times; but no matter 'bout dat, su' aey des 
 showered de shinplasters down on me. 'Twa'n't 
 de country folks doin' de most er de buyin' at fust. 
 It 'uz de town boys an' de clerks in de stores; an' 
 mos' 'fo' I know'd it de cakes wuz all gone, an* 
 Hamp ain't come wid de pies. 
 
 " I would 'a' waited, suh, but dey kep' callin' fer 
 cakes so ravenous dat bimeby I crumpled my shin- 
 plasters up in a wad an' tuck my basket an' went pol- 
 in' home fer ter hurry Hamp up. He wuz des git- 
 tin' ready ter start when I got dar. I gi' Miss Vallie 
 de money — you kin count it up yourse'f, suh; 'twuz 
 fer fo' dozen ginger-cakes at a thrip a-piece — an* 
 tol' her ter sen' Hamp atter some mo' flour an' 
 'lasses 'fo' night, 'kaze de ginger-cakes half-gone an* 
 court-week ain't skacely open up. Hamp, he tuck 
 de pies an' de cakes, an' I got me one er de low 
 cheers out'n de kitchen, 'kaze I done tired er aettin* 
 on de een' uv a box. 
 
 "I 'speck you know right whai I sot at, suh; 
 
 137 
 
 
 
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 THE CHUONTCLES op aunt MiNEnVY ANN 
 
 'twuz dar by dat big chany-treo front er Sanford's 
 sto'. Hit sho' wuz a mighty tree. De win' done 
 blow'd up an' blew'd it do^vn, but de stump stan'in* 
 dar sproutin' right now. Well, suh, right under 
 de shadder er dat tree, on de outer aidge er 
 de sidewalk, I tuck my stan', an' I ain't been dar 
 long 'f o' de folks 'gun ter swarm atter my cakes, an' 
 den when dey seed my pies — well ! hit look like dey 
 fair dribble at de mouf. 
 
 " I sol' um all 'cep' one, an' ef I'd 'a' sol' dat un, 
 I don't 'speck dey'd 'a' been any trouble; but you 
 know what a fool a nigger kin be, suh, speshually a 
 nigger 'oman. I tuck a notion in my min' dat I 
 done so pow'ful well, I'd save dat pie fer Marse 
 Tumlin an' Miss Vallie. So ev'y time somebody's 
 come 'long an' want ter buy de pie, I'd up an' say 
 it done sold. 
 
 " Bimeby, who should come 'long but dat ar 
 Salem Birch ! He dead now, but I 'speck you done 
 hear talk un 'im, bekaze he made matters mighty 
 hot in deze parts twel — twel — well, suh, twel he 
 'gun ter hone atter dat pie, ez you may say." Aunt 
 Minervy Ann paused and rubbed her hands to- 
 gether, as if reflecting. Then she shook her head 
 and laughed somewhat doubtfully. 
 
 " What dey want ter name 'im Salem fer, I'll 
 
 138 
 
I 
 
 
 I gi' Miss Vallie de money." 
 
 ill*,: 
 
 m 
 
now SHE WE'ST INTO nilSINESS 
 
 never tell you. Hit's a Bible name, an' rao' dan 
 dat, hit's a church name. You know it yo'se'f, suh, 
 bekaze dey's a Salem church not mo'n sov'm mile 
 fura whar we scttin' at right now. Salem Birch 1 
 Hit bangs my time how some folks kin go on — an* 
 I ain't nothin' but a nigger. Dey's mo' chillun 
 mint by der names, suh, dan any udder way. I 
 done notice it. Name one un um a Bible name, an' 
 look like he bleedze ter go wrong. Name one un 
 um atter some high an' mighty man, an' dey grows 
 up wid des 'bout much sense ez a gate-post. I done 
 watch um, suh. 
 
 " I 'speck dis yer Salem Birch would 'a' been a 
 right good man but fer dat ar Bible name. Dat 
 mint 'im. I don't b'lieve dey's a man in de worl' 
 what kin walk straight under dat name less'n he 
 done been called fer ter be a preacher^ an' Salem 
 Birch ain't had no sech call up ter dat time. Dat 
 much I know. 
 
 " Well, suh, dar sot de pie, an' dar wuz de ginger- 
 cakes, ol' timers, big ter look at, but light ter han- 
 dle. Eve'ybody want de pie, but my min' done 
 made up. Some bought cakes stidder de pie, an' 
 some des wipe der mouf an' go on. But, bimeby, 
 here come Salem Birch, six feet high, an' his hat 
 
 sot on de side er his haid like he done bought da 
 
 129 
 
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 't - 
 
THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINEBVY ANN 
 
 i 
 
 whole town. I know'd de minnit I Iiid eyes on 'im 
 dat he had dram in 'im, an' dat he wuz up ter some 
 deviknent. Him an' his bre'r, Bill-Tora, suh, had 
 tarryfied de whole county. Dey wuz constant 
 a-fightin') an* ef dey couldn't git nobody else ter 
 fight, dey'd fight 'mongst deyse'f. Yassirl dem ar 
 Birches had done whip der own daddy. 
 
 "An* yit, suby dis yer Salem wa'n't no bad- 
 Icokin' man. He. had long curly ha'r, an' he wuz 
 constant a-laughin\ £f de f ac' troof wuz ter come 
 out, I 'speck he had more devilment in 'im dan 
 downright meanness; an' he wuz mean nuff, do 
 Lord knows. But, be sech as it mought, bimeby 
 here he come, sorter half tip-toein', like some folks 
 do when dey feel der dram an' dunner how ter show 
 it. He stop right front er me, suh, an' time his eye 
 fell on me he sung out: 
 
 " * Whoopee! luf here ainH oV Minervy Ann! 
 Wid pies! ArU cakes! Come on, hoys! Have 
 some pies! An* cakes!* 
 
 " Well, suh, you mought er heer'd 'im a mile. 
 
 He holler des like de She'ff do when he stick his 
 
 haid out'n de court-house winder an' call somebody 
 
 in ter court — des dat ve'y way. He say, * How 
 
 much you take fer yo' chicken-pie? ' I 'low, * Hit 
 
 done sol', suh.' He say, * I'll gi' you a quarter fer 
 
 180 
 
' f- f 
 
 • f 
 
 HOW SHE WENT INTO BUSINESS 
 
 dat pie.' I 'low, * De pie done sol', suh.' By dat 
 time dey wuz a right Eonart clump er folks come up 
 fer see what Salem Birch wuz holl'in' 'bout, an' 
 you know yo'se'f , suh, how a half -drunk man'll do 
 when dey's a crowd lis'nin' at him. 
 
 " He say, * Who done bought dat pie? * I 'low, 
 * Marse Tumlin Perdue.' He sorter draw'd hisse'f 
 up, he did, an' say, * Ain't I des ez good ez Tumlin 
 Perdue? ' I 'low, * I ain't know nothin' ter de con- 
 trary, suh, but ef you is, you got ter be a monstus 
 good man.' He say, ' I is! Pm de bes' man in de 
 county.' I 'low, * Dat may be, suh; I ain't 'sputin' 
 it.* By dat time I 'gun ter feel de OF Boy kinder 
 ranklin' in my gizzard. He say, * Why can't I git 
 dat pie? ' I 'low, ^ Bekaze it done sol', suh.' He 
 say, * Fer cash? ' I 'low, * No, suh; but Marse 
 Tumlin's word is lots better'n some folks' money.' 
 
 " Well, suh, I know'd 'fo' I open my mouf dat I 
 
 ought'n ter say dat, but I couldn't he'p it fer ter 
 
 save my neck. He say, * Well, blast yo' black hide, 
 
 my money's better'n anybody's money 1 * Wid dat 
 
 he flung down a shinphster quarter an' retch fer de 
 
 pie. By de time he grabbed it, I grabbed it, an' he 
 
 pulled an' I pulled. I dunner whedder 'twuz de 
 
 strenk in me er de dram in 'im, but in de pullin', de 
 
 box what de pie wuz on tumt over, an' my cheer 
 
 181 
 
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 1 1 « 
 
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THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 turnt over, an' down come Salem Birch right spang 
 on top er me. 
 
 " I tell you now, suh, dis skeer'd me. 'Twuz 
 mo' dan I bargain f er. Right at de minnit, I had 
 de idee dat de man had jumped on me an' wuz 
 gwine tei" kill me — you know how some folks is 
 'bout niggers. So I des give one squall 
 
 " * Marse Tumlin! Run here, Marse Tumlin! 
 He killin^ me! Oh, Marse Tumlin!' 
 
 " Well, suh, dey tell me dat squall wuz so in- 
 human it made de country bosses break loose fum 
 de racks. One white lady at de tavern hear it, an' 
 she had ter be put ter bed. Bless yo' soul, honey I 
 don't never say you done hear anybody blate twel 
 you hear ol' Minervy Ann — an' de Lord knows I 
 hope you won't never hear me. 
 
 " Dey ain't no use talkin', suh, hit 'larmed de 
 town. Eve'ybody broke an' run to'rds de place 
 whar de fuss come fum. Salem Birch got up des 
 ez quick ez he kin, an' I wuz up des ez quick ez he 
 wuz, an' by dat time my temper done run my skeer 
 off, an' I des blazed out at him. What I say I'll 
 never tell you, bekaze I wuz so mad I ain't never 
 hear myse'f talk. Some say I called 'im dis an' 
 some say I called 'im dat, but whatsomever 'twuz, 
 hit wa'n't no nice name — I kin promise you dat. 
 
 m 
 
1 •,: 
 
 HOW SHE WENT INTO BUSINESS 
 
 ■ " 'Twus 'nuff ter rise his dand er, an' he draw'd 
 back his arm fer ter hit me, but des 'bout dat time 
 Marse Tumlin shoved 'im back. Marse Tumlin 
 'low, * You dirty dogl You sneakin', nasty houn'I 
 is dis de way you does yo' fightin'? ' 
 
 " Well, suh, dis kinder skeer me ag'in, kaze I 
 hear talk dat Salem Birch went 'bout wid dirks an* 
 pistols on 'im, ready fer ter use um. He look at 
 Marse Tumlin, an' his face got whiter an' whiter, 
 an' he draw'd his breff, deep an' long. 
 
 " Marse Tumlin 'low, ' You see dat nigger 
 'oman? Well, of she wuz blacker dan de hinges er 
 hell ' — he say dem ve'y words, suh — * ef she wuz 
 blacker dan de hinges er hell, she'd be whiter dan 
 you er any er yo' thievin' gang.' An' den, suh — I 
 'clar' I'm mos' shame ter tell you — Marse Tumlin 
 rise up on his tip-toes an' spit in de man's face. 
 Yasser! Right spang in his face. You may well 
 look 'stonish'd, suh. But ef you'd 'a' seed de way 
 Marse Tumlin looked you'd know why Salem Birch 
 ain't raise his han' 'cep' ter wipe his face. Ef dey 
 ever wuz blood an' killin' in anybody's eyes, hit wuz 
 in Marse Tumlin's right dat minnit. He stan' dar 
 while you kin count ten, an' den he snap his thumb 
 an' turn on his heel, an' dat ar Salem Birch tuck'n 
 
 walk 'cross de public squar' an' sot down oa de 
 
 183 
 
 
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 V 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN ' 
 
 court-house steps, an' he sot dar, suh, wid his haid 
 *twix* his han's f er I dunner how long. 
 
 ** Well, suh, I know in reason dat de een' er dat 
 business ain't come. You know how our white 
 folks is; you kin spit in one man's face an' he not 
 take it up, but some er his kinnerj er his frien's is 
 sho ter take it up. So I say ter myse'f , ' Look here, 
 niggef 'oman, you better keep yo' mouf shot an' 
 bofe eyes open, kaze dey gwine ter be hot times in 
 deze diggin's.' When I come ter look at um, suh, 
 my ginger-cakes wa'n't hurt, an' de chicken-pie wuz 
 safe an' soun' 'cep' dat er little er de gravy had 
 sorter run out. When I git thoo brushin' an' 
 cleanin' um, I look up, I did, an' dar wuz Marse 
 Bolivar Blasengame walkin' up an' down right 
 close at me. You oughter know 'im, suh, him an' 
 Marse Tumlin married sisters, an' dey wuz ez thick 
 ez two peas in a pod. So I 'low, * Won't you have 
 a ginger-cake, Marse Bolivar? I'd offer you de 
 pie, but I'm savin' dat fer Miss Vallie.' He say 
 he don't b'lieve his appetite run ter cakes an' pies 
 right dat minnit. Dat make me eye 'im, suh, an' 
 he look like he mighty glum 'bout sump'n. He des 
 walk up an' down, up an' down, wid his ban's in his 
 pockets. It come back ter me atterwards, but I 
 ain't pay no 'tention den, dat de folks all 'roun' 
 
 m 
 
HOW SHE WENT INTO BUSINESS 
 
 h, an' 
 
 row 
 
 town wuz kit^er ^spectin' anudder fuss. Dey waz 
 all standin' in clumps here an' dar, some in de mid- 
 dle er de street, an' some on de sidewalks, but dey 
 wa'n't nobody close ter me 'cep' Marse Bolivar. 
 Look like dey wuz givin' us elbow room. 
 
 " De bigges' clump er folks, sub, wuz down at 
 de public well, at de fur side er de squar', an' I no- 
 tice dey kep' movin', now dis way, an' now dat, 
 sorter swayin' like some un wuz shovin' um 'bout 
 an' pushin' um 'roun'. An' dat des de way it wuz, 
 'kaze 'twa'n't long 'fo' somebody broke loose fum 
 um an' come runnin' to'rds whar I wuz settin' at. 
 
 " I know'd in a minnit, sub, dat wuz Bill-Tom 
 Birch. He wuz holdin' his ban' on his wes'cut 
 pocket fer ter keep bis watch fum fallin' out. He 
 come runnin' up, sub, an' he wuz so mad be wuz 
 cryin'. His face wuz workin' des like it hurted 
 
 'im. He holler at me. * Is you de ? ' I 
 
 won't name de name what be call me, sub. But 
 I know ef he'd 'a' been a nigger I'd 'a' got up fum 
 dar an' brained 'im. I ain't say notbin'. I des sot 
 dar an' look at 'im. 
 
 " Well, sub, he jerk a cowhide fum under bis 
 cloze — ^he had it run down bis britches leg, an' say, 
 *I'll show you how you erf use ter sell pies 
 \yhen a ^emman want ter buy um.' I dui^ne? 
 
 m 
 
 'I pi 
 
 f V.I 
 
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( 
 
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 V 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 whRt I'd 'a* done, suh, ef he'd 'a' hit me, but 
 he ain't hit me. Marse Bolivar walk right 'twix* 
 us an' 'low, * You'll settle dis wid me, right 
 here an' now.' Wid dat, Bill-Tom Birch step 
 back an' say, * Colonel, does you take it up? ' 
 Marse Bolivar 'low, *Dat's what I'm here fer.' 
 Bill-Tom Birch step back a little furder and make 
 as ef ter draw his pistol, but his ban' ain't got ter his 
 pocket 'fo' hang! went Marse Bolivar's gun, an' 
 down went Bill-Tom Birch, des like somebody 
 tripped 'im up. 
 
 " I know mighty well, suh, dat I ain't no hard- 
 hearted nigger — anybody what know me will tell 
 you dat — but when dat man drapt, I ain't keer no 
 mo' dan ef he'd 'a' been a mad dog. Dat's de Lord's 
 trufe, ef I ever tol' it. I ain't know wharbouts 
 de ball hit 'im, an' I wa'n't keerin'. Marse Boli- 
 var ain't move out'n he tracks. He stood dar, he 
 did, an' bresh de cap off'n de bairl what shot, an' fix 
 it fer ter shoot ag'in. 'Twuz one er deze yer er- 
 volvers, suh, what move up a notch er two when 
 you pull de trigger. 
 
 " "Well, suh, time de pistol went off, folks come 
 runnin' fum eve'ywhars. Salem Birch, he come 
 runnin' 'cross de public squar', bekaze he had de 
 idee dat sump'n done happen. Marse Bolivar, he 
 
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 You'll settle dis wid me. 
 
 {*£ SI 
 
1 
 
HOW SHE WENT INTO BUSINESS 
 
 see Salem Birch a-comin', an' he walk out fum de 
 crowd ter meet 'im. Dat make me feel sorter 
 quare, kaze hit look like he wuz gwine ter shoot de 
 man down. But Salem Birch seed Mm, an* he stop 
 an' say, ' Colonel, what de name er God is de mat- 
 ter? ' Marse Bolivar make answer, * Salem, I had 
 ter shoot yo' bre'r.' Salem Birch say, * Is he 
 dead? * Marse Bolivar 'spon', * He ain't nigh dead. 
 I put de ball 'twix' de hip an' de knee-j'int. He'll 
 be up in a week.' Salem Birch say, * Colonel, I 
 thank you fer dat. Will you shake ban's? ' Maree 
 Bolivar say dey ain't nothin' suit 'im better, bekaze 
 he ain't got a thing ag'in' de Birches. 
 
 "An' 'twuz des like Marse Bolivar say. Bill- 
 Tom Birch wuz wuss skeer'd dan hurt, an' 'twa'n't 
 long 'fo' he wuz well. Salem Birch, he went off 
 ter Texas, an' dem what been dar an' come back, say 
 dat he's one er deze yer ervival preachers, gwine 
 'bout doin' good an' takin' up big collections. Dat 
 what dey say, an' I hope it's des dat way. I don't 
 begrudge nobody de money dey makes preachin' 
 ter sinners, bekaze hit's des natchally w'arin' ter 
 de flesh." , f 
 
 At this juncture Aunt Minervy Ann called to 
 
 Hamp and informted him, in autocratic tones, that 
 
 it was time to cut wood with which to cook dinner, 
 
 1311 
 
 41' 
 
 5 f » -.1 
 11 
 
 yv, 
 
Til?-: CimONICLES OP AUNT MINRRVY ANN 
 
 " I don't keer ef you is been ter dc legislaturV' slio 
 added, " you better cut dat wood, an' cut it quick." 
 
 I suggested that nho had started to tell mo about 
 Paul Conunt's shoulder, but had neglected to do so. 
 
 " Ain't I tell you 'bout dat? Well, of dat don't 
 bang my timol Ilamp, you hear dat? You bet- 
 ter go an' make 'rangemonts for tor have me put in 
 do as'luni, bekazo I sho' I's gittin' light-headed. 
 Well, suh, dat beats ulll But I'll toll you 'bout it 
 'fo' you go back." 
 
 Then Aunt Miiiorvy Ann went to soo about din* 
 inr. 
 
 P ' 
 
 m 
 
» T 
 
 VI 
 
 HOW SHE AND MAJOR PERDUE FRAILED OUT 
 THE GOSSETT BOYS 
 
 During the progress of the fair, there was some 
 discussion of fiiiincial matters in Major Perdue'a 
 family. As I remember, someone had given Paul 
 Conant a check which was thrown out by the At- 
 lanta bank on which it was drawn. The sum was 
 not a considerable one, but it was sufficiently large 
 to attract Aunt Minervy Ann's attention, 
 
 *' I 'speck dey got mo' banks in Atlanty dan 
 
 what we-all got down here," she remarked, the next 
 
 time I had an opportunity to talk with her. She 
 
 laughed so heartily as she made the remark that I 
 
 regarded her with some astonishment. " You may 
 
 look, suh, but I ain't crazy. When I hear anybody 
 
 say * bank ' it allers puts me in min' er de time when 
 
 me an' Marse Tumlin frailed out de Gossett boys." 
 
 " Frailed out the Gossett boys? " I exclaimed. 
 
 189 
 
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THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 " Yasser, frailed is do word." 
 
 " Bu what has that to do with a bank? " I in- 
 quired. 
 
 " Hit got all ter do wid it, suh," she replied. 
 We were in the sitting-room, and Aunt Minervy 
 Ann sank down on a footstool and rested one arm 
 on the lounge. " Right atter freedom dey wa'n't 
 nothin' like no bank down whar we live at; you 
 know dat yo'se'f, suh. Folks say dat banks kin run 
 widout money, but 'fo' you start um, dey got ter 
 have money, er sump'n dat look like money. An' 
 atter freedom dey wa'n't no money 'roun* here 'cep' 
 dat kin' what nobody ain't hankerin' atter. 
 
 " But bimeby it 'gun ter dribble in fum some'rs; 
 fus' dem ar little shinplasters, an' den de bigger 
 money come 'long. It kep' on dribblin' in an' drib- 
 blin' in twel atter while you could git a dollar here 
 an' dar by workin' yo' ban's off, er spraining' yo' 
 gizzard to git it. Bimeby de news got norated 
 'roun' dat ol' Joshaway Gossett 'gwine ter start a 
 bank. Yasser! ol' Joshaway Gossett. Dat make 
 folks open der eyes an' shake der head. I 'mem- 
 ber de time, 8uh, when ol' Joshaway wuz runnin' a 
 blacksmith shop out in de country. Den he sot in 
 ter make waggins. Atter dat, he come ter be over- 
 seer fer Marse Bolivar Blasengame, but all de time 
 
 140 
 
HOW SHE FRAILED OUT THE G08SETT BOYS 
 
 he wuz overseein' he wuz ninnin' de blacksmith 
 shop an' de waggin fact'ry. 
 
 " When de war come on, suh, dey say dat ol' 
 Joshaway tuck all de money what he been savin* 
 an' change it inter gol'; de natchul stuff. An' 
 he had a pile un it. He kcp' dat up all endurin' 
 er de turmoil, and by de time freedom come out 
 he had mo' er de natchul stuff dan what Cyarter 
 had oats. Dat what folks say, suh, an* when eve'y- 
 body talk one way you may know dey ain't fur f um 
 de trufe. Anyhow, de word went 'roi\n' dat ol' 
 Joshaway gwine ter start a bank. Folks wa'n't 
 'stonished 'kaze he had money, but bekaze he gwine 
 ter start a bank, an' he not much mo' dan knowin' 
 B fum buUfoot. Some snicker, some laugh, an' 
 some make fun er ol' Joshaway, but Marse Tumlin 
 say dat ef he know how ter shave a note, he bleeze 
 ter know how ter run a bank. I ain't never see no- 
 body shave a note, suh, but dat 'zackly what Marse 
 Tumlin say. 
 
 " But ol' Joshaway, he ain't a-keerin' what folks 
 
 say. He start de bank, an' he kep' it up twel de 
 
 time Fm gwine tell you 'bout. He bought 'im a 
 
 big strong safe, an' he had it walled up in de back 
 
 er de bank, an' dar 'twuz. Don't make no diffunce 
 
 what folks say 'bout ol' Joshaway, dey can't say he 
 
 141 
 
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 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINEHVY ANN 
 
 ain't honest. He gwine ter have what's his'n, an' 
 he want yuther folks fer ter have what's der'n. 
 "When dat de case, 'tain't no trouble ter git folks ter 
 trus' you. Dey put der money in ol' Joshaway's 
 bank, whar he kin take keer un it, bekaze dey 
 know'd he wa'n't gwine ter run off wid it. 
 
 " Well, suh, de bark wuz runnin' 'long des like 
 'twuz on skids, an' de skids greased. 01' Josha- 
 way ain't move ter town, but he hired 'im a clerk, 
 an' de clerk stayed in de bank night an' day, an' 
 I hear folks say de town wuz better'n bigger 
 on 'count er ol' Joshaway's bank. I dunner how 
 dey make dat out, 'kaze de bank wa'n't much big- 
 ger dan de kitchen back dar. Anyhow, dar she 
 wuz, and dar she stayed fer a time an' a time. 
 
 " But one day Marse Tumlin Perdue tuck de no- 
 tion dat he got ter borry some money. He seed 
 yuther folks gwine in dar an' borryin' fum ol' Josh- 
 away, an' he know he got des ez much bizness fer 
 ter borry ez what dey is. Mo' dan dat, when he 
 had plenty er money an' niggers, he done ol' Josh- 
 away many a good turn. I know'd dat myse'f , suh, 
 an' 'tain't no hearsay; I done seed it wid my own 
 eyes. On de day I'm talkin' 'bout. Miss Vallie 
 sont me up town fer ter ax Marse Tumlin kin he 
 spar' two dollars — dat wuz befo' Miss Vallie wuz 
 
 148 
 
1 I 
 
 HOW SHE FRAILED OUT THE GOSSETT BOYS 
 
 married; 'bout a mont' befo', an' she wuz makin' 
 up her weddin' fixin's. 
 
 " 'Twa'n't no trouble ter fin' Marse Tumlin. He 
 wuz settin' in de shade wid a passel er men. He 
 seed me, he did, an' he come ter meet me. When 
 I tell 'im what Miss Vallie want, he kinder scratch 
 his head an' look solium. He studied a minit, an' 
 den he tell me ter come go 'long wid 'im. He cut 
 *cross de squar' an' went right ter ol' Joshaway's 
 bank, me a-f oUerin' right at his heels. He went in, 
 he did, an' 'low, ' Hello, Joshawayl ' 01' Josha- 
 way, he say, * Howdy, Maje? ' He wuz settin' in 
 dar behime a counter what had wire palin's on top 
 un it, an' he look fer all de worl' like some ongodly 
 creetur what dey put in a cage for ter keep 'im f um 
 doin' devilment. 
 
 " Marse Tumlin 'low, * Joshaway, I want ter 
 
 borry a hunderd dollars for a mont' er so.' 01' 
 
 Joshaway kinder change his cud er terbacker fum 
 
 one side ter de yuther, an' cle'r up his th'oat. He 
 
 say, ' Maje; right dis minit, I ain't got fifty dollars 
 
 in de bank.' Nigger ez I is, I know'd dat wuz a 
 
 lie, an' I couldn't help fum gruntin' ef I wuz gwine 
 
 to be kilt fer it. At dat ol' Joshaway look up. 
 
 Marse Tumlin stood dar drummin' on de counter. 
 
 Bimeby ol' Joshaway say, ' Spoze'n I had it, Maje, 
 
 143 
 
 
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 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 who you gwine git fer yo' skyority? ' des so. Marse 
 Tumlin 'low, ' Fer my what? " ' Fer yo' skyor- 
 ity,' sez ol' Joshaway. I up an' say, * Des lissen at 
 dat! ' Marse Tumlin 'low, ' Who went yo' skyor- 
 ity when I use ter loan you money? ' * Times is 
 done change, Maje,' sez ol' Joshaway. Marse 
 Tumlin flirted de little gate open, an' went 'roun'in 
 dar so quick it made my head swim. He say, * / 
 ain't change! ' an' wid dat, he took ol' Joshaway 
 by de coat-collar an' cuff'd 'im 'roun' considerbul. 
 He ain't hurt ol' Joshaway much, but he call 'im 
 some names dat white folks don't fling at one an'er 
 widout dey's gwine ter be blood-lettin' in de neigh- 
 borhoods. 
 
 " Den Marse Tumlin come out fum behime de 
 counter, an' stood in de do' an' look up town. By 
 dat time I wuz done out on de sidewalk, 'kaze I 
 don't want no pistol-hole in my hide. When it 
 come ter fa'r fis' an' skull, er a knock-down an* 
 drag-out scuffle, I'm wid you; I'm right dar; but 
 deze yer guns an' pistols what flash an' bang an' 
 put out yo' lights — an' maybe yo' liver — when it 
 come ter dem, I lots druther be on t'er side de 
 fence. Well, suh, I fully 'spected ol' Joshaway to 
 walk out atter Maroe Tumlin wid de double-bairl 
 
 gun what I seed behime de counter j an' Marse 
 
 144 
 
HOW SHE FRAILED OUT THE GOSSETT BOYS 
 
 Tumlin 'spected it, too, 'kaze he walk up an' down 
 bef o' de bank, an' eve'y once in a while he'd jerk his 
 wescut down in front like he tryin' ter t'ar de 
 bindin' off. Bimeby I see Marse Bolivar Blasen- 
 game git up fum whar he settin' at, an' here he 
 come, swingin' his gol'-head cane, an' sa'nt'in' 'long 
 like he gwine on a promenade. 
 
 " I know'd by dat, suh, dat Marse Bolivar been 
 watchin' Marse Tumlin's motions, an' he seed dat 
 trouble er some kind wuz on han'. He walk up, 
 he did, an' atter he cut his eye at Marse Tumlin, he 
 turn ter me an' laugh ter hisse'f — he had de purti- 
 est front teef you mos' ever is see, suh — an' he 'low, 
 * Well, dang my buttons, ef here ain't ol' Minervy 
 Ann, de warhoss fum Wauhool "Wharsomever 
 dey's trouble, dar's de ol' warhoss fum Wauhoo.' 
 Wid dat, he lock arms wid Marse Tumlin, an' dey 
 march off down de street, me a-foUerin'. You ain't 
 kin fin' two men like dem anywhar an' eve'ywhar. 
 Dey wa'n't no blood-kin — dey married sisters — but 
 dey wuz lots closer dan br'ers. Hit one an' you'd 
 hurt de yuther, an' den ef you wa'n't ready ter git 
 in a scuffle wid two wil'-cats, you better leave town 
 twel dey cool off. 
 
 " Well, suh, dey ain't took many steps 'fo' dey 
 
 wuz laughin' an' jokin' des like two boys. Ez we 
 
 146 
 
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 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 went up de street Marse Tumlin drapt in a sto' er 
 two an' tol' um dat ol' Joshaway Gossett vow'd dat 
 he ain't got fifty cash dollars in de bank. Dish 
 yer money news is de kin' what spreads, an' don't 
 you fergit it. It spread dat day des like powder 
 ketchin' fire an' 'twa'n't no time 'fo' you could see 
 folks runnin' 'cross de squar' des like dey er rabbit- 
 huntin', an' by dinner-time dey wa'n't no bank dar 
 no mo' dan a rabbit. Folks say dat ol' Joshaway 
 try mighty hard ter 'splain matters, but dem what 
 had der money in dar say dey'd take de spondulix 
 fus' an' listen ter de 'splainin' atterwards. 'Long 
 to'rds de ivoon-hour ol' Joshaway hatter fling up his 
 ban's. All de ready money done gone, an' folks at 
 de do' hollin' fer dat what dey put in dar. I dun- 
 ner how he ever got 'way fum dar, 'kaze dey wuz 
 men in dat crowd ripe ter kill 'im; but he sneaked 
 out an' went home, an' lef ' some un else fer ter win' 
 up de shebang. 
 
 " De bank wuz des ez good ez >■ any bank, 
 an' folks got back all dey put in dar des ez 
 soon ez dey'd let ol' Joshaway show his head 
 in town; but he drapt dat kinder bizness an' 
 went back ter farmin' an' note-shavin'. An' 
 all bekaze he want skyority fer Marse Tum- 
 lin, which his word des ez good ez his bon'. 
 
 146 
 
HOW SHE FRAIIED OUT THE GOSSETT BOYS 
 
 ez 
 
 lad 
 
 in' 
 
 In' 
 
 He mought not er had de money when de clock 
 struck de minit, but what difFunce do dat make 
 when you know a man's des ez good ez gol' ? Huh 1 
 no wonder d">y broke ol' Joshaway down I " 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann's indignation was a fine 
 thing to behold. Her scorn of the man who wanted 
 Major Perdue to put up security for his note was 
 as keen and as bitter as it had been the day the epi- 
 sode occurred. She paused at this point as if her 
 narrative had come to an end. Therefore, I put in 
 a suggestion. 
 
 " Was this what you call frailing out the Gossett 
 boys? " 
 
 "ITo, suh," she protested, with a laugh; "all 
 deze yer gwines-on 'bout dat ar bank wuz des de 
 'casion un it. You bleeze ter know dem Gossett 
 boys, suh. Dey had sorter cool down by de time 
 you come here, but dey wuz still ripe fer any 
 devilment dat come 'long. Dar wuz Rube an' Sam 
 an' John Henry, an' a'er one un um wuz big ez a 
 hoss. Dey use ter come ter town eve'y Chuseday 
 an' Sat'day, an' by dinner-time dey'd be a-whoopin* 
 an' hoUin' in de streets, an' a-struttin' 'roun' mash- 
 in' folks' hats down on der eyes. Not all de folks, 
 but some un um. An' all fer fun; dat what dey 
 say. 
 
 Ji47 
 
 \i?;h. 
 
V' 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN" 
 
 " Tooby sho*, dey hrd a spite ag'in Marse Tum- 
 lin and Marse Bolivar atter de bank busted. Dey 
 shorv'd it by gwine des so fur; dey'd fling out der 
 hints J but dey kep' on de safe side, 'kaze Marse 
 Tumlin wa'n't de man fer ter g^ 'roun' huntin' a 
 fuss, ner needer wuz Marse Bolivar; but fetch a 
 fuss an' lay it in der laps, ez you may say, an' dey'd 
 play wid it an' dandle it, an' keep it fum ketchin' 
 col.' Dey sho' would, suh. When dem Gossett 
 boys'd come ter town, Marse Tumlin an' Marse 
 Bolivar would des set' 'roun' watchin' um, des wait- 
 in' twel dey cross de dead-line. But it seem like 
 dey know des how fur ter go, an' right whar ter 
 stop. 
 
 " Well, suh, it went on dis away fer I dunner 
 how long, but bimeby, one day, our ol' cow got out, 
 an' 'stidder hangin' 'roun' an' eatin' de grass in de 
 streets like any yuther cow would ^a' done, she 
 made a straight shoot fer de plantation whar she 
 come fum. 
 
 Miss Vallie tol' Marse Tumlin 'bout it, an' he 
 say he gwine atter her. Den some er de niggers 
 in de nex' lot tol' me dat de cow wuz out an' gone, 
 an' I put out atter her, too, not knowin' dat 
 Marse Tumlin wuz gwine. He went de front 
 street an' I went de back way. Ef de town wu? 
 
HOW SHE TRAILED OUT THE GOSSETT BOYS 
 
 big ez de streets is long, we'd have a mighty city 
 down here; you know dat yo'se'f, suh. De place 
 whar de b,.,jk street jines in wid de big road is 
 mighty nigh a mile fum de tempunce hall, an* 
 when I got dar, dar wuz Marse Tumlin polin* 'long. 
 I holler an' ax 'im whar he gwine. He say he 
 gwine atter a glass er milk. Den he ax me whar 
 I gwine. I say I'm gwine atter dat ol' frame dat 
 nigh-sighted folks call a cow. He 'low dat he'd be 
 mighty thankful ef de nex' time I tuck a notion f er 
 ter turn de cow out I'd tell 'im befo'han' so he kin 
 run 'roun' an' head 'er off an' drive 'er back. He 
 wuz constant a-runnin' on dat away. He'd crack 
 his joke, suh, ef he dyin'. 
 
 " We went trudgin' 'long twel we come *pon de 
 big hill dat leads down ter de town branch. You 
 know de place, suh. De hill mighty steep, an' on 
 bofe sides er de road der's a hedge er Cherrykee 
 roses; some folks calls um Chickasaw; but Chicky 
 er Cherry, dar dey wuz, growin' so thick a rabbit 
 can't hardly squeeze thoo um. On one side dey 
 wuz growin' right on de aidge uv a big gully, an' 
 at one place de groun' wuz kinder caved in, an' de 
 briar vines avuz swayin' over it. 
 
 " Well, suh, des ez we got on de hill-top, I hear a 
 buggy rattlin' an' den I hear laughin' an' cussui', 
 
 149 
 
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TIIK CllUONICLKS OF AUNT MINKIIVY ANN 
 
 I lookt 'roun', I did, an' dar wuz do Qossett boys, 
 two in do buggy un' ono ridin' hossback; an* all un 
 um full er dram. I could tell dat by do way doy 
 wuz gwinc on. You could hear um a milo, cussin' 
 ono an*cr f» cvo'; • ing doy kin think un an' don 
 laughin' 'bo..: U. ■^unip'n tol' mo doy wuz gwino 
 tor bo a rumpi; - •< i;a.-o three tor ono wuz too good 
 a chance for do Gossott 00,73 tor lot go by. I dun- 
 ner what make mo do it, but when wo got down do 
 hill a little piece, I stoop down, I did, an' got mo a 
 good size rock. 
 
 " Terreckly here doy come. Doy kinder quiet 
 down when dey sco mo an' Marso Tumlin. Dey 
 driv up, dey did, an' driv on by, an' dis make mo 
 b'lieve dat dey wuz gwino on 'bout dor bizness an' 
 let we-all go on 'bout our'n, but dat idee wa'n't in 
 der head. Dey driv by, dey did, an' den doy pulled 
 up. We walkt on, an' Marso Tumlin lookt at um 
 mighty hard. Kube, ho was drivin', an' oz wo com© 
 up even wid um, ho 'low, * Major Perdue, I hear tell 
 dat you slap my pa's face not so mighty long ago.' 
 Marso Tumlin say, * I did, an' my ban' ain't clean 
 yit.' He belt it out so dey kin see fer deyse'f. ' I 
 b'lieve,' scz Rube, ' I'll take a closer look at it.' 
 Wid dat he lipt out er do buggy, an' by do time ho 
 
 hit do groun', Marso Tumlin had knockt 'im a-wiij^" 
 
 100 
 
now SHE FIIAILEI) OUT THE OOSSETT BOYS 
 
 ago. 
 clean 
 . 'I 
 
 It it.' 
 liic lio 
 iwincl- 
 
 in' wid his ciirly-hick'ry walkin'-cane. By 
 
 dat time, John Ilcnry had jumpt out'n do buggy, 
 
 an' ho went at Marso Tumlin wid a dirk-knife. lie 
 
 kep' de cane off'n liis head by dodgin', but Marse 
 
 Tumlin hit a back lick an' knock de knife out'n hia 
 
 hnn' an' den doy clincht. Den Ilube got up, an' 
 
 start to'rds uni on de run. 
 
 " Well, suh, I wuz skeer'd an' mad bofe. I seed 
 
 sump'n had ter be done, an' dat mighty quick; so I 
 
 tuck atter Rube, cotch 'm by de ellybows, shoved 
 
 'im ahead faster dan ho wuz gwine, an' steer'(^ 
 
 'im right to'rds dc caved-in place in de brier-bushes. 
 
 He tried mighty hard ter stop, but he wuz gwine 
 
 down hill, an' I had de 01' Boy in me. I got 'im 
 
 close ter de place, suh, an' den I gi' 'm a shove, an* 
 
 inter de briers he went, head over heels. All dis 
 
 time I had de rock in my han'. By de time I turn 
 
 'roun' I see Sam a-comin'. When de rumpus start 
 
 up, his boss shied an' made a break down de hill wid 
 
 'im, but he slew'd 'im 'roun', an' jumped off, an' 
 
 here he come back, his face red, his hat off, an' ol' 
 
 Nick hisse'f lookin' out'n his eyes. I know'd 
 
 mighty well I can't steer him inter no brier-bush, 
 
 an' so when he run by me I let 'im have de rock in 
 
 de burr er de year. 'Twa'n't no light lick, suh; I 
 
 wuz plum venomous by den; an' he went down d^g 
 
 161 
 
V 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 like a beef docs when you knock 'im in do head wid 
 
 >> 
 
 a ax. 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann, all unconscious of her atti- 
 tudes and gestures, had risen from the floor, and 
 now stood in the middle of the room, tall, towering, 
 and defiant. 
 
 " Den I run ter whar Marso Turalin an' John 
 Ilcnry Gossett had been scufflin' ; but by de time I 
 got dar John Henry squalled out dat he had 'nuff; 
 an' he wa'n't tellin' no lie, suh, fer Marsc Tumlin 
 had ketched his cane up short, an' he used it on dat 
 man's face des like you see folks do wid ice-picks. 
 He like to 'a' mint 'im. But when ho holla dat he 
 got 'nuff, Marse Tumlin let 'im up. He let 'im up, 
 he did, an' sorter step back. By dat time Rube 
 wuz a-climbin' out'n de briers, an' Sam wuz makin' 
 motions like he comin'-to. Marse Tumlin say, 
 * Lemme tell you cowardly rascals one thing. De 
 nex' time a'er one un you bat his eye at me, I'm 
 gwine ter put a hole right spang thjoo you. Ef you 
 don't b'lieve it, you kin start ter battin' um right 
 now.' Wid dat, he draw'd out his ervolver an* 
 kinder played wid it. Rube say, * We'll drap it. 
 Major; we des had a little too much licker. But 
 I'll not drap it wid dat nigger dar. I'll pay her fer 
 dis day's work, an' I'll pay 'er well,* 
 
 1613 
 
now SHE FIIAILED OUT THE GOSSETT BOYS 
 
 " Well, 8uh, do way he say it set me on firo. I 
 stcpt out in do middle or do road, an' 'low, * Blast 
 yo* rotten heart, ef youHl des walk out here Vll 
 whip you in a faW fight. Fight me wid yo* naked 
 han's ati' Vll eat you up, ef I hatter pizen myself 
 ter do it.^ " 
 
 Once more Aunt Minervy Ann brought the 
 whole scene mysteriously before me. Her eyes 
 gleamed ferociously, lier body swayed, and her out- 
 stretched arm trembled with the emotion she had 
 resummoned from the past. We were on the spot. 
 The red hill-side, the hedges of Cherokee roses, 
 Major Perdue grim and erect, Sam Gossett strug- 
 gling to his feet, John Henry wiping his beaten 
 face, Kube astounded at the unwonted violence of 
 a negro woman, the buggy swerved to one side by 
 the horse searching for grass — all these things came 
 into view and slowly faded away. Aunt Minervy 
 Ann, suddenly recollecting herself, laughed sheep- 
 ishly. 
 
 " I ain't tellin' you no lie, suh, dat ar Rube Gos- 
 sett stood dar like de little boy dat de calf run over. 
 He mought er had sump'n ugly ter say, but Marse 
 Tumlin put in. He 'low, * Don't you fool yo'se'f 
 'bout dis nigger 'oman. "When you hit her you hits 
 
 me. Befo' you put yo* han' on 'er you come an' 
 
 168 
 
 
 
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THE CTTRONICT.es OP AITNT MTNEUVY ANN 
 
 spit in my face. You'll fin* dat lots de choapes* 
 way cr gittin' de dose what I got for dom what 
 hurts Minervy Ann.' 
 
 " Well, suh, dis make mo feel so funny dat a lit- 
 tle mo' an' I'd a got ter whimpcrin', but I happen 
 tor look 'roun', an' dar wrz our ol' cow lookin' at 
 mo over a low place in do briers. She done got in 
 de ficl' by a gap back up do road, an' dar sho wuz 
 a-lookin' at us like she sorry. Wid me, suh, de 
 diffunco 'twixt laughin' an' cryin' ain't thicker dan 
 a fly's wing, an' when I see dat ol' cow lookin' like 
 she ready ter cry, I wuz bleoze to laugh. Marse 
 Tumlin look at me right hard, but I say, * Marse 
 Tumlin, ol' June lis'nin' at us,' an' den he laughed. 
 
 "Dem Gossett boys brush deyse'f off good ez 
 
 dey kin an' den dcy put out fer home. Soon ez 
 
 dey git out er sight, Marse Tumlin started in ter 
 
 projickin'. He walk all 'roun' me a time er two, 
 
 an' den he blow out his breff like folks does when 
 
 dey cr kinder tired. He look at me, an' say, * Wellf 
 
 I he dam ! ' * Dat would 'a' been de word,' sez I, 
 
 * ef ol' Minervy Ann hadn't 'a' been here dis day 
 
 an' hour.' He shuck his head slow. * You hit de 
 
 mark dat time,' sez he; ' ef you hadn't 'a' been here, 
 
 Minervy Ann, dem boys would sholy 'a' smasht 
 
 me J but ef I hadn't 'a' been here, I reely b'lieve 
 
 104 
 
now SIIK FUAll.KI) OUT Tllli: G0S8KTT BOYS 
 
 you'd 'a' frailed out do whole gang. You had two 
 whipt, Mincrvy Ann, an' you wuz hankcrin* for do 
 yuther one. I'll hatter sw'ar tcr dc facta 'fo' any- 
 body'll b'licve uin.' I 'low * 'Tain't no use tcr tell 
 nobody, Marsc Tumlin. Folks think I'm bad 'nuff 
 now.* 
 
 "But, shoo! Marse Tumlin would 'a' mighty 
 nigh died ef he couldn't tell 'bout dat day's work. 
 I ain't min' dat so much, but it got so dat when do 
 Oos3ett8 come ter town an' start tcr prankin', de 
 town boys 'ud call um by name, an' holla an' say, 
 * You better watch out darl Minervy Ann Perdue 
 comin' 'roun' de comderl * Dat wuz so errytatin', 
 suh, dat it kyo'd um. Dey drapt der dram-drink- 
 in' an' spreein', an' now dey er high in Horeb 
 Church. Dey don't like me, suh, an' no wonder; 
 but ef dey kin git ter hev'm widout likin' me, I'd 
 be glad ter see um go. 
 
 " Well, suh, I call dc ol' cow, an' she foller long 
 on 'er side er de briers, an' when she got whar de 
 gap wuz, she curl 'er tail over 'er back an' put out 
 fer home, des for all de worl' like she glad 'kaze me 
 an' Marse Ti>mlin f railed out de Gossett boys. 
 
 " I say, * Marse Tumlin, I'm a member er de 
 church an' I don't b'lieve in fightin', but ef we 
 hadn't er fit wid dcm Gossetts we'd 'a' never foun' 
 
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THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 dat ol* cow in de roun' worl'.* He 'low, * An' ef 
 we hadn't er fit wid um, Minervy Ann, I'd 'a' never 
 know'd who ter take wid me f er ter keep de booger- 
 man fum gittin' me.' 
 
 "Dat night, suh, Marse Bolivar Blasengame 
 come rappin' at my do'. Hamp wuz done gone ter 
 bed, an' I wuz fixin' ter go. Marse Bolivar come 
 in, he did, an' shuck han's wid me like he ain't seed 
 me sence de big war. Den he sot down over ag'in' 
 me an' look at me, an' make me tell 'im all 'bout 
 de mmpus. Well, suh, he got ter laughin', an' he 
 laughed twel he can't hardly set in de cheer. He 
 say, * Minervy Ann, ef dem folks say a word ter 
 hurt yo' feelin's, don't tell Tumlin. Des come 
 a-runnin' ter me. He done had his han's on um, 
 an' now I want ter git mine on um.' 
 
 " Dat 'uz de way wid Marse Bolivar. He wa'n't 
 no great han' ter git in a row, but he wuz mighty 
 hard ter git out'n one when he got in. When he 
 start out he stop on de step an' say, ' Minervy Ann, 
 I didn't know you wuz sech a rank fighter.' ' I'm 
 a Perdue,' sez I. Wid dat he got ter laughin', an' 
 fur ez I kin hear 'im he wuz still a-laughin'. He 
 b'longed ter a mighty fine fambly, suh; you know 
 dat yo'se'f." 
 
 156 
 
! 
 
 t 
 
 vn 
 
 MAJOR PERDUE'S BARGAIN 
 
 When next I had an opportunity to talk with 
 Aunt Minervy Ann, she indulged in a hearty laugh 
 before saying a word, and it was some time before 
 she found her voice. 
 
 " What is so fanny to-day? " I inquired. 
 
 " Me, suh — nothin' tall 'bout me, an' 'tain't only 
 ter-day, nudder. Hit's eve'y day sence I been big 
 *nuff fer to see myse'f in de spring branch. I 
 laughed den, an' I laugh now eve'y time I see my- 
 se'f in my min' — ef I' got any min'. I wuz talkin' 
 ter Hamp las' night an' tellin' 'im how I start in ter 
 tell you sump'n 'bout Marse Paul Conant' shoul- 
 der, an' den eend up by tellin' you eve'ything else 
 I know but dat. 
 
 " Hamp 'low, he did, ' Dat ain't nothin', bekaze 
 when I ax you ter marry me, you start in an' tell 
 me 'bout a nigger gal' cross dar in Jasper County, 
 which she make promise fer ter marry a man an' 
 
 157 
 
 I 
 I 
 
V 
 
 1! 
 
 THE CitnONlCiiES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 she crossed her heart; an' den when de time come 
 she stood up an' marry 'im an' fin' out 'tain't de 
 same man, but somebody what she ain't never see' 
 befo'.' 
 
 " I 'speck dat's so, suh, bekaze dey wuz sump'n 
 like dat happen in Jasper County. You know de 
 Waters fambly~dey kep' race-ho3ses. Well, suh, 
 'twuz right on der plantation. Warren Waters tol' 
 me 'bout dat hisse'f. He wuz de hoss-trainer, an' 
 he 'uz right dar on de groun'. When de ggft done 
 married, she look up an' holler, ' You ain't my hus- 
 ban', bekaze I ain't make no promise fer ter marry 
 you.' De man he laugh, an' say, * Don't need no 
 promise atter you done married.' 
 
 " Well, suh, dey say dat gal wuz skeer'd — 
 skeer'd fer true. She sot an' look in de fire. De 
 man sot an' look at 'er. She try ter slip out de do'^ 
 an' he slipped wid 'er. She walked to'rds de big 
 house, an' he walkt wid 'er. She come back, an' 
 he come wid 'er. She run an' he i:un wid 'er. She 
 cry an' he laugh at 'er. She dunner what to do. 
 Bimeby she tuck a notion dat de man m ought be de 
 01' Boy hisse'f, an' she drapped down on her knees 
 an' 'gun ter pray. Dis make de man restless; look 
 like he frettin'. Den he 'gun ter shake like he 
 havin' chill. Den he slip down out'n de cheer. 
 
 168 
 
 M' 
 
MAJOn P£RDUE*g BAR6AlJf 
 
 Den he got on his all-fours. Den his cloze drapped 
 off, an' bless gracious! dar he wuz, a great big black 
 shaggy dog wid a short chain roun' his neck. Some 
 un um flung a chunk of fire at 'im, an' he run out 
 howlin'. 
 
 " Dat wuz de last dey seed un 'im, suh. Dey 
 flung his cloze in de fire, an' dey make a blaze dat 
 come plum out'n de top er de chimbley stack. Dat 
 what make me tell Hamp 'bout it, suh. He ax me 
 fer ter marry 'im, an' I wan't so mighty sho' dat he 
 wan't de OF Boy." 
 
 " "Well, that is queer, if true," said I, " but how 
 about Mr. Conant's crippled shoulder? " 
 
 " Oh, it's de trufe, suh. "Warren "Waters tol' 
 me dat out'^ his own mouf, an' he wuz right dar. 
 I dunno but what de gal wuz some er his kinnery. 
 I don't min' tellin' you dat 'bout Marse Paul, suh, 
 but you mustn't let on 'bout it, bekaze Marse Tum- 
 lin an' Miss Vallie des' ez tetchous 'bout dat ez dey 
 kin be. I'd never git der f ergivunce ef dey know'd 
 I was settin' down here tellin' 'bout dat. 
 
 " You know how 'twuz in dem days. De folks 
 
 what wuz de richest wuz de wussest off when de 
 
 army come home from battlin'. I done tol' you 
 
 'bout Marse Tumlin. He ain't had nothin' in de 
 
 roun' worl' but a whole passel er Ian', an' me an' 
 
 159 
 
 If 
 
 1' 
 
 m 
 
 t, If 
 
THE CHRONICLES OE AUNT MiNERVY ANN 
 
 • ' 
 
 :' i 
 
 r " 
 
 Miss Yallie. I don't count Hamp, bekaze Hamp 
 'fuse ter b'lieve he's free twel he ramble 'roun' an' 
 fin' out de patterollers ain't gwine ter take 'im up. 
 Dat how come I had ter sell ginger-cakes an' 
 chicken-pies dat time. De money I made at dat 
 ain't last long, bekaze Marse Tumlin he been use' 
 ter rich vittles, an' he went right down-town an' got 
 a bottle er chow-chow, an' some olives, an' some 
 sardines, an' some cheese, an' you know yo'se'f , suh, 
 dat money ain't gwine ter las' when you buy dat 
 kin' er doin's. 
 
 " Well, suh, we done mighty well whiles de 
 money belt out, but 'tain't court-week all de time, 
 an' when dat de case, money got ter come fum 
 some'rs else 'sides sellin' cakes an' pies. Bimeby, 
 Hamp he got work at de liberty stable, whar dey 
 hire out bosses an' board um. I cal ■ it a boss tavern, 
 suh, but Hamp, he 'Iott Its a liberty sf ible. Any- 
 how, he got work dar, an' dat sorter he'p out. 
 Sometimes he'd growl bekaze I tuck his money fer 
 ter he'p out my white folks, but when he got right 
 mad I'd gi' Miss Vallie de wink, an' she'd say: 
 * Hampton, how'd you like ter have a little dram 
 ter-night? You look like youer tired.' I could 
 a-hugged 'er fer de way she done it, she 'uz dat 
 ,!u!;e. An' den Hamp, he'd grin an' 'low, * I ain't 
 
 160 
 
MAJOR PERDTTii'S BARGAlT^ 
 
 honin' fer it, Miss Vallie, but 'twon't do me no 
 harm, an' it may do me good.' 
 
 " An' den, suh, he'd set down, an' atter he got 
 sorter warmed up wid de dram, he'd kinder roll his 
 eye and 'low, ' Miss Vallie, she is a fine white 
 'oman! ' Well, suh, 'tain't long 'fo' we had dat 
 nigger man trained — done trained, bless yo' soul! 
 One day Miss Vallie had ter go 'cross town, an' slie 
 went by de liberty stable whar Hamp wuz at, least- 
 ways, he seed 'er some'rs; an' he come home dat 
 night lookin' like he wuz feelin' bad. He 'fuse ter 
 talk. Bimeby, atter he had his supper, he say, ' I 
 seed Miss Vallie downtown ter-day. She wuz wid 
 Miss Irene, an' dat 'ar frock she had on look mighty 
 shabby.' I 'low, ' Well, it de bes' she got. She 
 ain't got money like de Chippendales, an' Miss 
 Irene don't keer how folks' cloze look. She too 
 much quality fer dat.' Hamp say, ' Whyn't you 
 take some er yo' money an' make Miss Vallie git er 
 nice frock? ' I 'low, ' Whar I got any mone;^ 
 Hamp he hit his pocket an' say, ' You got it rigl 
 here.' 
 
 " An' sho' 'nuff, suh, dat nigger man had a 11 
 
 er money — mos' twenty dollars. Some boss 
 
 drovers had come 'long an' Hamp made dat money 
 
 by trimmin' up de ol' mules dey had an' makin' um 
 
 161 
 
 .i! 
 
 V ! 
 
The chronicles op aunt minervy anj? 
 
 ^ 
 
 IT I 
 
 ,4! 
 
 look young. He's got de art er dat, suh, an' dey 
 paid 'im. well. Dar wuz de money, but how wuz I 
 gwine ter git it in Miss Vallie's lian'? I kin buy 
 vittles an' she not know whar dey come fum, but 
 when it come ter buyin' frocks — well, suh, hit 
 stumped me. Dey wan't but one way ter do it, an' 
 I done it. I make like I wuz mad. I tuck de 
 money an' went in de house dar whar Miss Vallie 
 wuz sewin' an' mendin'. I went stompin' in, I did, 
 an' when I got in I started my tune. 
 
 " I 'low, * Ef de Perdues gwine ter go scandaliz- 
 in' deysc'f by trottin' down town in broad daylight 
 wid all kinder frocks on der back, I'm gwine 'way 
 fum here; an' I dun'ncr but what 1 li go anyhow. 
 'Tain't bekaze dey's any lack er money, fer here de 
 money right here.' Wid dat I slammed it down 
 on de table. ' Dar! take dat an' git you a frock 
 dat'U make you iook like sump'n when you git out- 
 side er dis house. An' whiles you er gittin', git 
 sump'n for ter riut on yo' head! ' " 
 
 Whether it was by reason of a certain dramatic 
 
 faculty iiihert nt in her race that she was able to 
 
 summon emotions at will, or whether it was mere 
 
 unconscious reproduction, I am not prepared to say. 
 
 But certain it is that, in voice and gesture, in tone 
 
 and attitude, and in a certain passionate earnestness 
 
 163 
 
 ,4. 
 
m 
 
rr 
 
 ■' t 
 
 r 
 
 
^fAJOR PERDUE'S BARGAIN 
 
 of expression, Aunt Minervy Ann built up the 
 whole scene before my eyes with such power that I 
 seemed to have been present when it occurred. I 
 felt as if she had conveyed me bodily into the room 
 to become a witness of the episode. She went on, 
 still with a frown on her face and a certain violence 
 of tone and manner : 
 
 " I whipped 'roun' de room a time er two, pickin' 
 up de cheers an' slammin' um down ag'in, an' 
 knockin' things 'roun' like I wuz mad. Miss Yal- 
 lie put her sewin' down an' lay her ban' on de 
 money. She 'low, * What's dis, Aunt Minervy 
 Ann? ' I say, * Hit's money, dat what 'tis — noth- 
 in' but nasty, stinkin' money! I wish dey wan't 
 none in de worl' less'n I had a bairlful.' She sorter 
 fumble at de money wid 'er fingers. You dunno, 
 suh, how white an' purty an' weak her han' look ter 
 me dat night. She 'low, * Aunt Minervy Ann, I 
 can't take dis.' I blaze' out at 'er, ' You don't 
 haf'ter take it; you done got it! An' ef you don't 
 keep it, I'll rake up eve'y rag an' scrap I got an' 
 leave dis place. Now, you des' try me ! ' " 
 
 Again Aunt Minervy Ann sumr^oned to her aid 
 
 the passion of a moment that had passed away, and 
 
 again I had the queer experience of seeming to wit- 
 
 ueaa the whole scene. She continued: 
 
 163 
 
 !i 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 " Wid dat, I whipt out er de room an' out er de 
 house an' went an' sot down out dar in my house 
 whar Hamp was at. Hamp, he 'low, ' What she 
 say? ' I say, * She ain't had time ter say nothin' — 
 I come 'way fum dar.' He 'low, * You ain't brung 
 dat money back, is you? ' I -iay: * Does you think 
 I'm a start naked fool? ' He 'low: * Kaze ef you 
 is, I'll put it right spang in de fire here.' 
 
 " Well, suh, I sot dar some little time, but eve'y- 
 thing wuz so still in de house, bein's Marse Tumlin 
 done gone down town, dat I crope back an' crope in 
 fer ter see what Miss Vallie doin'. Well, suh, she 
 wuz cryin' — settin' dar cryin'. I 'low, ' Honey, 
 is I say anything for ter hurt yo' feelin's? ' She 
 blubber' out, * You know you ain't!' an' den she 
 cry good-fpshion. 
 
 " Des 'bout dat time, who should come in but 
 Marse Tumlin. He look at Miss Yallie an' den he 
 look at me. He say, ' Valentine, what de matter? ' 
 I say, * It's me ! I'm de one ! I made 'er cry. I 
 done sump'n ter hurt 'er feelin's.' She 'low, 
 * 'Tain't so, an' you know it. I'm des cryin' be- 
 kaze you too good ter me.' 
 
 " Y^ell, suh, I had ter git out er dar fer ter keep 
 
 fum chokin'. Marse Tumlin foUer me out, an* 
 
 right here on de porch, he 'low, * Minervy Ann, 
 
 164 
 
MAJOR PERDUE'S BARG^UN 
 
 nex' time don't be so dam good to 'er.' I wuz doin' 
 Bome snifflin' myse'f 'bout dat time, an' I ain't keer- 
 in' what I say, so I stop an' flung back at 'im, * Fll 
 he des ez dam good ter 'er ez I please — Fm free ! ' 
 "Well, Buh, stidder hittin' me, Marse Tumlin bust 
 out laughin', an' long atter dat he'd laugh eve'y 
 time he look at me, des like sump'n wuz ticklin' *im 
 mighty nigh ter death. 
 
 " I 'speck he must er tol' 'bout dat cussin' part, 
 bekaze folks 'roun' here done got de idee dat I'm a 
 sassy an' bad-tempered 'oman. Ef I had ter work 
 fer my livin', suh, I boun' you I'd be a long time 
 findin' a place. Atter dat, Ilarap, he got in de Leg- 
 islatur', an' it sho wuz a money-makin' place. Den 
 we had eve'ything we wanted, an' mo' too, but 
 bimeby de Legislatur' gun out, an' den dar we wuz, 
 flat ez flounders, an' de white folks don't want ter 
 hire Hamp des kaze he been ter de Legislatur'; but 
 he got back in do liberty stable atter so Icng a time. 
 Yit 'twan't what you may call livin'. 
 
 " All dat time, I hear Marse Tumlin talkin' ter 
 Miss Vallie 'bout what he call his wil' Ian'. He 
 say he got two thousan' acres down dar in de wire- 
 grass, an' ef he kin sell it, he be mighty glad ter do 
 so. Well, suh, one day, long to'rds night, a two- 
 hoss waggin driv' in at de side gate an' come in de 
 
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 IMAGE EVALUATION 
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 Sciences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
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 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 back-yard. 01' Ben Sadler wuz drivin', an' he 
 'low, * Heyo, Minervy Ann, whar you want doze 
 goods drapped at? ' I say, * Hello yo'se'f, ef you 
 wanter hello. What you got dar, an' who do it 
 'blong ter? ' He 'low, * Hit's goods fer Major 
 Tumlin Perdue, an' whar does you want um 
 drapped at? ' Well, suh, I ain't know what ter say, 
 but I run'd an' ax'd Miss Vallie, an' she say put um 
 oui anywheres 'roun' dar, kaze she dunner nothin' 
 'bout um. So ol' Ben Sadler, he put lun out, an* 
 when I come tev look at um, dey ^atuz a bairl er 
 snmp'n, an' a kaig er sump'n, an' a box er sump'n. 
 De bairl shuck like it mought be 'lasses, an' de kaig 
 shuck like it mought be dram, an' de box hefted 
 like it mought be terbarker. An', sho' 'nuff, dat 
 what dey wuz — a bairl er sorghum syr'p, an' a kaig 
 er peach brandy, an' a box er plug terbarker. 
 
 " I say right den, an' Miss Vallie'U tell you de 
 same, dat Marse Tumlin done gone an' swap off all 
 his wil' Ian', but Miss Vallie, she say no; he won't 
 never think er sech a thing; but, bless yo' soul, suh, 
 she wan't nothin' but a school-gal, you may say, an' 
 she ain't know no mo' 'bout men folks dan what a 
 weasel do. An den, right pon top er dat, here 
 come a nigger boy leadin' a bob-tail boss. When I 
 
 see dat, I dez good ez know'd dat de wil' Ian' done 
 
 1«0 
 
MAJOR FEBDUE'S BABGAIX 
 
 an' 
 
 dat 
 kaig 
 
 |y»an 
 trhat a 
 here 
 lenl 
 done 
 
 been swap oS, bekaze Marse Tumlln ain't got noth- 
 in* f er ter buy all dem things wid, an' I tell you 
 right now, suh, I wuz rank mad, kaze what we want 
 wid any oP bob-tail hoss? De sorghum mought do, 
 an' de dram kin be put up wid, an' de terbarker got 
 some comfort in it, but what de name er goodness 
 we gwine ter do wid dat ol' hoss, when we ain't got 
 hardly 'nuff vittles fer ter feed ourse'f wid? Dat 
 what I ax Miss Yallie, an' she say right pine-blank 
 she dunno. 
 
 " Well, suh, it's de Lord's trufe, I wuz dat mad 
 I dunner what I say, an' I want keerin' nudder, be- 
 kaze I know how we had ter pinch an' squeeze fer 
 ter git 'long in dis house. But I went 'bout gittin' 
 supper, an' bimeby, Hamp, he come, an' I tol' *im 
 'bout de ol' bob-tail hoss, an' he went out an' look 
 at 'im. Atter while, here he come back laughin'. 
 I say, * You well ter laugh at dat ol' hoss.' He 'low, 
 * I ain't laughin' at de hoss. I'm laughin' at you. 
 Gal, dat de finest hoss what ever put foot on de 
 groun' in dis town. Dat's Marse Paul Conant's 
 trottin' hoss. He'll fetch fi' hunder'd dollars any 
 day. What he doin' here? ' I up an' tol' 'im all 
 I know'd, an' he shuck his head; he 'low, ' Gal, you 
 lay low. Dey's sump'n n'er behime all dat.' 
 
 " What Hamp say sorter make me put on my 
 
 W7 
 
 !■! 
 
 I •* 
 
THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 -I 
 
 8tudyin*-cap; but when you come ter look at it, auli, 
 dey wan't nothin* 'tall fer me ter study 'bout. All 
 I had ter do wuz ter try ter fin' out what wuz be- 
 hime it, an' let it go at dat. When Marse T'lmlin 
 come home ter supper, I know'd sump'n wuz de 
 matter wid 'im. I know'd it by his looks, suh. It's 
 sorter wid folks like 'tis wid chillun. Ef you keer 
 Bump'n *bout um you'll watch der motions, and ef 
 you watch der motions dey don't hatter tell you 
 when sump'n de matter. He come in so easy, suh, 
 dat Miss Vallie ain't hear 'im, but I hear de do' 
 screak, an' I know'd 'twuz him. We wuz talkin' an' 
 gwine on at a mighty rate, an' I know'd he done 
 stop ter lisn'. 
 
 " Miss Vallie, she 'low she 'speck somebody made 
 'im a present er dem ar things. I say, * Uh-uh, 
 honey! don't you fool yo'se'f. N'obody ain't 
 gwine ter do dat. Our folks ain't no mo' like dey 
 useter wuz, dan crabapples is like plums. Dey 
 tlone come ter dat pass dat whatsomever dey gits 
 der ban's on dey 'fuse ter turn it loose. All un 
 um, 'cep' Marse Tumlin Perdue. Dey ain't no tell- 
 in' what he gun fer all dat trash. Trash! Hit's 
 ^uss'n trash! I wish you'd go out dar an' look at 
 dat ol' bob-tail boss. Why dat ol' boss wuz stove 
 ^p long 'fo' de war. By rights he ought ter- be ia 
 
 166 
 
MAJOR PERDUE'S BARGAIN 
 
 Lz be- 
 imUn 
 oz de 
 .. It*8 
 ukeer 
 and ef 
 i\\ you 
 jy, 8m1i, 
 : de do* 
 
 he done 
 
 ly made 
 I' TJli-nb, 
 y ain't 
 like dey 
 ts. Dey 
 dey gits 
 
 It no tell- 
 / Hit's 
 look at 
 LZ stove 
 ter'b'e itt 
 
 de bone-yard dia ve'y minnit. He won't be here 
 two whole days 'fo' you'll see de buzzards lined up 
 out dar on de back fence waitin', an' dey won't hat- 
 ter wait long nudder. Ef dey sen' any corn here 
 fer ter feed dat bag er bones wid, I'll parch it an' 
 eat it myse'f 'fo' he shill have it. Ef anybody 
 'speck I'm gwine ter 'ten' ter dat ol' frame, deyer 
 'specto'n' wid de wrong specks. I tell you dat right 
 now.' 
 
 " All dig time Marse Tumlin wuz stan'in' out in 
 de hall lis'nin'. Miss Vallie talk mighty sweet 
 'bout it. She say, ' Ef dey ain't nobody else ter 
 'ten' de boss, reckiu I kin do it.' I 'low, * My life 
 er me, honey! de nex' news you know you'll be 
 hirin' out ter de liberty stable.' 
 
 " "Well, suh, my talk 'gun ter git so hot dat Marse 
 Tumlin des had ter make a fuss. He fumbled wid 
 de do' knob, an' den come walkin' down de hall, an' 
 by dat time I wuz in de dinin'-room. I walk 
 mighty light, bekaze ef he say anything I want ter 
 hear it. You can't call it eave-drappin', suh; hit 
 look ter m 3 dat 'twuz ez much my business ez 'twuz 
 dem, an' I ain't never got dat idee out'n my head 
 down ter dis day. > 
 
 " But Marse Tumlin ain't say nothin', 'cep' fer 
 
 ter ax Miss Vallie ef she f eelin' well) an' how eve'jr. 
 
 ■169 
 
 i 
 
THE CHBONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 thing waZf but de minnit I hear 'im open his monf 
 I know'd he had trouble on his min'. I can't tell 
 you how I know'd it, 8uh, but dar Hwuz. Look like 
 he tried to hide it, bekaze he tol' a whole lot of 
 funny tales 'bout folks, an' 'twan't long befo' he 
 had Hiss Vallie laughin' fit ter kill. But he ain't 
 fool me, suh. 
 
 "Bimeby, Miss Vallie, she come in de dinin'- 
 room fer ter look attor settin' de table, bekaze fum 
 a little gal she allers like ter have de dishes fix 
 des so. She wuz sorter hummin' a chune, like she 
 ain't want' ter talk, but I ain't let dat stan' in my 
 way. 
 
 " I 'low,* I wish eve'ybodywuz like dat Mr. Paul 
 Conant. I bet you right now he been down town 
 dar all day makin' money han' over fist, des ez fast 
 ez he can rake it in. I know it, kaze I does his 
 washin' and cleans up his room fer 'im.' 
 
 " Miss Vallie say, * Well, what uv it? Money 
 don't make 'im no better'n anybody else.' I 'low, 
 * Hit don't make 'im no wuss; an' den, 'sides dat, 
 he ain't gwine ter let nobody swindle 'im.' 
 
 " By dat time, I hatter go out an' fetch supper 
 in, an' 'tain't take me no time, bekaze I wuz des' 
 achin' fer ter hear how Marse Tumlin come by dem 
 ar contraptions an' contrivances. An' I stayed in 
 
(9 
 
 [nouf 
 t tell 
 klike 
 lot of 
 £o' be 
 B ain't 
 
 dinin*- 
 ze f um 
 lies fix 
 like she 
 ' ininy 
 
 ilr.Paul 
 town 
 
 iS ez fas* 
 does bis 
 
 Honey 
 I 'low, 
 lides dat, 
 
 Ih supper 
 l-wiiz des 
 le by dem 
 stayed in 
 
 MAJOlEl PfiftDUE'S BAllOAlN 
 
 dar ter wait on de table, which it ain't need no wait- 
 in' on. 
 
 " Atter while, I 'low, * Marse Tumlin, I like ter 
 forgot ter tell you — yo' things done come.* He 
 say, * What things, Minervy Ann? * I 'low, * Dem 
 ar contraptions, an' dat ar bob-tail boss. He look 
 mighty lean an' hongry, de boss do, but Hamp he 
 i^ay dat's bekaze he's a high-bred boss. He say dem 
 ar high-bred bosses won't take on no fat, no matter 
 how much you feed um.' 
 
 " Marse Tumlin sorter drum on de table. Atter 
 while he 'low, * Dey done come, is dey, Minervy 
 Ann? ' I say, * Yasser, dey er here right now. 
 Hamp puts it down dat dat ar boss one er de gay- 
 liest creatur's what ever make a track in dis town.' 
 
 " Well, sub, 'tain't no use ter tell you what else 
 wuz said, kaze 'twan't much. I seed dat Marse 
 Tumlin want gwine ter talk 'bout it, on account er 
 bein' 'fear'd he'd hurt Miss Vallie's feelin's ef he 
 tol' 'er dat be done swap off all dat wil' Ian' f er dem 
 ar things an' dat ar bob-tail boss. Dat what he 
 done. Yasser 1 I bear 'im sesso atterwards. He 
 swap it off ter Marse Paul Conant. 
 
 " I thank my Lord it come out all right, but it 
 
 come mighty nigh bein' de ruination er de f ambly. 
 
 " How was that? " I inquired. 
 
 171 
 
 I 
 
 » 
 
1 
 
 t 
 
 THE CHBONICLES OF AUNT MINEBVY ANN 
 
 " Dat what I'm gwine ter tell you, suh. Right 
 atter supper dat night, Marse Tumlin say he got ter 
 go down town fer ter see a man on some business, an' 
 he ax me ef I won't stay in de house dar wid Misa 
 Vallie. 'Twa'n't no trouble ter me, bekaze I'd 'a' 
 been on de place anyhow, an' so when I got de 
 kitchen cleaned up an' de things put away, I went 
 back in de house whar Miss Vallie wuz at. Marse 
 Tumlin wuz done gone. 
 
 '' Miss Yallie, she sot at de table doin' some kind 
 er rufflin', an' I sot back ag'in de wall in one er dem 
 ar high-back cheers. What we said I'll never tell 
 you, suh, bekaze I'm one er deze kinder folks what 
 ain't no sooner set down an' git still dan dey goes 
 ter noddin'. Dat's me. Set me down in a cheer, 
 high-back er low-back, an' I'm done gone! I kin 
 set here on de step an' keep des ez wide-'wake ez a 
 skeer'd rabbit, but set me down in a cheer — well, 
 suh, I'd like ter see anybody keep me 'wake when 
 dat's de case. 
 
 " Dar I sot in dat ar high-back cheer. Miss Vallie 
 
 rufflin' an' flutin' sump'n, an' tryin' ter make me 
 
 talk, an' my head roUin' 'roun' like my neck done 
 
 broke. Bimeby, hlam! blam! come on de do'. 
 
 We got one er dem ar' jinglin' bells now, suh, but in 
 
 dem times we had a knocker, an' it soun' like de 
 
 172 
 
MAJOR PERDUE'S BARGAIN 
 
 roof fallin' in. I like ter jumped out'n my skin. 
 Miss Vallie drapped her conflutements an' 'low, 
 * What in de worl'l Aunt Minervy Ann, go ter 
 de do'.' 
 
 " Well, suh, I went, but I ain't had no heart in 
 it, bekaze I ain't know who it mought be, an' whar 
 dey come fum, an' what dey want. But I went. 
 'Twuz me er Miss Vallie, an' I want gwine ter let 
 dat chile go, not dat time er night, dough 'twa'n't so 
 mighty late. 
 
 " I open de do' on de crack, I did, an' 'low, ^ Who 
 dat? ' Somebody make answer, * Is de Major in. 
 Aunt Minervy Ann? ' an' I know'd right den it wuz 
 Marse Paul Conant. An' it Come over me dat he 
 had sump'n ter do wid sendin' er dem contraptions, 
 mo' 'speshually dat ar bob-tail boss. An' den, too, 
 suh, lots quicker'n I kin tell it, hit come over me 
 dat he been axin' me lots 'bout Miss Vallie. AIJ 
 come 'cross my min', suh, whiles I pullin' de do' 
 open. 
 
 " I 'low, I did, * No, suh; Marse Tumlin gone 
 
 down town fer ter look atter some business, but he 
 
 sho ter come back terreckly. Won't you come in, 
 
 suh, an' wait fer 'im? ' He sorter flung his head 
 
 back an' laugh, saf t like, an' gay, ' I don't keer ef I 
 
 do, Aunt Minervy Ann.' 
 
 178 
 
 'il 
 
 i 
 
 
I 1 
 
 TtiB) CHKOnICLES of AtNt MlNfifeW ANN 
 
 " I 'low, * Walk right in de parlor, suh, an' I'll 
 make a light mos' 'f o^ you kin turn 'roun'. He 
 come in, he did, an' I lit de lamp, an' time I lit 'er 
 she 'gun ter smoke. "Well, suh, he tuck dat lamp, 
 run de wick up an' down a time er two, an' dar she 
 wuz, bright ez day. 
 
 " When I went back in de room whar Miss Val- 
 lie wuz at, she wuz stan'in' dar lookin' skeer'd. She 
 say, ' Who dat? ' I 'low, ' Hit's Marse Paul Co- 
 nant, dat's who 'tis. She say, * What he want? ' I 
 'low, *Nothin' much; he does come a-courtin'. 
 Better jump up an' not keep 'im waitin'.' 
 
 " Well, suh, you could 'a' knock'd 'er down wid 
 a fedder. She stood dar wid 'er han' on 'er th'oat 
 takin' short breffs, des like a little bird does when it 
 flies in de winder an' dunner how ter fly out ag'iu. 
 
 " Bimeby, she say, * Aunt Minervy Ann, you 
 
 ought ter be 'shame or yo'se'f I I know dat man 
 
 when I see 'im, an' dat's all.' I 'low, * Honey, you 
 
 know mighty well he ain't come 'callin'. But he 
 
 wanter see Marse Tumlin, an' dey ain't nothin' fer 
 
 ter bender you f um gwine in dar an' makin' 'im feel 
 
 at home while's he waitin'.' She sorter sttdy 
 
 awhile, an' den she blush up. She say, * I dunno 
 
 whedder I ought ter.' 
 
 " Well, suh, dat settled it. I know'd by de way 
 
 174 
 
MAJOR PURDUE'S BARGAIN 
 
 she look an' talk dat she don't need no mo' 'gwadin*. 
 I say, 'All right, honey, do ez you please; but it's 
 yo' house; you er de mist'iss; an' it'll look mighty 
 funny ef dat young man got ter set in dar by hisse'f 
 an' look at de wall whiles he waitin' f er Marse Tum- 
 lin. I dunner what he'll say, kaze I ain't never 
 hf r 'im talk 'bout nobody; but I know mighty well 
 he'll do a heap er thinkin'.' 
 
 " Des like I tell you, suh — she skipped 'roun' 
 dar, an' flung on 'er Sunday froti, shuck out 'er 
 curls, an' sorter fumble' 'roun' wid some ribbons, 
 an' dar she wuz, lookin' des ez fine ez a fiddle, ef not 
 finer. Den she swep' inter de parlor, an', you 
 mayn't b'lieve it, suh, but she mighty nigh tuck de 
 man's brefP 'way. Mon, she wuz purty, an' she 
 ain't do no mo' like deze eve'y-day gals dan nothin'. 
 When she start 'way fum me, she wuz « gal. By 
 de time she walk up de hall an' sweep in dat parlor, 
 she wuz a grown 'oman. De blush what she had 
 on at fust stayed wid 'er an' look like 't wuz er 
 natchual color, an' her eyes shine, suh, like she had 
 fire in um. I peeped at 'er, suh, fum behime de cur- 
 tains in de settin'-room, an' I know what I'm talk- 
 in' 'bout. It's de Lord's truf e, suh, ef de men f oks 
 could tote derse'f like de wimmen, an' do one way 
 
 whiles dey feelin' annuder way, dey wouldn't be no 
 
 ITS 
 
THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 livin* in de worF. You take a school gal, suh, an* 
 she kin fool de smartest man what ever trod shoe 
 leather. He may talk wid 'er all day an' half de 
 night, an' he never is ter fin' out what she thinkin' 
 'bout. Sometimes de gals fools deyse'f, suh, but 
 dat's mighty seldom. 
 
 " I dunner what all dey say, kaze I ain't been in 
 dar so mighty long 'fo' I wuz noddin', but I did 
 hear Marse Paul say he des drapt in fer 'poUygLee 
 'bout a little joke he played on Marse Tumlin. Miss 
 Vallie ax what wuz de joke, an' he 'low dat Marse 
 Tumlin wuz banterin' folks fer ter buy his wil' 
 Ian'; an' Marse Paul ax 'im what he take fer it, an' 
 Marse Tumlin 'low he'll take anything what he can 
 chaw, sop, er drink. Dem wuz de words — chaw, 
 sop, er drink. Wid dat, Marse Paul say he'd gi* 
 'im a box er terbarker, a bairl er syr'p, an' a kaig er 
 peach brandy an' th'ow in his buggy-hoss fer good 
 medjer. Marse Timilin say * done ' an' dey shuck 
 ban's on it. Dat what Marse Paul tol' Miss Vallie, 
 an he 'low he des done it fer fun, kaze he done 
 looked inter dat wil' Ian', an' he 'low she's wuflF a 
 pile er money. 
 
 " Well, suh, 'bout dat time, I 'gun ter nod, an' 
 de fus news I know'd Miss Vallie wuz whackin' 
 'way on de peanner, an' it look like ter me she wuz 
 
gl' 
 
 an' 
 
 
 
 'E 
 
 c 
 
 u 
 
 
 3 
 
 11 
 
UA30% PfiftDtJE*S BASGAlK 
 
 des tryin' 'ersa'f. By dat time, dey wuz gettin' 
 right chummy, an' so I des curl up on de flo', an' 
 dream dat de peanner chunes waz comin' out'n & 
 bairl des like 'lasses. 
 
 " When I waked up, Marse Paul Conant done 
 gone, an' Marse Tumlin ain't come, an' Miss Vallie 
 wuz settin' dar in de parlor lookin' up at de ceilin' 
 like she got some mighty long thoughts. Her color 
 wuz still up. I look at 'er an' laugh, an' she made 
 a mouf at me, an' I say ter myse'f, * Hey I sump'n 
 de matter here, sho,' but I say out loud, * Marse 
 Paul Conant sho gwine ter ax me ef you ain't had a 
 dram.' She laugh an' say, * What answer you 
 gwine ter make? ' I 'low, * I'll bow an' say, " No, 
 suh; Pm de one dat drinks all de dram fer de fam- 
 bly." 
 
 ** Well, suh, dat chile sot In ter laughin', an' she 
 
 laugh an' laugh twel she went inter highsterics. 
 
 She wuz keyed up too high, ez you mought say, an' 
 
 dat's de way she come down ag'in. Bimeby, Marse 
 
 Tumlin come, an' Miss Vallie, she tol' 'm 'bout how 
 
 Marse Paul done been dar; an' he sot dar, he did, 
 
 an' himimed an^ haw'd, an' done so funny dat, 
 
 bimeby, I 'low, * Well, folks, I'll hatter tell you 
 
 good-night,' an' wid dat I went out." 
 
 At this point Aunt Minervy leaned forward, 
 
 177 
 
\ 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 J I, 
 
 clasped her hands over her knees, and shook her 
 head. When she took up the thread of her narra- 
 tive, if it can be called such, the tone of her voice 
 was more subdued, almost confidential, in fact. 
 
 " Nex' momin' wuz my wash-day, suh, an* 'bout 
 ten o'clock, when I got ready, dey want no bluin' in 
 de house an' mighty little soap. I hunteu high an' 
 I hunted low, but no bluin' kin I fin'. An' dat 
 make me mad, bekaze ef I hatter go down town 
 atter de bluin', my wash-day'll be broke inter. 
 But 'tain't no good fer ter git mad, bekaze I wuz 
 bleeze ter go atter de bluin'. So I tighten up my 
 head-hankcher, an' flung a cape on my shoulders 
 an' put out. 
 
 " I 'speck you know how 'tis, suh. You can't go 
 down town but what you'll see nigger wimmen 
 stan'in' out in de front yards lookin' over de palin'd. 
 Dey all know'd me an' I know'd dem, an' de la?/ 
 blessed one un um hatter hail me ez I go by, an' I 
 hatter stop an' pass de time er day, ls,aze ef I'd ^a' 
 whipt on by, dey'd 'a' said I wuz gwine back bofe 
 on my church an' on my color. I dunner how long 
 dey kep' me, but time I got ter Proctor's sto', I 
 know'd I'd been on de way too long. 
 
 " I notice a crowd er men out dar, some settin' 
 
 an' some stan'in', but I run'd in, I did, an' de young 
 
 178 
 
MAJOR PERDUE'S BARGAIN 
 
 I'l 
 
 ',1 
 
 man what do de clerkin', he f oiler me in an' ax what 
 I want. I say I want a dime's wuflf er bliiin', an* 
 f er ter please, suh, wrop it up des ez quick ez he kin. 
 I tuck notice dat while he wuz gittin' it out'n de 
 box, he sorter stop like he lis'nin' an' den ag'in, 
 whiles he had it in de scoop des ready f er ter drap 
 it in de scales, he helt his han' an' wait. Den I 
 know'd he wuz lis'nin'. 
 
 '' Dat makes me lis'n, an' den I hear Marse Tum- 
 lin talkin', an' time I hear 'im I know'd he wuz er- 
 rytated. Twa'n't bekaze he wuz talkin' loud, suh, 
 but 'twuz bekaze he wuz talkin' level. When he 
 talk loud, he feelin' good. When he talk low, an* 
 one word srun' same ez anudder, den somebodj' 
 better git out'n his way. I lef ' de coimter an' step 
 ter de do' fer ter see what de matter wuz betwix' 
 um. 
 
 " Well, suh, dar wuz Marse Tumlin stan'in' dar 
 close ter Tom Ferryman. Marse Tumlin, 'low, 
 * Maybe de law done 'pinted you my gyardeen. 
 How you know I been swindled?' Tom Perry- 
 man say, * Bekaze I hear you say he bought yo' wil* 
 Ian' fer a little er nothin'. He'll swindle you ef 
 you trade wid 'im, an' you done trade vnd 'im.* 
 Marse Tumlin, 'low, * Is Paul Conant ever swindle 
 you? ' Tom Perryman say, ' No, he ain't, an' ef 
 
 m 
 
THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 i 
 
 ! 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 S 5 
 
 iH 
 
 he vraz ter I'd give 'im a kickin'.' Marse Tumlin 
 *low, * "Well, you know you is a swindler, an* no- 
 body ain't kick you. How come dat? ' Tom 
 Ferryman say, * Ef you say I'm a swindler, you're 
 a liar.' 
 
 " Well, suh, de man ain't no sooner say dat dan 
 hang! went Marse Tumlin's pistol, an' des ez it 
 banged Marse Paul Conant run 'twix' um, an' de 
 ball went right spang th'oo de collar-bone an' sorter 
 sideways th'oo de p'int er de shouider-blade. Marse 
 Tumlin drapt his pistol an' cotch 'im ez he fell an* 
 knelt down dar by 'im, an' all de time dat ar Tom 
 Ferryman wuz stan'in' right over um wid his pistol 
 in his han'. I squall out, I did, * Whyn't some er 
 you white men take dat man pistol 'way fum 'im? 
 Don't you see what he fixin' ter do? ' 
 
 " I run'd at 'im, an' he sorter flung back wid his 
 
 arm, an' when he done dat somebody grab 'im fum 
 
 behime. All dat time Marse Tumlin wuz axin* 
 
 Marse Paul Conant ef he hurt much.' I hear 'im 
 
 say, * I wouldn't 'a' done it fer de worl', Conant — 
 
 not fer de worl'.' Den de doctor, he come up, an' 
 
 Marse Tumlin, he pester de man twel he hear 'im 
 
 «ay, * Don't worry. Major; dis bo^'U live ter be a 
 
 older man dan you ever will.' Den Marse Tumlin 
 
 got his pistol an' hunt up an' down fer dat ar Toqi 
 
 180 
 
MAJOR PERDUE'S BARGAIN 
 
 Ferryman, but he done gone. I seed 'im when he 
 got on his hoss. 
 
 " I say to Marse Tumlin, ' Ain't you des ez well 
 ter fetch Marse Paul Conant home whar we all kin 
 take keer uv 'im? ' He 'low, ' Dat's a fach. Go 
 home an' tell yo' Miss Vallie fer ter have de big 
 room fixed up time we git dar wid 'im.' I say, 
 * Humph 1 I'll fix it myse'f; I know'd I ain't 
 gwine ter let Miss Vallie do it.' 
 
 " Well, suh, 'tain't no use fsr ter tell yer de rest. 
 Dar's dat ar baby in dar, an' what mo' sign does you 
 want ter show you dat it all turned out des like one 
 er dem ol'-time tales? " 
 
 ivi 
 
vm 
 
 THE CASE OF MART ELLEN 
 
 It came to pass in due time that Atlanta, follow- 
 ing the example of Halcyondale, organized a fair. 
 It was called the Piedmont Exposition, and, as 
 might be supposed. Aunt Minervy Ann was among 
 those attracted to the city by the event. She came 
 to see whether the fair was a bigger one than that 
 held at Halcyondale. !N"aturally enough she made 
 my house her headquarters, and her coming was 
 fortunately timed, for the cook, taking advantage 
 of the heavily increased demand for kitchen ser- 
 vants, caused by the pressure of strangers in the city, 
 had informed us that if we wanted^ her services we 
 could either double her wages or dispense with her 
 entirely. It was a very cunningly prepared plan, 
 for there was company in the house, friends from 
 middle Georgia, who had come to spend a week 
 while the exposition was going on, and there would 
 
 have been no alternative if Aunt Minervy Ann, 
 
 m 
 
THE CASE OF MARY ELLEN 
 
 llow- 
 f air. 
 id, as 
 mong 
 came 
 n that 
 made 
 g was 
 ntage 
 n ser- 
 e city, 
 es we 
 ;liher 
 plan, 
 from 
 week 
 Iwould 
 Ann, 
 
 her Sunday hat sitting high on her head, had not 
 walked in the door. 
 
 " I hope all er you-all is well," she remarked. 
 " Ef you ain't been frettin' an' naggin' one an'er 
 den my nose done been knocked out er j'int, kaze I 
 know sump'n 'bleeze ter be de matter." 
 
 The truth is, the lady of the house was blazing 
 mad with the cook, and I was somewhat put out 
 myself, for the ultimatum of the servant meant 
 robbery. Aunt Minervy Ann was soon in posses- 
 sion of the facts. At first she was properly indig- 
 nant, but in a moment she began to laugh. 
 
 " D'^s come out on de back porch wid me, 
 please'm. All I ax you is ter keep jo* face straight, 
 and don't say a word less'n I ax you sump'n'." She 
 flung her hat and satchel in a comer and sallied out. 
 " I don't blame cooks fer wantin' ter quit when 
 dey's so much gwine on up town," she remarked, in 
 a loud voice, as she went out at the back door. " Dey 
 Stan' by a stove hot wedder er col', an' dey ain't got 
 time ter go ter buryin's. But me! I don't min' de 
 work; I'm ol' an' tough. Why, de well ain't so 
 mighty fur fum de steps, an' dar's de wood-cellar 
 right dar. How much you pay yo' cooks, ma'am? " 
 
 " What wages have you been getting? " asked 
 the lady of the house. 
 
 W 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 I 
 
 " Wellum, down dar whar I come fum dey been 
 payin* me four dollars a mont'— dat de reason I 
 come up here. Ef you gi' me six I'll stay an' you 
 won't begrudge me de money. Tu'n me loose in de 
 kitchen an' I'm at home, ma'am — plum' at home." 
 
 The lady seemed to be hesitating, and the silence 
 in the kitchen was oppressive. 
 
 " I'll decide to-day," she remarked. " Our cook 
 is a good one, but she has been thinking of resting 
 awhile. If she goes, you shall have the place." 
 
 " Den she ain't gone? " cried Aunt Minervy 
 Ann. " "Well, I don't want de place less'n she goes. 
 I ain't gwine ter run my color out'n no job ef I kin 
 he'p it. We got 'nuff ter contend wid des dry so." 
 Then she turned and looked in the kitchen. " Ain't 
 dat Julie Myrick? " she asked. 
 
 " How you know me? " cried the cook. " I 
 b'lieve in my soul dat's Miss 'Nervy Ann Perdue ! " 
 
 With that Aunt Minervy Ann went into the kit- 
 chen, and the two old acquaintances exchanged 
 reminiscences for a quarter of an hour. After 
 awhile she came back in the sitting-room, stared 
 at us with a half-indignant, half-quizzical expres- 
 sion on her face, and then suddenly collapsed, fall- 
 ing on the floor near a couch, and laughing as only 
 an old-time negro can laugh. Then she sat bolt 
 
 194 
 
N 
 
 THE CASE OP MARY ELLEN 
 
 been 
 son I 
 ' you 
 inde 
 Dme." 
 ilence 
 
 r cook 
 •esting 
 
 e. 
 
 >» 
 
 inervy 
 e goes, 
 f I kin 
 
 » 
 
 ry 80 
 r Ain't 
 
 "I 
 
 rdue! " 
 the kit- 
 langed 
 After 
 stared 
 lexpres- 
 Id, fall- 
 las only 
 U bolt 
 
 upright, and indignation, feigned or real, swept the 
 smiles from her countenance, as if they had been 
 suddenly wiped out with a sponge. 
 
 " You know what you got in dat kitchen dar? 
 You ain't got nothin' in de worl' in dar but a Injun 
 merlatter; dat zackly what you got. I know'd her 
 daddy and I know'd her mammy. 01' one-legged 
 Billy Myrick wuz her daddy, an' he wuz one part 
 white an' one part nigger, an' one part Injun. 
 Don't tell me 'bout dem kind er tribes. Dey ain't 
 no good in um. Hamp'U tell you dat hisse'f, an' 
 he b'longed ter de Myrick 'state. Merlatter is bad 
 'nuff by itse'f, but when you put Injun wid it — 
 well, you may hunt high an' you may hunt low, 
 but you can't git no wuss mixtry dan dat. I tell 
 you right now," Aunt Minervy Ann went on, " I 
 never did see but one merlatter dat wuz wuff a 
 pinch er snuff, an' she wuz so nigh white dat de ol' 
 boy hisse'f couldn't 'a' tol' de diffunce. Seem like 
 you must 'a' knowed Mary Ellen Tatum, suh?" 
 she suggested, appealing to my memory. 
 
 I had heard the name somehow and somewhere, 
 but it was as vague in my recollection as a dream. 
 
 " Maybe you didn't know 'er, suh, but she was 
 bom an' bred down whar I cum fum. Dat's sol 
 Slie wuz done gone fum dar when you come. Wu;? 
 
 m 
 
 111 
 
'>i 
 
 i I 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 ol' Fed Tatum dead? Yasser 1 ol' Fed died de year 
 
 dey quit der battlin', an' 'twuz de year atter dat 
 
 when you come; an' you sho did look puny, suh, 
 
 ter what you does now. Well, ol' Fed Tatum, he 
 
 wuz one er deze yer quare ereeturs. He made 
 
 money han' over fist, an' he had a sight er niggers. 
 
 He had a place sorter close ter town, but he didn't 
 
 stay on it; an' he had a house not fur fum Marse 
 
 Bolivar Blasengame, but he'd des go out ter his 
 
 place endurin' er de day, an' den he'd come back, 
 
 git his vittles, an' walk ter de tavern an' dar he'd 
 
 take a cheer an' go off by hisse'f, an' set wid his 
 
 chin in his coat collar, an' look at his foots an' 
 
 make his thum's turn somersets over one an'er. Ef 
 
 you wanted ter talk wid ol' Fed Tatum, you'd haf ter 
 
 go whar he wuz settin' at an' do all de talkin' yo'- 
 
 se'f. He'd des set back dar an' grunt an' maybe 
 
 not know who you wuz. But when he come huntin' 
 
 you up, you better watch out. Dey say dey ain't 
 
 nobody ever is make a trade wid ol' Fed but what 
 
 dey come out at de little een' er de horn. 
 
 " Well, ol' Fed had a nigger 'oman keepin' house 
 
 fer 'im, an' doin' de cookin' and washin'. I say 
 
 * nigger,' suh, but she wuz mighty nigh white. She 
 
 wuz Mary Ellen's mammy, an' Mary Ellen wuz 
 
 des white ez anybody, I don't keer whar dey cum 
 
 180 
 
THE CASE OP MARY ELLEN 
 
 house 
 I say 
 . She 
 n wuz 
 y cum 
 
 fum, an' she wuz purty fum de word go. Dey 
 wa'n't never no time, suh, atter Mary Ellen wuz 
 bom dat she wa'n't de purtiest gal in dat town. I 
 des natchully 'spises merlatters, but dey wuz sump'n 
 'bout Mary Ellen dat allers made a lump come in 
 my goozle. I tuck ter dat chile, suh, de minnit I 
 laid my eyes on 'cr She made me think 'bout 
 folks I done forgot ef I ever know'd um, an' des de 
 sight un 'er made me thirk 'bout dem ol' time 
 chunes what mighty nigh break yo' heart when you 
 hear um played Hght. Dat wuz Mary Ellen up an' 
 down. 
 
 " Well, suh, when Mary Ellen got so she could 
 trot 'roun', old Fed Tatum sorter woke up. He 
 stayed at home mo', and when de sun wuz shinin' 
 you might see 'im any time setting in his peazzer 
 wid Mary Ellen playin' roun', er walkin' out in de 
 back yard wid Mary Ellen trottin' at his heels. 
 I'm telling you de start-naked trufe — by de time 
 dat chile wuz six-year ol' she could read; yasserl 
 read out'n a book, an' read good. I seed her do it 
 wid my own eyes, an' heer'd 'er wid my own years. 
 'Tain't none er dish yer readin' an' stoppin' like you 
 hear de school chillun gwine on ; no, suh I 'Twu2 
 de natchual readin' right 'long. An' by de time 
 
 she wuz eight, dey wa'n't no words in no book in 
 
 187 
 
 i 
 
 1| 
 
 i 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 *y 
 
 dat town but what she could take an' chaw um 
 same as lawyers in do cote-house. Mo' dan dat, 
 8uh, she could take a pencil, an' draw yo' likeness 
 right 'fo' yo' face. 
 
 " 'Long 'bout dat time she struck up wid little 
 Sally Blasengame, an' when dem two got tergedder 
 dar wuz de pick er de town ez fer ez de chillun 
 went. I don't say it, suh, bekaze Marse Bolivar 
 was Marse Tumlin's br'er-in-law — dey married 
 sisters — but his little gal Sally wuz ez fine ez split 
 silk. Mary Ellen had black hair an' big black eyes, 
 an' Sally had yaller hair an' big blue eyes. Atter 
 dey come ter kr'^w one an'er dey wa'n't a day but 
 what dem two chillun wuz playin' tergedder. How 
 many an' many is de times I seed um gwine 'long 
 wid der arms 'roun' one an'er I 
 
 " Well, one day atter dey been playin' tergedder 
 a right smart whet Marse Bolivar 'gun ter make in- 
 quirements 'bout Mary Ellen, an' when he foun' 
 out who an' what she wuz, he went out whar dey 
 at an' tol' her she better go home. I wuz right dar 
 in de back yard when he said de word. Mary Ellen 
 stood an' looked at 'im, an' den she picked up her 
 bonnet an' marched out'n de yard holdin' her head 
 up; she wuz twelve year ol' by den. 
 
 " Sally seed Mary Ellen go out, an' she turn 
 
 188 
 
THE CASE OP MARY ELLEN 
 
 *roun' on her daddy, her face ez white ez a sheet. 
 Den her whole frame 'gun ter shake. She 'low, 
 ' I been lovin' you all dis time, an' I didn't know 
 you could be so mean an' low-life.' She flung at 
 'im de fust words dat pop in her min'. 
 
 " Murse Bolivar say, * \Vb^, honey! Why, pre- 
 cious 1 * an' start ter put his arm 'roun' 'er. She 
 flung fura 'im, she did, an' cry out, * Don't you 
 never say dem words ter n.e no mo' ez long ez you 
 live, an' don't you never tetch me no mo'.' Den 
 she seed me, an' she come runnin' des like she wuz 
 skeer'd. She holler, * Take me 'way I take me 
 'way I Don't let 'im tetch met ' Talk 'bout tem- 
 per — talk 'bout venom! All dem Blasengames had 
 it, an* when you hurt de f eelin's er dat kind er folks 
 dey are hurted sho 'nuff. Marse Bolivar couldn't 
 'a' looked no wuss ef somebody had 'a' spit in his 
 face while his ban's tied. You talk 'bout people 
 lovin' der chillun, but you dunner nothin' 'tall 
 'bout it twel you see Marse Bolivar lovin' Sally. 
 Why, de very groun' she walkt on wuz diffunt ter 
 him fum any udder groun'. He wuz ready ter die 
 fer 'er forty times a day, an' yit here she wuz wid 
 her feelin's hurt so bad dat she won't let 'im put 
 his ban's on 'er. An' he ain't try; he had sense 
 
 'nuff fer dat. He des walk 'roun' and kick up de 
 
 189 
 
 '' I 
 
III ! 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MlNERVY ANN 
 
 gravel wid de heel er his boots. But Sally, she had 
 'er face hid in my frock, an* she ain't so much ez 
 look at 'im. Bimeby he went in de house, but he 
 ain't stay dar long. He come out an' look at Sally, 
 an' try ter make 'er talk, but she erfuse ter say a 
 word, an' atter while he went on up-town. 
 
 " Ef dey ever wuz hard-headed folks, suh, dat 
 wuz de tribe. He went uptown, but he ain't stay 
 long, an' when he come back he foun' Sally in de 
 house cryin' an' gwine on. She won't tell what de 
 matter, an' she won't let nobody do nothin' fer 'er. 
 Now, ef she'd 'a' been mine, suh, I'd 'a' frailed 'er 
 out den an' dar, an' I'd 'a' kep' on frailin' 'er out 
 twel she'd 'a' vowed dat she never know'd no gal 
 name Mary Ellen. Dat's me! But Marse Bolivar 
 ain't look at it dat away, an' de man what never 
 knuckle ter no human bein', rich er po', high er 
 low, had ter knuckle ter dat chile, an' she wa'n't 
 much bigger dan yo' two fists. 
 
 " So bimeby he say, * Honey, I'm gwine atter 
 Mary Ellen, ef dat's her name, an' she can stay 
 here all day an' all night, too, fer what I keer.' 
 
 " Sally 'low, * She sha'n't come here! she sha'n'tl 
 
 I don't want nobody ter come here dat's got ter git 
 
 der feelin's hurted eve'y time dey come.' 
 
 " Eight dar, suh, is whar my han' would 'a' come 
 
 190 
 
 - r 
 
Tim CASE OF MARY ELLEN 
 
 atter 
 stay 
 
 down hard; but Marse Bolivar, he knuckle. He 
 say, * Well, honey, you'll hafter fergive me dis 
 time. I'll go fetch 'er ef she'll come, an' ef she 
 won't 'tain't my fault.' 
 
 " So out he went. I dunner how he coaxed Mary 
 Ellen, but she say he tol' 'er dat Sally wuz feelin* 
 mighty bad, an' wuz 'bleeze ter see 'er; an' Mary 
 Ellen, havin' mo' heart dan min', come right along. 
 An' Marse Bolivar wuz happy fer ter see Sally 
 happy. 
 
 " Dis wuz long 'fo' de battlin', suh, but even dat 
 fur back dey wuz talkin' 'bout war. 01' Fed Tatum 
 wuz a mighty long-headed man, an' he know'd 
 mighty well dat ef Mary Ellen stayed dar whar she 
 wuz at, she won't have no mo' show dan a chicken 
 wid its head wrung off. So he fixed 'er up an' 
 packed 'er off up dar whar de Korthrons is at. He'd 
 'a' sont her mammy wid 'er, but she say no; she'd 
 be in de way; folks would 'spicion what de matter 
 wuz; an' so she shet her mouf an' stayed. EfMary 
 Ellen had 'a' been my chile, suh, I'd 'a' gone wid 
 'er ef I had ter claw my way wid my naked ban's 
 thoo forty miles er brick wall. But her mammy 
 was diffunt; she stayed an' pined. 
 
 " Now, ef anybody want pinin' done dey'U hafter 
 
 go ter somebody else 'sides ol' Minervy Ann Per- 
 
 191 
 
THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 due. When you see me pinin', suh, you may know 
 my tongue done cut out an' my ban's pairlized. Ef 
 Mary Ellen had 'a' been my chile dey'd 'a' been 
 murder done, suh. I'd 'a' cotch ol' Fed Tatum by 
 what little hair he had an' I'd 'a' ruint 'im; an' ez 
 'twuz, I come mighty nigh bavin' a fight wid 'imi 
 An' ef I had— e/ 1 had " 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann was on her feet. Her right 
 a m was raised high in the air, and her eyes blazed 
 with passion. It was not a glimpse of temper she 
 gave us, but a fleeting portrayal of mother-love at 
 white beat. She had been carried away by her 
 memory, and had carried us away with her; but she 
 caught herself, as it were, in the act, lau^^hed, and 
 sat down again uy the sofa, caressing it with both 
 arms. Presently she resumed her narrative, ad- 
 dressing herself this time to the lady of the house. 
 It was a stroke of rare tact that had its effect. 
 
 " Wellum, Mary Ellen wa'n't my chile, an' ol* 
 
 Fed Tatum sont 'er off up dar 'n;ongst de North- 
 
 ,rons; an' 'bout de time de two sides *gun der bat- 
 
 tlin' he sol' some Ian' an' sont her 'nuff iDoney ter 
 
 las' 'er twel she got all de lamin' she want. Den 
 
 de war come, an' nobody ain't hear no mo' 'bout 
 
 Mary Ellei-. Dey fit an' dey font, an' dey fout 
 
 an' dey fit, an' den, bimeby, dey quit, an' fer long 
 
 192 
 
n 
 
 THE CASE OP MARY ELLEN 
 
 in' or 
 
 orth- 
 r bat- 
 ey ter 
 Den 
 bout 
 font 
 long 
 
 days nobody didn't know whedder ter walk back- 
 erds er go f omids. 
 
 " 01' Fed Tatum wuz one er dem kinder folks, 
 ma'am, what you been seein' an' knowin' so long 
 dat you kinder git de idee dey er gwine ter stay des 
 like dey is; but one day ol' Fed Tatum fetch'd a 
 grunt an' went ter bed, an' de nex' day he fetch'd 
 a groan an' died. He sho did. An' den when dey 
 come ter look into what he had, dey foun' dat he 
 ain't got nothin' he kin call his own but a little cabin 
 in one een' er town, an' dis went ter Mary Ellen's 
 mammy. 
 
 " I tell you now, ma'am, dat 'oman tried me. 
 She wuz long an' lank aia' slabsided, an' she went 
 'bout wid 'er mouf shet, an' 'er cloze lookin' like 
 somebody had flung um at 'er. I like ter hear folks 
 talk, myself, an' ef dey can't do nothin' else I like 
 ter see um show dey temper. But dat 'oman, she 
 des walk 'roun' an' not open her mouf fum mornin' 
 twel night, less'n you ax 'er sump'n. I tried ter git 
 her ter talk 'bout Mary Ellen, but she ain't know 
 no mo' 'bout Mary Ellen dan a rabbit. 
 
 " I dunner but what we'd 'a' got in a fuss, ma'am, 
 
 kaze dat 'oman sho did try me, but 'long 'bout dat 
 
 time Marse Bolivar's gal tuck sick, an' 'twa'n't long 
 
 'fo' she died. 'Twuz a mighty pity, too, kaze dat 
 
 198 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 chile would 'a' made a fine 'oman — none better. 
 'Long todes de las' she got ter gwine on 'bout Mary 
 Ellen. Look like she could see Mary Ellen in de 
 fever-dreams, an' she'd laugh an' go on des like 
 she useter when she wuz a little bit er gal. 
 
 " Wellum, when dat chile died Marse Bolivar 
 come mighty nigh losin' 'is min'. He ain't make 
 no fuss 'bout it, but he des fell back on hisse'f an' 
 walk de flo' night atter night, an' moan an' groan 
 when he think nobody ain't lis'nin'. An' den, atter 
 so long a time, here come a letter fum Mary Ellen, 
 an' dat broke 'im all up. I tell you right now, 
 ma'am, Marse Bolivar had a hard fight wid trouble. 
 I don't keer what folks may say; dey may tell you 
 he's a hard man, ready ter fight an' quick ter kill. 
 He's all dat, an' maybe mo'; but I know what I 
 know. 
 
 " "Wellum, de days went an' de days come. 
 Bimeby I hear some er de niggers cay dat Mary 
 Ellen done come back. I laid oif ter go an' see de 
 chile; but one dry I wuz gwine 'long de street an' I 
 met a white lady. She say, ' Ain't dat Aunt Mi- 
 nervy Ann? ' I 'low, ' Yessum, dis is de remnants.' 
 Wid dat, ma'am, she grab me 'roun' de neck an' 
 hug me, an' bu'st out a-cryin', an' 'twa'n't nobody 
 in de worl' but Mary Ellen. 
 
 194 
 
THE CASE OF MARY ELLEN 
 
 Lary 
 de 
 'I 
 
 " Purty! I never has foun' out, ma'am, how any 
 human can be ez purty ez Mary Ellen. Her skin 
 wuz white ez milk an' her eyes shine like stars. I'd 
 'a' never know'd her in de worl'. But dar she wuz, 
 cryin' one minnit an' laugliin' de nex'. An' she wuz 
 in trouble too. She had a telegrpph in her han' 
 tellin' 'er dat one er her ol' schoolmates gwine on 
 ter Flurridy wuz gwine ter stop over one train des 
 ter see Mary Ellen. Hit seem like dat up dar whar 
 she been stayin' at she ain't never tell nobody but 
 what she wuz white, an' de human wa'n't bom dat 
 could tell de diffunce. So dar 'twuz. Here wuz de 
 Northron lady comin' fer ter see Mary Ellen, an' 
 what wuz Mary Ellen gwine ter do? — whar wuz she 
 gwine ter take de ]^orthron lady? Dar wuz de ram- 
 shackle cabin, an' dar wuz my kitchen. You may 
 think 'twuz funny, ma'am " 
 
 " But I don't," said the lady of the house, abrupt- 
 ly and unexpectedly; " I don't think it was funny 
 at all." 
 
 Aunt Minervy Ann looked at me and lifted her 
 
 chin triumphantly, as she resumed: "No'm, 'twa'n't 
 
 funny. Mary Ellen wuz proud an' high-strung; 
 
 you could read dat in de way she walk an' eve'y 
 
 motion she make, an' dat ar telegraph dat de North- 
 
 ron lady sont 'er funi Atlanty kinder run 'er in ^ 
 
 195 
 
m 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 comer. She dunner what ter do, ner which way ter 
 turn. Look at it yo'se'f, ma'am, an' see whar she 
 wuz. 
 
 " She laughed, ma'am, but she wuz in trouble, 
 an' I'm sech a big fool dat I'm allers in trouble 
 'long wid dem what I like. Take de tape-line ter 
 der trouble an' den ter mine, an' you'll fin' dat 
 dey medjer 'bout de same. Mary Ellen laugh an' 
 say, * Dey's two things I kin do; I kin leave town, 
 er I kin go down dar ter de cabin an' kill myse'f.* 
 Oh, she wuz in a comer, ma'am — don't you 
 doubt it. ' 
 
 " Eight den an' dar sump'n pop in my head. I 
 'low, * Is you been ter call on Marse Bolivar Bla- 
 sengame? ' She say * No, I ain't. Aunt Minervy 
 Ann. I started ter go, but I'm afear'd ter.' I 'low, 
 * Well, I'm gwine dar right now; come go wid 
 me.' 
 
 " So we went dar, and I left Mary Ellen on do 
 back porch, an' I went in de house. Marse Bolivar 
 wuz settin' down, gwine over some papers, an' Mis' 
 Em'ly wuz darnin' an' patchin'. 
 
 " I say, * Marse Bolivar, dey's a gal out here dat 
 I thought maybe you an' Mis' Em'ly would be glad 
 ter see? " 
 
 " He 'low, * Dang you' hide, Minervy Ann! Ypu 
 
 J99 
 
iV 
 
 Lis 
 
 dat 
 rlad 
 
 THE CASE OP MABY ELLEN 
 
 like ter make me jump out'n my skin. Wlio is de 
 gal?' 
 
 " I say, ' I wanter see ef you know *ep.' Wid 
 dat I went back an' f otch Mary Ellen in. Well, dey 
 didn't know 'er, ma'am, na'er one un um; an* I 
 dunner how it all happened, but de fust thing I 
 know Mary Ellen fell on 'er knees, by a lounge what 
 sot under de place whar Miss Sally's pictur' wuz 
 hangin' at. She fell on her knees, Mary Ellen did, 
 and 'low, * She'd know who I is,' an' wid dat she 
 bust aloose an' went ter cryin' des like 'er heart wuz 
 done broke in two. 
 
 " Marse Bolivar stood dar an' wait twel Mary 
 Ellen cool off, an' quiet down. Mis' Em'ly, ma'am, 
 is one er dem ar primity, dried-up wimmen, which, 
 ef dey ain't fightin' you wid bofe ban's, er huggin' 
 you wid bofe arms, ain't sayin' nothin' 'tall. An' 
 ef Mis' Em'ly ain't sayin' nothin' you can't put de 
 key in de Bible an' fin' no tex' dat'll tell you what 
 she got in 'er min'. But she wuz damin', an' I see 
 'er wipe one eye on de leg er de sock, an' den pres- 
 ent'y she wipe t'er eye. 
 
 " Wellum, Marse Bolivar stood dar an' look at 
 Mary Ellen, an' when she riz fum her knees an' 
 stood dar, her head hangin' down, still a-cryin', but 
 mo' quieter, he went close up an' 'low, * I know you, 
 
 197 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 ! 
 
 Mary Ellen, an' I'm mighty glad ter see you. Dat 
 ar letter what you writ me, I got it yit, an' I'm 
 gwine ter keep it whiles I live.' 
 
 " He talk right husky, ma'am, an' I 'gun ter feel 
 husky myse'f ; an' den I know'd dat ef I didn't 
 change de tune, I'd be boo-hooin' right dar 'fo' all 
 un um wid needer 'casion nor 'skuce. I went up 
 ter Mary Ellen an' cotch 'er by de shoulder and say, 
 'Shucks, gal! Dat train'll be here terreckly, an' 
 den what you gwine ter do? ' 
 
 " 'Twuz a hint ez broad ez a horse-blanket, 
 ma'am, but Mary Ellen never tuck it. She des 
 stood dar an' look at me. An' 'bout dat time Marse 
 Bolivar he ketch'd holt er my shoulder an' whirlt 
 me 'roun', an' 'low, * What de matter, Minervy 
 Ann? Talk it right out!' 
 
 " Wellum, I let you know I tol' 'im; I des laid 
 it off ! I tol' des how 'twuz; how Mary Ellen been 
 sont up dar by ol' Fed Tatum, an' how, on de 'count 
 er no fault er her'n de Northron fplks tuck 'er ter 
 be a white gal; an' how one er de gals what went 
 ter school wid 'er wuz gwine ter come ter see 'er an' 
 stay 'twixt trains. Den I 'low, ' Whar is Mary 
 Ellen gwine ter see 'er? In dat ar mud-shack whar 
 her ma live at? In de big road? In de woods? In 
 de hoss-lot? " 
 
 ft '■ 
 
THE CASE OP MARY ELLEN 
 
 an 
 
 ;s laid 
 been 
 
 "count 
 
 'er ter 
 went 
 
 'er an' 
 Mary 
 wliar 
 i? In 
 
 The whole scene from beginning to end had been 
 enacted by Aunt Minervy Ann. In the empty 
 spaces of the room she had placed the colonel, his 
 wife, and Mary Ellen, and they seemed to be before 
 us, and not only before us, but the passionate ear- 
 nestness with which she laid the case of Mary Ellen 
 before the colonel made them live and move under 
 our very eyes. 
 
 "In de hig road? In de woods? In de hoss- 
 lot?" 
 
 And when she paused for the reply of the colonel, 
 the look of expectation on her face was as keen and 
 as eager as it could have been on the day and the 
 occasion when she was pleading for Mary Ellen. 
 The spell was broken by the lady of the house, who 
 leaned forward eagerly as if expecting the colonel 
 himself to reply. Perhaps Aunt Minervy Ann 
 misunderstood the movement. She paused a mo- 
 ment as if dazed, and then sank by the sofa with a 
 foolish laugh. 
 
 " I know you all put me down ter be a fool," she 
 said, " an' I 'speck I is." 
 
 " Nonsense! " cried the lady of the house, sharp- 
 ly. " What did the colonel reply? " 
 
 Aunt Minervy remained silent a little while, 
 
 picking at one of the fringes of the sofa. She was 
 
 ;99 
 

 ;, , 
 
 ' 
 
 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 evidently trying to reassemble in her mind the in- 
 cidents and surroundings of her narrative. Pres- 
 ently she began again, in a tone subdued and con- 
 fidential : 
 
 " Marse Bolivar look at me right h^^d, den he 
 look at Mary Ellen, an' den he pull at de tip-een' er 
 his year. Wellum, I fair belt my breff ; I say ter 
 myse'f, * Man, whyn't you look at poor Miss Sally's 
 pietur'? I wuz feared a fly might light on 'im an' 
 change his min'. But, look at de pietur' he did, 
 an' dat settled it. 
 
 " He 'low, ' Set down, Mary Ellen; you look 
 tired. Minervy Ann, fetch 'er a drink er water.' 
 Wellum, you may well b'lieve dat I flied up an' 
 flew'u 'roun' an' fetch dat water. Den he 'low, 
 * Minervy Ann, go in dar an' straighten out dat 
 parlor; fling open de blinds an' do 'bout in 
 darl ' " 
 
 Again Aunt Minervy Ann arose from her re- 
 clining position by the sofa and stgod in the floor; 
 again, by a wave of her hand, she brought the scene 
 before our eyes. 
 
 " I stood dar, I did, an' look at dat man. I 'low, 
 
 ' Marse Bolivar, less'n it's Marse Tumlin, youer de 
 
 bes' man da^ God A'mighty ever breathe de breath 
 
 er life inter! ' He rub his han' over his face an' 
 
 ?00 
 
THE CASE OF MARY ELLEN 
 
 in- 
 
 ^r re- 
 loor; 
 scene 
 
 I 'low, 
 3r de 
 reath 
 
 say, * Dang yo' ol' hide! go on an' hush upl Fiim 
 de time I fust know'd you, you been gittin' me an' 
 Tumlin in hot water.' 
 
 " I flung back at 'im, ' ^TainH never scald you! 
 ^TainH never been too deep fer you! ' He straight- 
 en hisse'f up an' helt his head back an' laugh. He 
 'low, * Dang it all, Minervy Ann ! Dey er times 
 when I want it bofe hot an' deep. You go an' 
 scuffle 'roun' in dat parlor, an' don't you let yo' Mis' 
 Em'ly do a han's-turn in dar.' 
 
 " Wellum, dat uz 'bout de upshot un it. Ds 
 Northron lady wuz name Miss Wilbur, er Willard, 
 I disremember which, but she was a mighty nice 
 white gal. Marse Bolivar an' Hamp wuz bofe at de 
 train ter meet 'er, an' Marse Bolivar fotch 'er right 
 ter de house, an' sliow'd 'er in de parlor. Atter 
 while, Mary Ellen went in dar, an' 'twuz a mighty 
 meetin' 'twix um. Dey chattered same ez a flock 
 er blackbirds on a windy day; an' atter so long a 
 time Marse Bolivar went in dar. 'Twa'n't long 'fo' 
 he got ter tellin' tales, an' de Northron lady laugh 
 so she kin hardly set on de cheer. Den he open de 
 pianner, an' ax de v/hite lady ter play, but she vow 
 she can't play atter he been hearin' Maiy Ellen. 
 Den he say, * Won't you play me a chune, Mary 
 Ellen? Sump'n oF timey? ' 
 
 20J 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 " Dat gal went ter de planner, ma'am, an' sot 
 dar wid her han's over her face like she prayin', an' 
 den she laid her han's on de keys an' started a chune 
 des like yo' hear in yo' dreams. It got a little 
 louder, an' den present'y you could hear 'er singin'. 
 I never did know whar'bouts her voice slipped inter 
 dat chune ; but dar 'twuz, an' it fit in wid de planner 
 des like a flute does. 
 
 " Wellum, it tuck me back, way back dar in de 
 ol' days, an' den brung me down ter later times, 
 fer many a moonlight night did I hear Miss Sally 
 an' Mary Ellen sing dat song when dey wuz chillun. 
 Den atter dat de Northron lady plump herse'f down 
 at de planner, an' she she did shake dat ol' shebang 
 up. 'Twuz dish yer highfalutin' music what sprung 
 up sence de war, an' it sho sound like war ter me, 
 drums a-rattlin', guns a-shootin', an' forty-levm 
 brass horns all tootin' a diffunt chune. 
 
 " When train-time come, ma'am, de Northron 
 lady ax Mary Ellen ef she won't go ter de train wid 
 'er. But Marse Bolivar spoke up an' say dat Mary 
 Ellen been feelin' bad all de momin', an' she hatter 
 skuzen 'er. He went wid de lady hisse'f, an' when 
 he come back Mary Ellen tol' 'im she never would 
 fergit what he done fer her dat day, an' say she 
 gwine ter pay 'im back some day. 
 
 m 
 
 ' 
 
THE CASE OF MARY ELLEN 
 
 luld 
 she 
 
 " What did tlie neighbors say about it? " the lady 
 of the house a8l:ed, in her practical way. 
 
 " Dat what pestered me all de time, ma'am," 
 Aunt Minervy Ann replied. " I ax Marse Bolivar, 
 * What de folks gwine ter say when dey hear 'bout 
 dis come off? ' He stuck his thum's in de arm- 
 holes er his wescut, an' 'low, * Dat what I wanter 
 know, an' I wanter know so bad, Minervy Ann, dat 
 ef you hear anybody talkin' loose talk 'bout it, des 
 come runnin' ter me while it's hot. Now don't you 
 fail.' 
 
 " But Marse Bolivar ain't wait fer me ter hear 
 what folks say. He went polin' up town de nex' 
 day, an' tol' 'bout it in eve'y sto' on de street, an' 
 de las' man in town vow'd 'twuz de ve'y thing ter 
 do. An' dat ain't all, ma'am I De folks dar riise 
 a lot er money fer Mary Ellen, an' de way dat chile 
 went on when Marse Bolivar put it in 'er han' an' 
 tol' er whar it come f um wuz pitiful ter see. 
 
 " Dat's de way 'tis, ma'am; ketch um in de hu- 
 mor an' eve'ybody's good; ketch um out'n de hu- 
 mor an' dey er all mean — I know dat by my own 
 feelin's. Ef a fly had lit on Marse Bolivar's face 
 dat day, Mary Ellen would 'a' had ter face 'er 
 trouble by 'er own 'lone self. Ef some sour-minded 
 
 man had gone up town an' told how Marse Bolivar 
 
 808 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 wuz en'tainin' nigger gals an' a Yankee 'oman 
 in his parlor, dey'd all been down on 'im. An' 
 den " 
 
 " What, then? " the lady of the house asked, as 
 Aunt Minervy Ann paused. 
 
 " Dey'd 'a' been weepin' an' whailin' in de set- 
 tlement sho. Ain't it so, suh ? " 
 
 It was natural, after Aunt Minervy Ann had nar- 
 rated the particulars of this episode, that her state- 
 ments should dwell in my memory, and sally forth 
 and engage my mind when it should have been con- 
 cerned with other duties. One of these duties was 
 to examine each day the principal newspapers of 
 New England in search of topics for editorial com- 
 ment. 
 
 An eye trained to this business, as any exchange 
 editor can tell you, will pick out at a glance a fa- 
 miliar name or suggestive phrase, no matter what 
 its surroundingp nor how obscurely it may be 
 printed. Therefore, one day, weeks after Aunt Mi- 
 nervy Ann's recital, when I opened the Boston 
 Transcript at its editorial page, it was inevitable 
 that the first thing to catch my eye was the familiar 
 name of " Mary Ellen Tatum." It was printed 
 in type of the kind called nonpareil, but I would 
 
 have seen it no sooner nor more certainly if it 
 
 204 
 
THE CASE OF MAKY ELLEN 
 
 had been printed in letters reaching half across the 
 page. 
 
 Mary Ellen Tatum! The name occurred in a 
 three-line preface to the translation of an art note 
 from a Paris newspaper. This note described, with 
 genuine French enthusiasm, the deep impression 
 that had been made on artists and art circles in 
 Paris by a portrait painted by a gifted young Amer^ 
 ican artist, Mile. Marie Helen Tatum. It is need- 
 less to transcribe the eulogy — I have it in my scrap- 
 book. It was a glowing tribute to a piece of 
 work that had created a sensation, and closed 
 with the announcement that another genius had 
 " arrived." 
 
 The comments of the Boston editor, following 
 the sketch, declared that the friends of Miss Mary 
 Ellen Tatum in Boston, where she spent her early 
 years and where she was educated, were proud of 
 her remarkable success, and predicted for her a 
 glorious career as an artist. 
 
 I had no more than cut this piece from the news- 
 paper when the door-bell rang, and as there hap- 
 pened to be no one in the house to answer it at the 
 moment, I went to the door myself, the clipping 
 still in my hand, and there before my eyes was Col- 
 onel Bolivar Blasengame, his fine face beaming 
 
 205 
 
THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 with good-nature. He had come at a moment when 
 I most desired to see him, and I greeted him cor^ 
 dially. 
 
 " I see now," said the colonel, " why it is I can 
 never catch you in your office in town; you do your 
 work at home. Well, that's lots better than workin' 
 where any and everybody can come in on you. I 
 thought I'd find you out here enjoying your otium 
 cum digitalis f as old Tuck Bonner used to say; 
 but instead of that you're waist-deep in news- 
 papers." 
 
 I assured the colonel that there were some peo- 
 ple in the world whom I would be glad to see, no 
 matter how busy I might be. 
 
 " I know the feeling," replied Colonel Blasen- 
 game; " but you'll be cussing me as sure as the 
 world, for I haven't a grain of business to see you 
 about. But I hear Tumlin and old Aunt Minervy 
 Ann talking about you so constantly that I thought 
 I'd come out and say howdye, if no more." 
 
 " Well, you'll have to say more than that this 
 time," I remarked; "I was just thinking, when 
 you rang the door-bell, that I would give some- 
 thing pretty to see you." 
 
 " Now, is that reely so? " cried the colonel. 
 
 " Then I'm twice glad — once because I took a no- 
 
 M6 
 
THE CASE OF MARY ELLEN 
 
 tion to come, and once again because you're glad. 
 You used to fight so shy of me when you lived 
 among us that I was afraid I wouldn't get on wi' 
 you; but I'm sorter offish myself." 
 
 " Colonel," said I, " did you ever know Mary 
 Ellen Tatum? " 
 
 He rubbed his face and forehead with his hand, 
 and regarded me with a slight frown, and a smile 
 that seemed to mean anything except pleasure. 
 
 " Will you allow me to ask you why you put 
 such a question to me? " 
 
 " Why, certainly. Colonel; read that." I placed 
 the clipping from the Transcript in his hand. He 
 held it off at arm's length and tried to decipher it, 
 but the print was too fine. Placing it on his knee, 
 he searched in his pockets until he found his specta- 
 cles, and then he read the article through carefully 
 — not once, but twice. 
 
 Then smoothing the clipping out on his knee, he 
 looked at me inquiringly. 
 
 " Do you know Mary Ellen? " he asked. I dia 
 not, and said so. " Did you ever hear of her be- 
 fore? " 
 
 " Why, yes," I replied. " Aunt Minervy Ann 
 
 told me some very interesting things about her, and 
 
 I wanted to ask you if they were true." 
 
 807 
 
THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 The colonel jumped to his feet with a laugh. 
 " Plague on old Minervy Ann ! " he exclaimed. 
 " Why, I came out here purposely to tell you about 
 Mary Ellen. This thing," indicating the clipping, 
 " is away behind the time with its news. The pict- 
 ure it tells about is at my house this very minute, 
 and another one in the bargain. The first chance 
 you get, come down home and look at 'em. If you 
 don't open your eyes I'll never sign my name S. B. 
 Blasengame again." He walked up and down the 
 room in a restless way. " What do you reckon that 
 gyurl did? " he asked, stopping before me and 
 stretching out his right arm. " Why, she sent a 
 man with the pictures — a right nice fellow he was, 
 too. He said it cost a pile of money to git 'em 
 through the custom-house at 'New York; he had to 
 hang around there a week. When I asked him for 
 his bill he raised his hands and laughed. Every- 
 thing was paid." 
 
 The colonel continued to walk upland down the 
 room. He was always restless when anything 
 interested him, unless it happened to be a mat- 
 ter of life and death, and then he was calmness 
 itself. 
 
 " Did Aunt Minervy Ann — blame her old hide! 
 
 — I wanted to tell you the whole story myself — did 
 
 208 
 
 <i 
 
THE CASE OF MARY ELLEN 
 
 she tell you about a letter Mary Ellen wrote me 
 when " — the colonel paused and cleared his throat 
 — " about a letter Mary Ellen wrote me in the 
 seventies? " 
 
 " She did," I rc-lied. 
 
 " "Well, here's the letter," he said, after fum- 
 bling in his big pocketbook. " It's not a mattei to 
 be showing around, but you seem almost like one 
 of the family, and you'll know better how to appre- 
 ciate the pictures when you read that." 
 
 He turned and went out of the room into the 
 hallway and H ""n to the veranda, where I heard his 
 firm and measured step pacing back and forth. The 
 letter was not a very long one, but there was some- 
 thing in it — a vague undertone of loneliness, a 
 muffled cry for sympathy, which, as I knew all the 
 facts of the case, almost took my breath away. 
 
 The letter was dated " Boston, September 8th, 
 1878," and was as follows: 
 
 " Colonel Blasengame — Two days ago the home 
 paper came to me bringing the news of the great loss 
 which has come to your household, and to me. I feel 
 most keenly that a letter from me is an unwarranted 
 intrusion, but I must speak out my thoughts to some- 
 one. Miss Sallie was almost the only friend I had when 
 she and I were children together — almost the only per- 
 son that I ever cared for. I loved her while she lived, 
 and I shall cherish her memory to the day of my death. 
 
 209 
 
THE CHRONICLES OP AUNT MINERVY ANN 
 
 " You do not know me, and you will not recognize the 
 name signed to this. It is better, far better that this 
 should be so. It is enough for you to know that a 
 stranger in a strange land will lie awake many and many 
 a long nigb.t, weeping for the dear young lady who is 
 dead. 
 
 "Maby Ellen Tatum." 
 
 What has become of Mary Ellen? the reader 
 may ask. I have asked the same question hundreds 
 of times and received no reply to it. So far as we 
 provincials are concerned, she has disappeared ut- 
 terly from the face of the earth. 
 
 810 
 
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