THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 
 
 BY 
 
 LOUISE PIKE. 
 
 BOSTON : 
 
 EASTERN PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
 
 6 I COURT STREET. 
 
 1900
 
 Copyright, 1900, 
 
 by 
 LOUISE PIKE. 
 
 FOREIGN LANGUAGE PRESS, 202 Harrison Avtnut, 
 BOSTON, MASS.
 
 ?5 
 
 P5 
 
 Contents. 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 A PRANK OF HYMEN g 
 
 CLARISSA'S MAW 20 
 
 THE REVOLT OF AMOS 36 
 
 TOBIT'S CALL 44 
 
 A GAME OF CRAPS 55 
 
 TEMPE'S VENTURE 68 
 
 HE KNEW THE MISTRESS 77 
 
 A No 'COUNT NIGGER 86 
 
 BIG BEN 92 
 
 Two GOURDS OF FAT 101 
 
 EPHIRAM'S BOLD STROKE 108 
 
 A HOODOED SEVEN 123 
 
 in 
 
 1 1 254-74 
 JL JL VV v-" ->- tf --
 
 preface* 
 
 FEW, very few now are the genuine old 
 time plantation darkies. The old colored re 
 tainer is almost a thing of the past and his 
 passing might serve for the theme of an in 
 teresting bit of sectional history. Silently 
 and slowly the great throng of them have 
 gone, leaving nothing but a memory in the 
 place once theirs. 
 
 Yet no obituaries are written, telling how 
 they have lain down the shovel and the hoe, 
 in very truth ; just a few of them are left and 
 their fidelity deserves endless praise. 
 
 The dialect too, of these dark-skinned com 
 edies and tragedies of the old times is pas 
 sing, and the less pleasing, less picturesque 
 speech of the school-bred darky is taking its 
 place. Soon, with the last vanishing remnant 
 v
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 of the " old heads," will have passed a curious 
 mode of speech, the imitation of the English 
 tongue by the immediate descendants of the 
 African negro. 
 
 The melodies also are now very seldom 
 heard. The songs of the rice and cotton 
 fields, the themes of which are trivial and 
 primitive, full of monotonous repetition, but 
 full also of vocal harmonies, rich, strange, of 
 barbaric originality, they are not easy to 
 write or interpret, yet they are musical, 
 haunting, and inimitable. 
 
 Yet in time will we say" good-bye " to them 
 as we are saying it to the singers, carelessly 
 and unheedingly, when their preservation 
 would have enriched the literature of song. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 VI
 
 Co Clarissa 
 
 Cbese Calcs are dedicated 
 
 as a grateful remembrance 
 
 by the 
 
 Hutbor. 
 
 VII
 
 H prank of F)ymen, 
 wvvv 
 
 r INA was up earlier than usual. 
 It had been very hot all night in 
 her small cellar room in the alley, 
 and though she had retired late 
 the continued stifling heat kept 
 her awake most of the night. 
 Consequently she had got up long 
 before sunrise, put her room to rights, and, 
 as it was Wednesday morning, dressed her 
 self neatly in freshly laundered clothes. 
 
 Tina was cooking in a banker's family just 
 then, and one of the requisites of the situa- 
 ation was that the cook should always be 
 cleanly dressed. So when Tina emerged from 
 the alley into the cross-street she looked very 
 smart indeed. Her gingham dress was gay 
 in color, and very stiffly starched, her apron 
 
 9
 
 IO A PRANK OF HYMEN. 
 
 was spotless, and she carried on her arm a 
 basket of generous size in which to stow away 
 the broken food sent back from the dining- 
 room. 
 
 For many mornings Tina passed on her 
 way to her service place, returning at night 
 almost the same way. Then one morning 
 the kitchen was vacant, and for several days 
 the banker's family was cookless, being un 
 willing to supply itself from the great float 
 ing supply of servants that besieges the resi 
 dence portion of the city every Monday morn 
 ing. After a time Tina returned, and taking 
 up her work where she had left off, kept on 
 as though no interruption had taken place. 
 
 " Bin down in de kentry ter see pa's wife," 
 she explained, a few days later. " She was 
 pow'ful sick, and liked ter die. She did 
 dat." 
 
 Time passed and the monotony of service 
 became again very tiresome, and Tina was 
 once more thinking of visiting her father's
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. II 
 
 wife, when on her way to work some one ac 
 costed her from behind : 
 
 " Lady : say, dar, lady ! " 
 
 Tina turned to confront a small black man, 
 seemingly on his way to work also, for he 
 wore a number of very soiled nondescript 
 garments, and tied over the front of all, an 
 apron fashioned from a tattered portion of an 
 old gunnysack. 
 
 "Who dat hailin' me?" Tina asked, turn 
 ing. 
 
 " Hit's me, lady," the man answered } 
 shuffling his ragged feet awkwardly before 
 her. " I done seed you go by so much I 
 'lowed I lak de way you look, and was gwine 
 ax yer if you wouldn't keep comp'ny ? " 
 
 " Who is you, anyhow, nigger ? " 
 
 " I'se drayman for some white men down 
 on de canal. I gits fo' dollars a week." 
 
 " Um, hun ! " meditatively. " I reckon you 
 can come 'long ' bout sundown. I cooks all 
 day on de hill foh de quality."
 
 12 A PRANK OF HYMEN. 
 
 Tina turned away and the man returned 
 to his deserted dray and mule, standing near 
 by. As he mounted and rattled off down the 
 uneven pavement, his thoughts were satis 
 factory indeed. 
 
 " Mighty purty 'oman dat is. I 'lowed she 
 gwine git mad when I hail her, but she didn't. 
 Nice as pie. Cook, too. He, he ! " 
 
 Tina thought many times that day of her 
 new admirer, and many toothsome dainties 
 found their way into her service pan in anti 
 cipation of his expected visit that night. 
 
 "I'm gittin' tired of service, anyhow," she 
 told herself, " an' he 'lowed he gits fo' dol 
 lars a week. Ef he don't drink to much licker 
 an' ef he ain't got no more 'oman I'll quit 
 cookin', sho." 
 
 It was with quite different inspirations that 
 the drayman decked himself in his best to 
 pay his first visit to his inamorata. Trousers 
 that once had been white, but from repeated 
 washings had turned a feeble gray and shrunk
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 13 
 
 considerably, adorned his nether limbs. A 
 white shirt and vivid pink collar shone resplen 
 dent through the opening of his coat, an 
 article that had once graced the portly person 
 of a union soldier, but which with careful 
 hoarding did duty for much holiday wear. 
 His hat was of the beaver shape, newer than 
 any other article of his toilet, for it was one 
 of the light campaign hats, given to him by 
 a young politician the morning after the last 
 presidential unpleasantness. Very well pleased 
 with the appearance of his outer man, Isaac 
 presented himself at the door of Tina's room 
 in due time, but was not very well pleased or 
 entirely prepared for the reception accorded 
 him. Tina wore her usual workaday frock, 
 but, what was worse, a large ebon son of 
 Ham, much more resplendent than Isaac ever 
 dreamed of looking, occupied the big hide- 
 buttoned chair in the centre of the room. 
 
 Isaac paused irresolutely on the step, beav 
 er in hand.
 
 14 A PRANK OF HYMEN. 
 
 " I hope I ain't done spiled compn'y," he 
 observed, stiffly. 
 
 "Come in, Brother Isaac, come in," cried 
 Tina, hospitably. " This-sher gen'man was 
 just a-passin' an' drapped in a spell. Come 
 right in an' set down," and she pulled a chair 
 before the door for the entering guest. 
 
 Isaac soon had the field to himself, for the 
 other swain departed. Then Tina proceeded 
 to exert herself for the captivation and enter 
 tainment of her admirer. A table was brought 
 forth and spread with the contents of her 
 basket and a cup of fragrant coffee was soon 
 brewed on the few coals smoldering on the 
 hearth. 
 
 When Isaac had eaten and drank his fill, 
 his heart expanded, and his sudden admira 
 tion for his hostess took definite and serious 
 form. Drawing his chair nearer to her own, 
 he proceeded to unburden himself. 
 
 " Dear, kin' lady, has you any objections 
 to my drawin' my cheer ter your side and re-
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 15 
 
 volvin' de wheel of my conversation 'round 
 de~axle of your understandin' ? " 
 
 " I has no objections to a gen'l'man ad- 
 dressin' me in a proper manner, sah," Tina 
 observed, grandly. 
 
 " Dear, kin' lady, de worl' is a howlin' 
 wilderness of devourin' animals, and you is 
 got ter walk through hit. Has yuh made up 
 your min' ter walk through hit by yourself or 
 wid some bold waryah ? " 
 
 " Kin' sah," she answered, loftily, "ef you 
 thinks you is a good waryah, I will let you 
 pass under my observation from dis day on, 
 an' ef you proves worthy of a confidin' lady's 
 trus' some lady might be glad to accept your 
 purtection, an' that lady might be me." 
 
 This point settled after the formal manner, 
 the two considered themselves engaged, and 
 as both were eager and anxious for a definite 
 settlement no time was lost in arranging the 
 day. 
 
 " I gits fo' dollars a week, an' I kin keep a
 
 l6 A PRANK OF HYMEN. 
 
 wife elegant, an' don't you be afeered," Isaac 
 observed, when talking over the arrange 
 ments, while Tina dilated on her ability as a 
 cook and house woman. 
 
 " I kin cook anything," she asserted, " an' 
 no white folks ain't found fault wid my cook- 
 in' yet." 
 
 As both seemed to be mutually satisfied 
 there was nothing left but to go ahead, and 
 consummate the satisfactory bargain. Cakes 
 were cooked in the kitchen that never came 
 to the light of day on the banker's table and 
 many lucious hams and juicy sirloins were 
 spirited from the pantry without the know 
 ledge of the mistress. 
 
 The feast was spread in the room of one 
 of Tina's friends, the cellar-room in the alley 
 being inadequate to hold the invited guests. 
 And Tina, in her best, surrounded by her 
 friends, awaited the coming of the groom. 
 The ceremony was to be performed by a 
 neighboring magistrate and Tina had the
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 17 
 
 license already in her pocket, Isaac having 
 pleaded a lack of ready change and an un 
 willingness to draw on his employer for the 
 amount. Accordingly Tina had waived the 
 point and herself purchased the necessary 
 document. 
 
 Moments passed and still the groom came 
 not, and the assembled guests began to show 
 signs of impatience and later of anger. Soon 
 there was an audible whisper among the 
 crowd expressive of doubt as to his coming 
 at all. Dissatisfaction had reached its height 
 and there was a bold suggestion that the feast 
 should be enjoyed whether the wedding cere 
 mony was performed or not. While the mistress 
 of ceremonies vainly tried to maintain order, 
 and the prospective bride loudly bewailed 
 the perfidy of man, the groom entered and 
 stood before her. It was the groom, indeed, 
 but not as she expected to behold him. In 
 stead of being clad in wedding finery, as be 
 came the occasion, he still wore the soiled.
 
 1 8 A PRANK OF HYMEN. 
 
 frayed nondescript garments of his workaday 
 world, and tied over all was the tattered, 
 dirty, gunnysack apron. He carried in his 
 hand his leather driving thong, and his face 
 was sullenly solemn as he faced the angry 
 bride-elect. 
 
 " I know you all is here to see me marry 
 dissher 'oman," he said, addressing the crowd, 
 " and twel dis mornin' I aimed toe do dat. 
 But when I got up dis mornin' a good 
 friend of mine come an' 'lowed toe me dat she 
 was a dissipated 'oman, an' warn't no manner 
 account. I ain't gwine to marry no dissipa 
 ted 'oman, 'case if I done had her I'd quit 
 her short off ; before de Lawd, I would ! " 
 
 There was a howl of protest on the part 
 of the women, and ejaculatory comments of 
 approval by the men. Friends of the bride 
 gathered round, endeavoring to persuade the 
 man to alter his decision, considering the 
 feast was spread and the license bought. But 
 he was obdurate, reiterating stubbornly his
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 19 
 
 determination never to marry a dissipated 
 woman. 
 
 And, despite tears, threats and entreaties, 
 laaac made his escape, and, mounting his 
 dray, clattered down the street, a wiser if not 
 a "sadder man, happy in the conscionsness 
 that he had escaped being tied, even for a 
 short while, to "a dissipated 'oman." 
 
 " Cause," he soliloquised, as he went about 
 his work, " if she want whiskey, an' I lak 
 whiskey so good, who gwine buy bacon 'an 
 bread, huh ? Um-huh ! I ain't gwine marry 
 no dissipated 'oman, not if I knows dis nig 
 ger."
 
 Clarissa's 
 
 ^55>jf iLARISSA was ironing. It was a 
 blistering hot day, the thermo 
 meter coquetting somewhere above 
 the hundred point in the deepest 
 shade, but she stood with her back 
 to the roasting fire, smoothing 
 tucks and ruffies and voluminous 
 folds of sheer muslin that we girls would 
 wear a time or two and then cast aside foi 
 this patient black women to toil over in the 
 same way next week. I spoke to her about 
 it one day, but Clarissa did not see it that 
 way. " Law, chile," she said, grinning 
 broadly, "yuh maw done pay meh fur 
 sweatin' over yuh clo'es, an' ef yuh all 
 didn't w'ar 'em I couldn't git de money." 
 20
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 21 
 
 This was Clarissa's view of the case which, 
 I confess, had never occurred to me. But 
 she was a cheerful soul and a willing worker, 
 though she was thin almost to emaciation, 
 her upright, tall figure looking not unlike an 
 exclamation point and her very black, small 
 face, with its thin yet protruding lips, and 
 her restless, black eyes, looking not unlike a 
 species of monkey. Clarissa was fond of 
 vivid colors and her Sunday gown was 
 always very gay, either a crude blue a violent 
 pink or not infrequently a staring yellow, 
 never judiciously mixed with any softening 
 color or combination. Likewise was she 
 opposed to the way the young negresses 
 strove to dress their locks wearing her own 
 kinky hair in the good old way as an 
 example to the rising generation that is, 
 "wropped," as it is familiarly called. A 
 small section of hair is taken in the fingers 
 and bound its length with a smutted cord : 
 another pinch of wool is taken and treated
 
 22 CLARISSAS MAW. 
 
 in the same way, until the whole head is 
 covered at intervals with a sort of trellis 
 work of tightly wrapped hair, and when a 
 negress has not smutted the cord, being in 
 different to her personal appearance, the 
 effect is very curious indeed. 
 
 Clarissa always wore hers " wropped," and 
 as her scalp seemed of a lighter shade of 
 black than her hair or face, the partings 
 between the small sections gave her head 
 a sort of checker-board appearance, add 
 ing much to the unique ugliness of her 
 looks. But in spite of her ugliness we all 
 loved Clarissa. She was a faithful servant 
 in every way. While we were children she 
 was a careful, affectionate nurse, and when 
 we had outgrown her care she stil! remained 
 with us making herself extremely useful and 
 necessary about the house. 
 
 She was full of interesting reminiscence 
 about her white folks, " befo' de wah," and 
 would talk to us girls, telling stories in that
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 23 
 
 affectionately familiar way of the old negro 
 servants who " knowed yo' maw befo' you 
 was horned." 
 
 " Miss Tilda did yuh ever hear 
 
 preach ? " naming a popular revivalist. 
 
 " No Clarissa," I said " I never did." 
 
 Carissa laughed. "Maw she went toe hear 
 4m t'other day, an when she kem home she 
 found Mr. Wash'n't'n drunk, an she jess 
 took a stick an' whop 'im good." 
 
 " Why, Clarissa," I said, in surprise, 
 " your mother does not whip your husband, 
 does she ? " 
 
 Clarissa laughed, twisting herself into 
 many grotesque postures, as though the 
 thought of her husband's being whipped was 
 too excruciatingly funny. 
 
 " He, he, he, ee ! Lawd, yas, dat she do, 
 honey. She do whop 'im. Hit was her dat 
 break 'im f'om gwyne over in de alley ter dat 
 no-count Sally Ann's house." 
 
 Clarissa grew serious when the thought of
 
 24 CLARISSA'S MAW. 
 
 her trouble occurred to her, and she con 
 tinued, all trace of amusement vanishing from 
 her black face : 
 
 " Yuh see, Miss 'Tilda, hit was disser way : 
 I knowed Mr. Wash'n't'n was a gwyne ter 
 see Sally Ann, an'I 'low ter maw, I did : 
 "'Spec he's gwyne quit 'n' go dar all de 
 time. Spec's he an't satisfied, nohow.' 
 
 " Maw she didn't say nuthin', but jess 
 waited, an' when Mr. Wash'n't'n done eat he's 
 supper an' go out, maw she go out, too, an' 
 foller right behind. 
 
 " Mr. Wash'n't'n tracked straight fer de 
 ally as fas' as he could go, an' maw she was 
 right a'ter 'im. 
 
 " Sally Ann had a big fire a-blazin' in de 
 chimbly, an' Wash'n't'n was a-settin' dar lak 
 a coon in a 'simmon tree, a-roastin'an' a-eatin 
 taters, an' Sally Ann she was a-roastin' an' 
 a-eatin', too. 
 
 " Maw she peep fru de keehole an' see dat 
 nigger a-settin dar. She bust in de do', an'
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 25 
 
 pounce on dat Sally Ann, same's a speckled 
 hen on a June bug, an' would yuh b'lieve 
 hit' Miss Tilda, she done wipe up de flo' wid 
 dat yeller gall. But law, hit a'n't done me 
 no good, nohow, if she did do dat ar." 
 
 Clarissa was serious for a few moments, 
 her mind dwelling, no doubt, on her domes 
 tic infelicity ; then her face brightened and 
 she began to laugh again. 
 
 " When de chillun see her whop der 
 paw," she continued, " dey pile on her, an' 
 den she turn roun' an' whop de hull lot. 
 Den leetle Boot she's de baby went 
 behin' maw an' begin ter poun' her leetle 
 fisses she's jess lak maw an' she 'low: 
 ' Yer ol' black nigger, gran'mar ! ' Den maw 
 flew roun' an' kotch, her an' she 'low' : I'll 
 teach yer ter call yer maw's maw black 
 nigger ! ' An' she whop her too. 
 
 " I come in den, an I 'low, I did : ' What's 
 de matter, maw ? Whar's yer bin ?' She 
 'low : ' I'se bin ter year preach.' An' I
 
 26 CLARISSA'S MAW. 
 
 low : ' I doan think hit done yer much good.' 
 
 " Den maw look lak she gwyne whop me, 
 too, an' I make haste ter 'low : What dey 
 sing an' what he preach 'bout ? ' an' maw 
 she 'low : ' He preach 'bout de fiery pit an* 
 dey sing somefin 'bout " Yuh mus' fight if 
 yuh wud reign." ' 
 
 " Wash'n't'n dat stracted w'en he drunk 
 dat he an't got no sorter sence 'tall, an' he 
 'low ter me, he did : 
 
 " ' So de ol' lady ' low she'd come home 
 an' fite de hull fambly ' he-he-he ! 
 
 " Den I went out an' lef dat nigger wid 
 maw, an' I know she give ' im wussen 'Hail 
 Columby,' kase it was two days befo' he kem 
 home a'ter dat, an' w'en he did come in he 
 a'nt had nuthin' ter say ter maw 'tall 'cept 
 ' Yassum' an' ' No'm,' as perlite as kin be. 
 
 " Maw's de onyest one dat can do nuthin' 
 ' tall wid Mister Wash'n't'n, kase when he 
 gits ter goin' on his big doin's maw she 'lows 
 she's gwyne driv' 'im 'way from me an' de
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 27 
 
 chillun ef he don't mind. He's got a hoanin, 
 a'ter de baby, sho' miff, but, Lawd ! hit's 
 his vittles he thinks 'bout most, kase he ant 
 gwyne work. He's mighty skeerd o' maw,' 
 she's got such a orful temper. W'y, even 
 Mars Torm didn't dast ter go agin her in 
 slavery time. 
 
 " To be sho' she didn't whop him a'ter he 
 was growed up, but I dunno but what she 
 would ef she'd a wanted ter. She did cl'ar 
 out a whole house full er white felks onct, an' 
 dey was just skeered ter death o' her. 
 
 " You see, w'en I was a leetle gal 'bout 
 10 year ol' Mars hired me out fer meh vittles 
 an' clo'es ter some white folks dat didn't 
 treat meh right. One day dey sent meh ter 
 tote water frum de spring,' bout a mile ; I 
 was b'ar footed, an' didn't had no bonnet an' 
 was a cryin' kase de missis had done beat 
 me, an I met maw a comin' ter see meh. 
 When I done tole her w'at dey done, she 
 got dat mad dat she tuck a fence rail an'
 
 28 CLARISSA'S MAW. 
 
 druv 'em all outen de house, an' nun ev 'em 
 dassent come in tuel she'd done gone. Maw 
 she got such a orful temper, she is. 
 
 " A'ter my time wus out wid dem folks, 
 Mars Torm kep meh home ter wait on Miss 
 Lucy. She's Mars Torm's wife, an' maw 
 b'longed ter her ennyways, but her temper 
 was so orful dey never kep 'er'ome noways. 
 She was mos' allus hired out- 
 
 " What yer think she says onct whar' she 
 was hired ter cook ? She went in de kitchen 
 an' seed one er dese ol' box-stoves, and she 
 'low: 
 
 " Yuh spect meh ter cook decent vittles 
 on one o' dem ? Whar's yer bilin' water 
 kettle an' yer fry pan ? I a'n't gwyne ter do 
 no cookin' dat's wuth whiles on dat ar. 
 Taint fatten fer po' white trash, let alone 
 'spectable culled pussons,' and maw she jess 
 kept on tuel dey was jess 'bleeged ter git a 
 new stove, kase maw's a elegant cook an' 
 dey all wanted 'er tuel dey jess nachelly got
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 29 
 
 tired ev her temper. One day w'en de mistis 
 axed 'er ef she cud sprinkle clo'es, maw she 
 druv de mistiss outen de kitchen an sez' 'Go 
 long, chile, I done sprinkle cloes befo' yuh 
 was bawn.' Ef yuh lets maw 'lone she's all 
 right, but she won't let nobody tell her 
 nothin', she's got sich a temper. 
 
 " Whop maw ? W'y, she fit so, dar warn't 
 no man dassent touch 'er ; she'd far dey 
 eyes out. 
 
 " Maw, she never had no sich temper 
 'long at fust. She was brung up 'long wid 
 Miss Lucy, an' w'en she was mahred, 'long 
 'fore Miss Lucy, dey give 'er a big weddin', an' 
 she got kinder sot up an' spected ter hab her 
 own way. Well, when Miss Lucy mahred Mars 
 Torm 'yuh know, maw b'longed ter her, an' 
 maw's husband b'longed ter Miss Lucy's 
 brudder, an' he 'ouldn't sell 'im nor 'ouldn't 
 buy maw, tho Miss Lucy said she'd sell maw 
 rather'n part 'em, tho maw didn't lak Miss 
 Lucy's brudder an' wouldn't leave Miss Lucy,
 
 30 CLARISSA'S MAW. 
 
 an' dey couldn't fix it nohow, an' maw never 
 seed her husban' agin. 
 
 " Well, dat mek 'er kind o' sulky, kase she 
 pow'ful fond o' him, an' w'en her chillun was 
 bawn dey was twins an' she jess wouldn't 
 leave 'em ter do nothin' fer nobody 'cept 
 Miss Lucy. She named de leetle gal Lucy, 
 but she couldn't find no name fer de boy. 
 Dey all told her names fer 'im, but nobody 
 dassent say de name o' her husban', kase 
 she hadn't spoke o' 'im onct, an' she wouldn't 
 name 'im after Mars Torm, kase she hated 
 'im fer makin' 'er tak,e anoder husban.' So 
 hit run on' an' bles yuh soul, de chile never 
 was named. He was a right smart boy w'en 
 he was sold. Dey was bofe ev 'em sold. 
 Yuh see, oP mistiss, Mars Torm's mother, 
 was a hard 'oman, an' somehow ruther she 
 took a unlike ter dem chillun, couldn't never 
 b'ar 'em, an' one mawnin' w'en maw were 
 away wid Miss Lucy she done sont fur a 
 trader an' made Mars Torm sell 'em bofe.
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 31 
 
 " Well, yuh just orter see maw w'en she 
 come home an' couldn't find dem chilun ; 
 she rampaged 'roun' same's a wild beas', an' 
 from dat blessed minnit she done hate ol' 
 mistis an' Mars Torm worser'n pizen' an' 
 dat's when her temper riz so orful. 
 
 " Maw she don't talk 'bout 'em,but I know 
 she ain't done forgit, kase if anything crosses 
 her she jess ramps 'roun' an' pears lak she'd 
 go ter kill ennybody. 
 
 " Laws, no, honey, I an't de on'y chillun 
 maw's got. Dar's me an' Limpy an' Dinah 
 an' Sarah Ann an' Wash'n't'n. He was 
 bawn befo' de wah, an' when maw come 
 away from de ol' place she brung 'im wid' er 
 an' sont 'im ter school here. But long 'fore 
 'mancipation, jess as soon as Linkum's sojers 
 begin comin' down, maw quit livin' wid de 
 white folks an' went ter her own cabin an' 
 begin cookin' piles er vittles an' sold 'em ter 
 de sojers an' made lots er money. She'd set 
 de chillun ter watch de big road, an' when
 
 32 CLARISSA'S MAW. 
 
 dey'd see de sojers comin' dey'd run an' tell 
 her an' she'd begin ter cook. W'y, she's 
 baked more'n a hundred pounds er flour in a 
 week, maw have. 
 
 " Lawdy, no, honey, Mars Torm ain't, give 
 her no flour. She done tuk hit. W'y, Mars 
 Torm war'n't dar, an' after de servants 
 runned away Mars Torm went a hidin' in de 
 woods an' dey wasn't anybody up toe de 
 house. Mars Torm lock de doe hese'f an" 
 giv' meh de key, kase he 'low he cud trus' 
 meh wid hit. I was so leetle nobody would 
 'low I had hit. 
 
 " Maw she never know I have hit, kase 
 she hate Mars Torm so she'd give de key ter 
 de sojers, but dey broke in ennyways, dey did. 
 
 " Der come erlong one day some kunnels 
 an' majors an' cap'ens an' knocked at de 
 doe, an' dey low : 'Whar's yer Mars ? ' I 
 sez: 'I dunno' sah,' an' dey 'low: 'Whar's 
 de key toe de house doe ? ' I 'low, ' I dunno 
 sah.' Den day break in de winder an' trapse
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 33 
 
 all over de house. Dey break open de burer 
 drawers scanlous an' tuck de clo'es. Den 
 dey come ter Miss Lucy's room an' dey was 
 a box er letters Mars Torm done writ ter her 
 when dey was a-co'tin, an' dey spill 'em out 
 on de flo' an' I bus' out cryin', kase I know 
 Mars Torm t'ink mo' er dem letters 'n enny- 
 thing he got, kase Miss Lucy done daid. 
 One er dem kunnels he 'lowed ter meh : 
 'Who's Miss Lucy ; ' an' I 'low : < She's 
 Mars Term's wife an' she done daid,' an' he 
 'low ter de yethers: 'Let 'em 'lone, boys.' 
 
 " Bimeby he axed meh 'gin : ' Wha's Mars 
 Torm at ? ' an' I 'low : I dunno' sah' but I 
 did, jest de same' kase I used ter tote 'im 
 vittles when I could steal enny. 
 
 " Maw kotched meh one day an' she 'low : 
 ' Wha' ye gwyne wid dem vittles ? ' an' I 
 say : ' Bar's an' ol' sow down in de woods 
 wid pegs an' I gwyne feed 'er.' So she 'low : 
 1 1 go 'long bimeby an' driv' er up.' I tells 
 yer, I was skeered when she say dat an'
 
 34 CLARISSA'S MAW. 
 
 when I done tole Mars Torm he 'low : ' She 
 can't fin meh, kase I got a place ter hide 
 whar she doan'know. 'Doan yuhbe skeered .' 
 
 " But I was skeered, all de same, an' I 
 took a light'ood knot an' rooted up de pine 
 needles same's a peeg 'ud do, an' sho' 'nuff 
 maw went ter hunt de ol' sow an' fin 'er, but 
 dar warn't no sow dar 'tall. 
 
 " Lawd, yas 'honey, she'd a tole on Mars 
 Torm ef she'd a-seed 'im, kase she hated 'im 
 wusser'n pizen> an' she got sich a orful 
 temper ter boot an' a'nt never got over 'im 
 a-sellin' of her chillun 'lak he done." 
 
 Clarissa finished the last garment, carefuly 
 hanging it up to air, and presently I heard 
 her in the kitchen among the pots and pans 
 putting things to rights. It was plain that 
 no portion of her maw's " orful temper " had 
 descended to Clarissa, for now she was sing 
 ing a plantation melody to please the younger 
 children, just as an hour ago she had recalled 
 incidents of " befo' de war," to beguile our 
 curiosity :
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 35 
 
 " De raccoon climb a mighty high tree, 
 An' laff w'en he hears' de nigger call, 
 But he shet his mouf w'en de tree cut down, 
 Hit's pride dat goes befo' a fall." 
 
 Dear humble, patient, affectionate, cheer 
 ful Clarissa ! She might have her trials, her 
 "up an' downs," with Mr. "Wash'n't'n" and 
 " maw," but she was safe from the trials that 
 accompany vanity and the pride that goes 
 before a fall.
 
 'Cbc Revolt of Hrnos, 
 
 * 
 
 INC' AMOS and Mammy Caroline 
 are an old-time couple, the like of 
 whom are fast disappearing, leav 
 ing no fellows to take their place. 
 Married after the orthodox fash 
 ion long before "de wah," they 
 have seen three generations of their 
 "white folks," and Ca'line has "nussed and 
 cooked " for each of them faithfully in turn. 
 Her proportions are as ample as those of 
 Amos are spare, and she ruled the little old 
 man rigidly until the fatal day of the acci 
 dent to the pot, when her sway was forever 
 ended. A fellow servant tells the story of 
 Unc' Amos' emancipation, though Ca'line 
 herself is religiously silent on the subject and 
 36
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 37 
 
 nothing will anger her quicker or call forth 
 a stronger expression of her opinion of a 
 person than to ask her the story of how she 
 got"hitched " and how Unc' Amos "whopp 
 ed " her. 
 
 " Go 'long, chile," she is wont to answer. 
 " Amos an't never done whop dis chile, I'se a 
 'ooman myse'f, an' no onnery dried up nig 
 ger is big 'nuff' toe whoop Ca'line." Then she 
 adds, with all the scorn of one of her race for 
 another ; " Some niggers know mo' dan dey 
 pra'rs, an' is allus a sayin' hit. Whop who ? 
 Bress de Laur' I an't nebber seed de day." 
 
 " Ca'line allus wus a biggoty nigger. I 
 knowed 'er when she wus a gal at the big 
 house nussin' de white floks chillun, an' after 
 'mancipation she took up wid Unc' Amos an' 
 went to lib in dat same cabin in de holler. 
 
 " Amos wus allus a po' sickly, leetle nigger, 
 not very peart at no time, an' Ca'line she 
 had ev'ything jess like she wanted hit. 
 
 " She jess boss' Brer Amos 'roun' same's
 
 38 THE REVOLT OF AMOS. 
 
 he'd bin a chillun, a talkin' all de time 'bout 
 her white folks. 
 
 " Bimeby Brer Amos he done git tired er 
 Ca'line's foolisness, an' say he 'gwine ter 
 quit an' put her down, an' git him a 'ooman 
 what an't got so much biggotty dat he 
 can't whop 'er when he sorter jes' nachelly 
 feel like hit, 'stead 'o bein' whopped hese'f 
 when Mammy Ca'line feel like whoppin 
 o' him.' 
 
 " Some er dem no 'count niggers what's 
 allus a totin' er tales done took an' tole Mam 
 Ca'line Brer Amos say he gwine to quit, but 
 Mam Ca'line she an't say nuthin' yit. 
 
 "Amos he wait twel he see what Ca'line she 
 gwine do when she done hear 'bout his fool 
 ishness 'er quittin', but Ca'line she not let on 
 lak she know, an' sabe dem taters an' hom'ny 
 an' scraps fer ol' Amos jess lak she allus do. 
 But Amos he shore nuff means ter quit an' 
 take up wid Sally Ann what nusses fer 
 Amoses' young missus.
 
 SOUTHERN" ECHOES. 39 
 
 " Dat ar done show Amos was a fool 
 nigger' kase no nuss gal gwine feed 'im lak 
 Ca'line feed 'im all he's life. Sally Ann, she 
 a peart, lively gall, an' what she gwine do 
 wid po', finiky leetle nigger lak Amos ? But 
 Mammy Ca'line she done whop Sally Ann 
 'fore all de folks ter prar meetin', an' Sally 
 Ann, she bound ter git eben, so when de 
 white folks done had heap er comp'ny come, 
 an Ca'line she deep down 'mong de pots a 
 cookin' an' a stwin* fer 'em ter eat, Sally 
 Ann she sent Amos ter dey cabin yonder, 
 an' dey toted off all er Mam Ca'line's truck. 
 
 " Dey toted de bade (bed) an' de kiver 
 ter hit, and de cheers, an' Sally Ann she 
 toted Ca'line's Sunday frock what she wears 
 ter prar meetin', and dat white coat what 
 Ca'line love ter swich 'bout 'mong de culled 
 folks what an't got none. 
 
 " Arter Mam Ca'line wus done a-brilin' an' 
 a-stewin' fer de white folks, she tie up her 
 frock an' tuck tro' de co'n patch ter Sally
 
 40 THE REVOLT OF AMOS. 
 
 Ann's house. Dar wus a big fire a-blazin' in 
 de chimbly, an' ol' Amos he wuz a-settin' dar 
 lak a 'coon in' a simmon tree, a-roastin' an' 
 a-eatin' taters, an' Sally she dar, a-roastin' 
 an' eatin', too. 
 
 " Mammy Ca'line she wait an' listen, an' 
 peep froo a crack in de doo, an 'bimeby 
 Sally Ann she low: 
 
 " ' Roas' taters aint sich good eaten lak 
 yo's bin used ter, Unc' Amos. White folks 
 vittles eats heap better 'n .what niggers 
 has. Specs yo' done be gwine back ter ol' 
 Ca'line 'fo' long.' 
 
 " ' Who gwine back ? Yo' is talkin' foolish 
 ness, gal. Specs I done keer for good eatin 
 longside a peart, purty gal like yo' is ? 
 Um ,um, honey ! Ca'line '11 done have to git 
 toofs lak yo's got, an' all dat purty ha'r moss 
 lak white jfolkses fo' ol' Amos he go back. 
 Bress de lam, chile, Ca'line ol' scarecrow 
 'longside a purty gal lak you is.' 
 
 " Sally Ann, she look at Unc' Amos an'
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 41 
 
 - 
 
 laff. Den she laff some mo' and pop ol' 
 Amos on de jaw. She pop 'im right smart 
 hard twell Amos he mos' tink Mam' Ca'line 
 done got him. 
 
 " Ca'line a peepin' froo de keyhole done 
 hear what ol' Amos say, an* done see Sally 
 Ann slap he jaw. Den Ca'line she bust in 
 de doo' an' low ter ol' Amos ; 
 
 " ' Yo' good-fur-nothin', onnery leetle 
 nigger who is yo' callin' scarecrow, anyhow ?' 
 Den she pounce on Sally Ann same's a speck 
 led hen on a June bug, an', gen'emen, she 
 done wipe up de floo wid dat yeller gal. 
 
 " Ol' Amos he sot in de cornder a lookin' 
 lak a rabbit in a tater bank, an when Ca'line 
 she done turn Sally Ann loose ol' Amos he 
 low : 
 
 " ' We wuz a funnin,' Ca'line ! ' Fore Gawd 
 we wuz ! ' 
 
 " Mammy Ca'line she jess took dat leetle 
 nigger under one arm an' dat bade kiver an' 
 frock under tother, an' toted em' back ter dat
 
 42 THE REVOLT OF AMOS. 
 
 same cabin in de holler, an' sot him down, 
 an' oP Amos he bin dar since, an' never did 
 talk no mo' foolishness 'bout quittin' no mo' ! 
 
 " Ca'line she wuz mo' biggoty 'n ever, an' 
 whop Amos mos' ev'y day, but one day Amos 
 he whop Ca'line, an' he took an' whop all de 
 biggoty outen 'er 
 
 " Amoses ol' miss, she done give he a pot 
 an' Amos he think mighty heap er dat same 
 pot an' put hit 'in de tater house an' tell 
 Ca'line ter quit foolin' wit hit, kase she done 
 brek hit 'fore she knowed. Den Amos he 
 went ter de branch ter lay fer a big buck rab 
 bit what wuz trackin' bout in de mud, an' 
 Ca'line she tuk de pot an' 'low she gwine ter 
 make soap fer ter scour an' wash an' sell fer 
 ter git 'backer fer shese'f an' Amos. Dey 
 wuz hoodoo on dat pot sho's yo' bawn, chile, 
 kase soon's Ca'line take hit outen de tater 
 hole hit jes' fall an' gen-tle-men ! hit jes' bust 
 right wide open ! 
 
 " OP Amos he an't seed no buck rabbit at
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 43 
 
 de branch an' kern 'long back, an' when Mam 
 Ca'line seed him a comin' she jess broke an' 
 run, an' 'low she hide me 'neath de bade. 
 
 " Ca'line she most big az de bade heres'f, 
 an' when she git ' most under she hitched, 
 an' Amos he kotch 'er. De Lord he tole 
 Amos dis sher's de time ter whop Ca'line lak 
 she never did be whopped befo', an' gen-tle- 
 men, he jess done hit ! He whopped 'er an' 
 whopped 'er twel she jess preach' ! an' 
 beg dat leetle finiky nigger lak a dog ter quit 
 beaten' 'er an' HP up de dade. Bimeby 
 Amos he quit an' HP up de bade, an' Mam 
 Ca'line she back out, but Ca'line she didn't 
 want ter set down. Ca'line she never set 
 down in prar meetin' dat week, ner she a'n't 
 never whopped oF Amos lak she used' no
 
 Tobif 9 Call. 
 mnrv 
 
 r HOSE who knew Tobit best enter 
 tained the worst opinion of him. 
 He was a dignified old negro with 
 a halo-like brush of snow white 
 hair, and eyes very like those of 
 a little King Charles spaniel. 
 He gained a precarious living by doing odd 
 jobs for different families and paying court 
 to the cooks in the neighborhood. 
 
 Yet Tobit was much liked for he was very 
 obliging. Indeed, so obliging was he that a 
 new comer in the neighborhood, having ex 
 pressed a desire for a number of buff Cochin 
 hens, Tobit trudged a matter of seven miles 
 in the still small hours of a very dark and 
 frosty night, to a henhouse upon a man's 
 
 44
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 45 
 
 farm where he knew the buff beauties could 
 be had for the bagging. Nobody but Tobit 
 would think of warming the edge of a board 
 before insinuating it beneath the breast of 
 a sleepy fowl, so that they would step thereon 
 and be brought more readily to the bog. 
 
 Tobit was also a Christian, believing sin 
 cerely in the efficiency of praise and prayer, 
 especially the latter, for when the day's work 
 was done and his wife had kindled a fire in the 
 cabin hearth, the old man would take his much 
 thummed Bible, and pressing his grand 
 daughter into service, would make her spell 
 over and over his favorite verses always 
 those which spoke of giving. 
 
 " Ask and it shall be given unto thee " 
 made a profound impression on his mind, 
 and long after Melissa had closed the book 
 and slipped away to play among the growing 
 corn, he sat pondering the words : " Ax an' 
 hit shall be given untoe yuh.' Ax ! De Lawd 
 lows yuh mus' ax, an' dat's what I gwyne do."
 
 46 TOBIT'S CALL. 
 
 And ask he did ; so continuously, persis 
 tently, and to the neglect of other duties, 
 until at last his wife grew tired of his noisy 
 and wordy petitions, especially as there was 
 no tangible result. 
 
 Meeting the deacon of his church in the 
 road one day, Tobit adressed him on the 
 subject nearest his heart, and the following 
 conversation ensued : 
 
 " Br'er 'Lias, does yuh b'lieb in de scri' 
 tur' ? " 
 
 Brother 'Lias answered readily : "Dat I 
 do' praise de Lawd ! " 
 
 " Does yuh b'lieb de par'bles ? " anxiously 
 asked Tobit. 
 
 " Dat I do. Ev'y word o' dem par'bles 
 am fact, sho nuff. Gospel troof, yuh know, 
 Br'er Tobit." 
 
 The deacon's decision satisfied Tobit, who 
 became even more devout than ever, praying 
 with redoubled fervor and increased unction, 
 and with the augmentation of his religious
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 47 
 
 zeal the old man's taste for manual labor 
 lessened, thus his wife and children were 
 left to work their own wills among the cotton 
 rows and potato hills of his once prized 
 "crap." 
 
 Martha, his wife, remonstrated, at first 
 very midly, for she was a peacable woman, 
 and her objections were met with a quotation 
 from scriptures which silenced her for the 
 time being. 
 
 Tobit continued his nightly petitions, his 
 tones growing louder and more earnest, 
 until they reached the ears of the white 
 people at the big house. The work among 
 the crops was getting heavy. There was 
 much hoeing and plowing to be done and 
 Martha who was an industrious soul, looked 
 on Tobit's spending so much time in religious 
 exercise, as a " mess of pint blank foolish 
 ness," especially as the time was necessary 
 to the welfare of the crops. 
 
 Martha was a large woman, twice Tobit's
 
 48 TOBIT'S CALL. 
 
 size, who was a little finicky nigger, crippled 
 with the hardships of many winters, and one 
 day the woman shouldered her hoe, march 
 ing homeward, intending to have it out once 
 and for all with the little old man. 
 
 Tobit was sitting in his hide-bottomed 
 chair before the cabin, tilted backward at a 
 comfortable angle, his open hymn book on 
 his knee, while he luxuriously dozed the 
 sunny hours away. Martha came around 
 the corner of the cabin, and taking in the 
 situation at a glance gave free vent to her 
 long restrained anger and disapproval 
 
 " Dar yuh sets," she observed, pointing a 
 long finger at the old man, " a-foolin' an' a- 
 momickin de time what yer orter spen' in de 
 fiel, ' an what it gwyne git yer ? Who yer 'low 
 gwyne dig an' plow while you is preachin' an' 
 a gwyne on ? Mebbe," jeerinigly, " yuh spects 
 de Lawd gwyne done sen' taters a-ready 
 growed an' dug fer yuh ter eat when defrost 
 done come. But ef yuh does spec dat,"
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 49 
 
 and she came nearer, emphasizing her words 
 with many shakes of her long, black ringer, 
 " yuh is a plumb bawn fool, an is done gone 
 clean 'stracted entirely ! " 
 
 "De Lawd'll pervide," observed Tobit 
 serenely, but at the same time edging away 
 from the menacing hand of his better half. 
 " De good book done say, 'ax an' yuh will 
 git,' but yuh is one er dem widout de light. 
 Pray, 'ooman, pray ! " 
 
 Martha, realizing her helplessness before 
 such argument, carried her case to the young 
 master. 
 
 " Taint no soter use, mars David, he jess 
 won't work ! He done turn plumb bawn 
 fool bout dat prayin,' an 'de grass a-takin de 
 taters an' de goobers. He 'low," she said 
 scornfully, as though Tobit's assertion was 
 simply a qualification for the mad house. 
 " He low he gwyne pray for taters, plumb 
 raised and done dug lak dem in yuh paw's 
 tater house, an' dat de Lawd gwyne send em'
 
 50 TOBIT'S CALL. 
 
 sho," and Martha curled her wide lips over 
 her toothless gums in supreme disdain, yet 
 anxiously reading her young master's face 
 the while. 
 
 " Perhaps Tobit has that faith, Martha," 
 the young man answered mildly, "but I'm 
 going to see what I can do to persuade him 
 to help you with the crop, just the same. Its 
 a shame to make you do all the work." 
 
 There was a world of trouble in the black 
 woman's soft eyes as she departed, for she 
 felt that her young master had not entirely 
 sympathized with her, and could she have 
 seen the amused smile that dawned upon his 
 visage when her back was turned, she would 
 have been even more unhappy. 
 
 At an early hour, Martha, wearied with 
 her labor, retired to rest in her corner of the 
 cabin, while the children lay sleeping as they 
 happened to fall while eating the dodgers 
 that were their portion of supper. 
 
 Tobit thrust a lightwood knot among the
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 51 
 
 embers and by the flickering rays of its flames 
 began his orisons. Melissa, the child who 
 spelled the scripture over for him, lay asleep 
 upon the floor, but his favorite passages 
 were familiar enough to quote after some 
 fashion and that satisfied the old man. He 
 gave himself the text, verse and chapter, and 
 began to preach and pray, and while he 
 prayed an idea occurred to him. He would 
 pray for potatoes, and perhaps things would 
 happen so that the tubers would be forth 
 coming and Martha's objections to his mode 
 of life be forever silenced. Perhaps Tobit 
 had his own idea as to where the potatoes 
 were to come from when he lifted up such a 
 fervent appeal for their appearance, though 
 what followed, happened without his knowl 
 edge or connivance. 
 
 Setting on the hearth among the pots and 
 pans was a pocelain plate a gift from Tobit's 
 mistress and one that he very much prized, 
 and as Tobit uttered his appeal for the tubers
 
 52 TOBIT'S CALL. 
 
 a most surprising thing to liim occurred. 
 A yam, very large and round came thumping 
 down the chimney, falling among the coals 
 and making the ashes fly, then another and 
 another, until a perfect rain of potatoes 
 poured down, shattering the prized plate and 
 extinguishing the flare of his torch. 
 
 The old fellow fell back upon his haunches, 
 his eyes bulging and his mouth agape, watch 
 ing in speechless awe the answer to his peti 
 tion, until the last yam had fallen with a 
 dull thud upon his hearth, then with trembl 
 ing hands he rekindled a blaze, and gazing 
 awe-struck upon the visions of his cherished 
 plate, he said : 
 
 " Oh Mars Lawd, dissher ol' nigger mighty 
 proud yuh done listen ter he pray'r, but at 
 de same spechul time, good Lawd, yuh need 
 n't a-bruck ol' misses' chana plate. Amen." 
 
 The news of the falling of the yams spread 
 like wildfire, and numerous calls came to 
 Tobit to preach at revivals and camp meet-
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 53 
 
 ings, while preparations for his ordination 
 were being made. 
 
 Martha was meekly silent but the glance 
 she cast at her young master in passing, told 
 as plainly as words that she had her own 
 opinion as to where the yams had come 
 from. 
 
 At last Tobit went before the board of 
 examination and was duly qualified to preach. 
 He answered all questions satisfactorily, 
 and much impressed the board when answer 
 ing one put by Deacon 'Liar Gibbs. 
 
 " Br'er Tobit is yer got ter whar yuh beliebe 
 in de par'bles yit ? 
 
 " Ev'y blessed par'ble, bless Gawd ! " 
 
 "Does yuh know any er dem well nuff ter 
 repeat ? " 
 
 " Dat I does, I knows 'em all, but dat one 
 bout Pothipar an' Jezebal is de truest an' 
 mos' pow'ful one er all. Hit goes dis-away. 
 Yuh see Pothipar was a-ridin' down in his 
 charyit f'um Jerusalem into Jericho. He
 
 54 TOBIT'S CALL. 
 
 druv long lil belt w'en 'long kem Jezebal, 
 She say : 'W'ite man, gimme a ride,' an' he 
 done took her up behin' 'im in his charyit. 
 An' dee went 'long lil furder an 1 dee fell 
 'mong t'ieves. An' dee 'low : ' Frow down s 
 Jezebal ! ' 
 
 " An Pothipar he 'low : 'Let 'im among 
 yuh widout sin cas' de fus stone,' but dee 
 'low all de louder 'Frow down Jezabal ! ' 
 An den Pothipar frew down Jezabal, but 
 dem no-count white trash warn't satisfied an 
 keep a yellin,' 'Frow down Jezabal ! ' An den 
 he frew her down seven times but dem white 
 t'ieves was dat pizen mean dat dee warn't 
 satisfied nohow an' kep a yellin ' Frow down 
 Jezabal,' an den Pothipar he fow down dat 
 'ooman sebenty times seben, an' of dem 
 remains dee gadered up seven basketfuls."
 
 H Game of Craps, 
 vwww 
 
 KDME seben, come leben ! " 
 The low monotone of negro 
 voices accompanied the steady 
 click of the dice, as first one 
 man shook and rolled them, and 
 then his opponent tried his luck 
 with the contrary little ivories. 
 
 It was a closely contested crap game 
 between " slew foot Jake " and a new hand 
 on the docks who had worked his way up the 
 river from the rice wharves. 
 
 Early in the day Jake met the new hand 
 and thinking that possibly he was a fresh 
 coon to be singed, inveigled him into a' 
 friendly game of craps. Jake was the 
 champion crap player among the many light 
 
 55
 
 56 A GAME OF CRAPS. 
 
 fingered gentry who made the cotton wharves 
 their stamping ground, and very few escaped 
 him without being plucked. 
 
 During the first hour or so very little 
 silver changed hands. The gamin' and river 
 rats began to jeer and sing, tired of the 
 monotony of the proceedings, 
 
 " Shoot yer Craps an' have yer fun 
 Befo" yer see de copper come." 
 
 But Jake and the new " hand " kept 
 steadily shaking and scattering the cubes 
 and the small handful of change grew slowly 
 into what seemed to Jake a stake worth play 
 ing for. 
 
 It was growing dark here among the walls 
 of high piled cotton bales, and the game con 
 tinued in favor of the stranger darkey, who 
 signified his intention of soon "gwyne back 
 down de ribber," but Jake vetoed the move 
 ment. 
 
 " Yo' is done had de game all yo' way 
 'cause I let yo,' " he said easily, " now I'm
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 57 
 
 gwyne show yo' how ter shoot craps," Jake 
 shambled about and pulled from between the 
 cotten bales a few lightwood knots, and 
 with a little cotton lint soon started a bright 
 blaze. Then he produced a little more silver, 
 spread it on the ground between them and 
 began to rattle the dice vigorously. 
 
 " Hold on dar! Hold on dar, Mr. Jake !" 
 And taking the cubes in his hands the 
 stranger negro weighed them critically, 
 tossing them to an fro in his horny palms, 
 and then dropping them back separately into 
 the box. 
 
 " Dat's lak yo' low country nigger," sneered 
 Jake disdainfully " yo, specs I not gwyne tote 
 fair, so I gwyne watch you, I is." 
 
 It was quite dark now, the idlers who had 
 stood about earlier in the game drifted away 
 and at last the two gamblers found them 
 selves quite alone. The fitful flames from the 
 blazing pine knots flickered before them, 
 throwing their grotesque silhouettes against
 
 58 A GAME OF CRAPS. 
 
 the piled cotton. The river patrol passed 
 them, parading slowly, arm in arm, and the 
 dice were quickly whisked out of sight only 
 to be brought forth again when they were 
 left a safe distance behind. 
 
 The night wore on and the gamblers 
 seemed as eager to continue as they had been 
 earlier in the evening. Finally the hands on 
 the great fiery eye of the town clock pointed 
 to the hour of midnight, and the familar sounds 
 along the river front began to die away, the 
 stragglers wh,o made their living by the 
 traffic among the boat hands had long since 
 disappeared, and the roustabouts were all 
 sleeping, coiled up in nooks and crannies 
 among the fright or lying supine on top of 
 the cotton piled on the wharves or on the 
 decks of their dingy little river tugs. 
 
 It was not until now that the game began 
 in earnest for Jake, for now he reached into 
 the pocket of his baggy, tattered trousers and 
 brought forth some silver coin, a dirty paper
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 59 
 
 bill or two, and from another pocket in the 
 nondescript garment that did duty for a coat, a 
 quart gourd of whisky was produced. Taking 
 a long pull at the latter he spread the money 
 on the ground, handed the gourd to his com 
 panion, then he waited, eyeing his antagonist 
 sharply. 
 
 The stranger negro sampled the whisky 
 generously, then as if not to be outdone by 
 Jake in the matter of anteing, he too reached 
 into his pocket and from its depths fished 
 up a small bag, from which he took two 
 gold pieces of five dollars each, and rubbing 
 them upon the leg of his trousers until they 
 glittered brightly, laid them beside his oppon 
 ent's less handsome pile. 
 
 Jake's little oily reddish eyes glittered as 
 he rolled them on the stranger darkey. He had 
 never seen such an amount of the evil root 
 at a river side crap game before, and there 
 was a note of keen suspicion in his husky 
 question : " Whar yo git em ? "
 
 60 A GAME OF CRAPS. 
 
 " Hit meks no difFence whar I git em," 
 the other replied stolidly, " Dar dey is." 
 
 Jake could not dispute this self evident 
 fact so taking up the dice he began to shake, 
 muffling the rattle of the cubes in his big fist. 
 Luck seemed to have deserted Jake for he 
 lost steadily though he played carefully and 
 brought into use several skilful tricks. 
 
 The gourd of corn liquor circulated freely 
 between them and both men were well under 
 the influence of the rank popskull when they 
 agreed that the next successful throw should 
 decide the game finally. It was the darkest 
 hour of the night, just when the stars seemed 
 to have burned out and dropped one by one 
 from the inky pall of the sky, and before the 
 first faint, intangible streaks of mist begin to 
 herald the coming of the saffron grey that 
 foretells the birth of dawn. There was no 
 sound save the measured footfalls of the 
 patrol as he sauntered past, glancing care 
 lessly at the two men, apparently boat hands
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 6 1 
 
 dozing the night away around a scant light- 
 wood fire. 
 
 It was the stranger negro's throw. Jake 
 reached out and put the ends of the charred 
 sticks closer together, blowing them with 
 his breath into a feeble flame, reserving a 
 small knotty piece which he twisted nervously 
 in his hands. 
 
 The stranger negro shook the dice and 
 scattered them, throwing the best hand of the 
 whole evening, he leaned over counting the 
 throw, and when about to gather up the 
 stake, as quick as thought, Jake's hand flew 
 out, there was a subdued crash, sudden yet 
 decisive, and the stranger negro fell with a 
 thud, face downward upon the stakes. 
 
 It was only a moment till Jake had posses- 
 ion of the money together with the bag from 
 which the man had taken it, then carefully 
 stamping out the remnant of the fire he 
 started on a swift, noiseless run through the 
 avenues of cotton bales.
 
 62 A GAME OF CRAPS. 
 
 When day broke Jake had left the city far 
 behind and was skulking along the country 
 road in the shadows of hedge and thicket, 
 and when the sun arose high enough to dispel 
 the mist, making objects visible at a great 
 distance on the straight silvery road, he crept 
 into the fastness of a dry swamp and slept 
 until night fell and he could resume his 
 stealthy journey. 
 
 Coming to a small rustic footbridge that 
 spanned a rippling creek across the road, he 
 stopped to slake his thirst getting down on 
 his knees to dip his lips into the stream after 
 the manner of four footed animals. When he 
 had slaked his thirst and sat gazing about, a 
 small black girl came around the bend in the 
 road. She carried a small rush basket on 
 her head and a bright tin pail in one hand. 
 Slew foot Jake approached her as she came 
 up, asking roughly : " What yo' got in yo' 
 bucket gall ? " 
 
 The girl hung back as though afraid to
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 63 
 
 answer and the man repeated his question 
 with a significant movement of the gnarled 
 stick he had cut in the hedge. 
 
 " Break'fas,' sah," she mumbled, trem 
 blingly. 
 
 " Break'fas' ? Dat's jess what I's lookin' 
 fer," he declared. " Fotch hit here,"author- 
 itively. 
 
 " Hit's paw's ! " with a faint intonation of 
 frightened unwillingness. Jake made an 
 other gesture with the stick, and the girl 
 yielded up the pail and basket without more 
 ado. The hot corn pone and fried bacon 
 strips were eagerly devoured, and washed 
 down with the draught of molasses and 
 water the pail contained, then Jake set out 
 briskly, his big splay feet making ugly 
 tracks in the soft moist sand of the road. 
 
 More than a year had passed, and the 
 story of a negro being found murdered 
 among the cotton bales on the river front
 
 64 A GAME OF CRAPS. 
 
 was forgotten. However the facts of the case 
 were chronicled in the records of police head 
 quarters and for a week or so, a sharp look 
 out had been kept for the suspected murderer. 
 No information could be gathered as to Jake's 
 whereabouts, he having disappeared com 
 pletely. 
 
 One warm morning the chief of the force 
 sat in his office, smoking and imbibing occas 
 ional draughts of a cooling liquid. He did 
 not feel particularly like arousing himself to 
 any great exertion that morning, and it was 
 in no very amiable mood that he answered 
 the humble salute of a big negro who sham 
 bled in and stood patiently beside the desk. 
 
 "Well what do you want ? " the chief de 
 manded gruffly 
 
 ' I want's ter tell de boss er de police a 
 story, sah." 
 
 " Well tell it." The man twirled his old 
 battered hat and shuffled his feet nervously 
 on the floor, " Is yo' de boss ? " he enquired 
 politely.
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 65 
 
 " Um-hum ! " the chief drawled indiffer 
 ently. 
 
 "Well, boss, sah," he began hesitatingly, 
 I spects yo'all is been lookin' fer a nigger 
 named slew foot Jake what knocked anoder 
 nigger in de haid wid a light'ood knot last 
 shippin' time ? " The chief nodded. 
 
 " Dat's me, sah," declared the negro 
 modestly. " I done tap 'im in de haid, took 
 he's money an' lit out." 
 
 " The chief took his feet from the desk, 
 got up leisurely and placed himself between 
 the negro and the door. " What did you kill 
 him for ? " he asked lazily. 
 
 " Hit was disser way, boss," the negro an 
 swered with the air of one telling a simple 
 truth. " I was a gwyne ter see a gall down 
 in Pepp'mint alley. She done had a man an' 
 she 'low she not gwyne quit him lessen she 
 git one dat git her gol' year-bobs. I beg'er 
 an' beg'er but 'tan't no manner er use, she 
 won't quit Pete lessen she git dem gold year-
 
 66 A GAME OF CRAPS. 
 
 bobs, she 'lows dey mus' be goF too, an' no 
 foolishness. VVhar I gwyne git 'em ? " he 
 asked pathetically, spreading out both hands, 
 empty palms upward. " Den dat nigger 
 come 'long wid money in a bag. We-all 
 shook craps an' he tek mine an' hissen too. 
 Den I taps him wid de light'ood knot an' 
 bust his haid, jess so." 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 "Massah, boss ! Den I an't thinkin' bout no 
 gall in Pep'mint alley. I jess furgit all 'bout 
 her an' walk plumb out in de rice fields. I 
 done tek a 'ooman out dar what don't know 
 nothin' 'tall bout such foolishness, but de 
 speerit er dat-'ar nigger what I done bust in 
 de haid won't let me res'. Every blessed 
 night he come. I move away from dat place 
 down ter 'tother side de swamp, but tain't 
 no manner er use. When night come I set 
 dar an' jess wait, an, sho nuff, yere he come. 
 He tap at de shutter an he tap at de doo,' an' 
 when de fire go out he set on de hath wid
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 67 
 
 he's foots shufflein' in de chimbly. I got dat 
 niggar what work's wid de conjur ter put he's 
 spell on de house, but dat speerit ant notice 
 de spell 'tall. Dat speerit jess driv me, 
 boss. I jess had ter come back an' tell all 
 about hit. 
 
 Jake stood fumbling his old remnant of a 
 hay-maker's hat, all animation having depart 
 ed, leaving his fierce black countenance a list' 
 less blank. 
 
 He had told his story and had nothing 
 more to say. The chief continued to smoke 
 but made no comment, he stepped to the 
 door and pressed a button softly, still keep 
 ing a vigilant, torpid eye upon the negro. 
 
 Now Jake fills a place on the county gang 
 and the spirit of his victim haunts him no 
 longer.
 
 'Ccmpc's Venture. 
 
 WWW 
 
 r EMPE had a scheme in her mind. 
 It seemed to her a very brilliant 
 scheme indeed, and one that 
 could be worked as easy as falling 
 off a log. 
 
 The next week would be court 
 week in the town, and everybody, black and 
 white, in the county would be about the 
 court house, every day and all day, during 
 that week. Croppers would take the oppor 
 tunity to come in with part of their crop to 
 enjoy the annual holiday on the proceeds, 
 consequently money would be plenty and 
 Tempe thought she might as well secure a 
 little of it while it was going. 
 
 Of course Tempe had no money to begin 
 
 68
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 69 
 
 with. A woman who has had fifteen children 
 and " brung em all up " to the age of indis 
 cretion, is not very apt to be burdened with 
 very much spare cash, so very naturally 
 Tempe turned to her young mistress in her 
 difficulty. 
 
 Miss Ella was sorting her week's laundry 
 in the back piazza when the old woman came 
 in at the side gate and hobbled across the 
 yard ; seating herself on the topmost step, 
 with many rheumatic grunts and groans, 
 Tempe began to open the way to her enter 
 prise. " Miss Ella honey," she said insinu 
 atingly, " you never is failed me yit, is yer? " 
 
 Miss Ella looked up from counting her 
 towels, a little puzzled. " No, Tempe, I 
 believe not," she said, "what do you want 
 now ? " 
 
 Then the old creature unfolded the palm 
 which seemed to her such a good one. Next 
 week would be court week in town as Miss 
 Ella knew. There would be swarms of hun-
 
 70 TEMPE'S VENTURE. 
 
 gry people on the streets, and Tempe pro 
 posed, with Miss Ella's help to feed the 
 hungry with profit to herself. Would Miss 
 Ella get her a permit to put her stand on the 
 bit of sward before the court-house gate and 
 give her sufficient to begin with, waiting for 
 her pay until Tempe should realize it from 
 the sale of the food ? 
 
 At first Miss Ella was doubtful, the permit 
 could be easily arranged, as the mayor of the 
 village claimed kin with the young woman, 
 but the food was another matter. One does 
 not empty one's larder on first request and 
 without due consideration, especially when 
 one is a dweller in that meagre borderland 
 known as genteel poverty. But Tempe pleaded 
 so earnestly that her young mistress could not 
 but yield, " I'll pay yer back for dem pervis- 
 ions, chile," she said. " I will if Gawd 
 spares me," and so the required rations were 
 forth coming without more delay. 
 
 All day Tempe hobbled about the kitchen
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. J I 
 
 getting ready for her appearance before the 
 public. She was a first class cook and the 
 work she turned out lacked nothing in ap 
 pearance or quality. Bushels of golden brown 
 biscuit, crisp and sweet, a large home cured 
 ham boiled to a turn, a pile of crullers deli 
 cious to taste and smell. Many fat pullets 
 were sacrificed and the remains fried to that 
 perfection that never fails to tempt a south 
 ern appetite. 
 
 Tempe's display looked very appetizing 
 when placed to best advantage next day. In 
 deed, she made a brilliant spot of color, as 
 clad in her bright pink gown, her neat white 
 apron and vivid " head-hand kercher," she 
 waddled about complacently beneath the 
 spreading branches of the feathery elms. 
 
 The old woman had not been very long in 
 evidence before crowds of gamin, scenting 
 the novelty of the thing began to gather. 
 They jeered Tempe, whirling about her in 
 distracting cart-wheel somersaults while
 
 72 TEMPE'S VENTURE. 
 
 others took the opportunity of " snaking " 
 delicacies from her tempting store. 
 
 But the appearance of the mayor himself 
 put the gang to route for the time, anyhow, 
 as he walked up to the old woman exclaim 
 ing : " Hi, maum Tempe, what's all this ? " 
 
 Tempe's thick, liver-colored lips curled over 
 pink toothless gums in a wide, pleased smile. 
 " What'll ye hab, Mars Torm, sah ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Well, a chicken sandwich and a cruller." 
 Tempe served out the delicacy and his honor 
 munched it, exchanging genial banter with 
 the old woman the while. The wagon moved 
 away and other customers came, and the old 
 woman watched her stock in trade dwindle 
 with much complacence. 
 
 But her troubles were not ended. They 
 had not even begun, until a customer, one of 
 her own color arrived. He was a big man, 
 evidently from " down de country," as his 
 clothes were sprinkled liberally with tiny
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 73 
 
 flots of cotton, his big splay feet were minus 
 shoes, and his general looped and windowed 
 raggedness betrayed the supreme indifference 
 to personal appearance characteristic of the 
 country negro. Stopping near the table he 
 hailed Tempe : " Hi, lady, what ye got ? " 
 
 " Vittles, sah," with the indifference of 
 one negro to another. " Sellin' 'em, I is." 
 
 " What yer ax ?" 
 
 " What dat yer want ? " and Tempe un 
 covered her stock. 
 
 " What yer ax ter let meh eat ? he asked, 
 roving his small, oily eye over the display of 
 food. Tempe was somewhat taken aback at 
 this novel question and for a moment was at 
 a loss to meet it properly, " Um-m " she 
 stammered, hesitatingly, "how much you 
 gwyne eat ? " 
 
 "Twel I done had plenty." 
 
 Tempe hesitated a moment longer, then, 
 still doubtfully offered the proposition : You 
 gib meh half a-dollah an' eat all yuh wants." 
 
 " Eat twel I done had plenty ? "
 
 74 TEMPE'S VENTURE. 
 
 "Yas sah." The man handed over the 
 half dollar and seating himself, began an ons 
 laught that put poor Tempe entirely to rout 
 The fine, big ham was peeled to the bone, 
 the pile of biscuit dwindled as if by magic, 
 one biscuit serving for a single bite. Crul 
 lers and chicken went the way of the rest, 
 and Tempe, her eyes bulging, remonstrated 
 vigorously at every mouthful. 
 
 " Yuh done eat more'n a half-dollah's 
 wuth, man ! " She insinuated more than once, 
 but the negro eat steadily on, making no an 
 swering comment. 
 
 The ham and bread gone, the crullers van 
 ished, the negro turned his attention to a 
 pile of pies, a reserved force. Then Tempe 
 arose in much wrath, and in a high falsetto 
 of determined anger, demanded : 
 
 " Leave 'dem pies alone, nigger ! " but the 
 man paid no heed. 
 
 " Leave 'em 'lone, I say ! Hear ? " 
 
 "Yuh 'lowed I could have plenty fer half 
 a dollah."
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 75 
 
 " Plenty ! Yuh is done had plenty ! Yuh 
 is done eat th' wuth er five dollahs. Leave 
 dem pies alone ! " 
 
 " But I aint done had aplenty," and he 
 cooly proceeded to demolish pie after pie, 
 regardless of the old woman's vociferous 
 remonstrance. 
 
 How the matter might have ended is not 
 known, for just then the mayor sauntering 
 down the street was appealed to and decided 
 the case. 
 
 Tempe admitted the fact of having said 
 the man could eat his fill for the consider 
 ation of one half dollar, but as his fill seemed 
 to cover or embrace a larger quantity than 
 Tempe possessed, the mayor decided that he 
 had already recieved full value for his coin 
 and ordered him to begone. 
 
 "The sandwich was good, Tempe, can 
 you let me have another ? " observed the 
 genial mayor. Tempe surveyed the remains 
 of her little stock mournfully, shaking her 
 head sadly.
 
 76 TEMPE'S VENTURE. 
 
 " Dat I can't, Mars Torm, Dat nigger 
 done clean meh plumb out. Nothin left but 
 de plates. Never did see sich a niggar 
 since I was borned inter dis-sher worl' ! " 
 
 And so Tempe's venture was not the suc 
 cess that she anticipated, but she still thinks 
 that she would have done very well indeed if 
 she had not "struck a snag," meaning the 
 man who devoured her whole stock in trade 
 at one sitting.
 
 Re Knew the JVUstrcss, 
 
 'OME men git dey wives, an, den 
 ag'in, some men's wives git 
 dem." No one seemed inclined 
 to dispute this philosophy, and 
 catching the beady, black eye 
 of the saucy yellow housemaid, 
 old 'Rastus continued : 
 
 " Dar was Miss Millie Otis, she war as ol' 
 an' as ugly as Satan, hopin' de Lawd'll 
 scuse meh but she got de fines' an' 
 peartes' man in de county fer a husban.' 
 Dat man was Mars George Lamb. Mars 
 George's paw, he done die an' lef Mars 
 George mighty nigh a hundred niggers an' 
 fo' big plantations. 
 
 " He done lef him money in de bank, an' 
 
 I 
 
 77
 
 78 HE KNEW THE MISTRESS. 
 
 steamboats. Yassir," emphatically, "steam 
 boats on de ribber. An," questioningly, "what 
 Mars George done do ? " He done cut loose 
 fas' as he could trabble down ter New 'leans, 
 an' nobody an't seed 'im nor year nuthin' mo' 
 er 'im twel he done got shed o' land, niggers, 
 boats, an' all. 
 
 Den Miss Millie Otis she had mo' money 
 an' truck'n Mars George, an* she truck'n 
 sont 'im word by her paw, de ol' Jedge, 
 dat if he wanted ter mahry, she had de 
 money fer two an' she was done ready. 
 Mars George knowed Miss Millie well, kase 
 she done a grown gall when Mars George 
 was sucklin,' an' eve'y body knowed she ol' 
 'nuff toe be de boy's maw. 
 
 " Mars George he study 'bout hit a spell ; 
 he study 'bout de niggers an' de Ian' an' de 
 money what he done spen', an' de niggers 
 an' Ian' an' money what Miss Millie got, an' 
 bimeby he 'low he ready toe mahry if Miss 
 Millie done hab 'im.
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 79 
 
 " Dey was mahried in de big house whar' 
 de ol' jedge done die, an' when Miss Millie 
 come a-prancin' inter de big parlor longside 
 Mars George, lookin' all de same's de boy's 
 maw, an' de fine white frock an' long vail a- 
 streamin' over her face couldn't hide hit 
 nuther. Mars George, he cut he eye at all 
 de purty young galls what was dar, a gigglin' 
 an' a laffin', but he warn't thinkin' 'bout dem. 
 He mind was on Miss Millie's money an' 
 niggers, but law, hit warn't gwyne do him 
 no manner er good ef he on'y knowed 
 hit. 
 
 " Ol' jedge Otis done gib 'em de big house 
 an ? dee settle down dar, an' Lawd-a-mussy, 
 hit warn't long befo' hit was a dawg's life 
 Miss Millie put toe Mars George. Hit was : 
 'Dis is mine, an' dat is mine, an' fore long 
 Miss Millie she 'low, ' you is mine, kase my 
 money done bought yer,' all de same's if 
 Mars George was any nigger. Bimeby Mars 
 George git tired dat 'ooman's foolishness an'
 
 8o HE KNEW THE MISTRESS. 
 
 tink he gwyne toe New 'leans an' gwyne 
 take Miss Millie's money same's he done take 
 his'n, but Miss Millie done fool 'im, kase 
 she done tie hit all up befo' dee done mahry, 
 whar he can't put a finger on hit. 
 
 Den Mars George git mad ; I tell yer, an' 
 rear roun', but Miss Millie she just laff, an' 
 when Mars George git tired he just slope off 
 ter New 'leans all by he self, an' Miss Millie 
 an't seed 'im from dat day ter dis. Kase 
 when de yankees done come, Mars 
 George went out ter he'p drive 'em off, an' 
 he was done clean kilt, plumb the first one. 
 
 " Den dar was Miss Loulie, Miss Millie's 
 sister," continued Rastus, for he was in a 
 deeply reminiscent mood that ran on the 
 shortcomings of his white folks, the feminine 
 portion of which he was an acute, if rather 
 crude judge. " Dat white 'ooman was dat 
 scornful o' poo' folks dat she 'spised ter look 
 at 'em. She 'low de ground an't good enough 
 ter put her foots to, an' when she was a
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 8 1 
 
 ridin' an' a cavotin' up de big road on her 
 boss she'd drive clean over poo' folks ef dee 
 didn't git outer de road. 
 
 " All de young bucks 'bout yere come co'tin' 
 dat gall, but she jis rear her haid back an' 
 driv' em all off, an' she 'low, Miss Loulie did, 
 'dat none of de white folks roun' dis place had 
 fortin' big enough toe go long o' hern, an' 
 dat all de young gen'leman was too onnery 
 ter come a courtin' o' her.' 
 
 " Den Miss Loulie go long ter New 'leans 
 wid de ol' jedge, her paw, an' dee tek me 
 long ter wait on 'em. Me, an' Silvy-Ann, 
 an' our gall. Bless de Lawd ! Whilst we war 
 dar, Miss Loulie seed a young buck dat 
 lowed he was from Kaintuck, er Allerbammer, 
 er some sich outlandish place. 
 
 " He was mighty purty, an' mighty peart, 
 an' he warn't stingy wid de niggers, nuth- 
 er." 
 
 " But Lawd ! de big tales dat white man 
 done tole 'bout what he got in dat place,
 
 82 HE KNEW THE MISTRESS. 
 
 whar he come from, an' de niggers he low 
 call him .' Marster ! "' 
 
 " One day when he war settin' in Miss 
 Loulie's parlor talkin' his big talk, Miss Lou- 
 lie she 'low, she did : 
 
 " ' Mist' Rob't, how many niggers is yuh 
 got, anyhow ? ' 
 
 " Mist' Rob't, roll he eyes an' look at Miss 
 Loulie kind er keerless like an' he 'low: 
 ' Well, Miss Loulie, I's got John, my man, 
 an' Jim, my driver, and I's got forty mo,' I 
 reckon.' Ummn ! Dat please Miss Loulie 
 mightily, an' hit warn't long befo' she 'low 
 ter Silvy-Ann, when she war a-combin' of her 
 Missis' hair, dat she ' gwyne git mahried, an' 
 de man what she gwyne mahry was Mist' 
 Rob't' 
 
 " Bless Gawd, dee did git mahried, an' sich 
 a toe-do youh never laid yer eyes on. Look 
 like dey warn't nuthin' good 'nough fer dat 
 weddin'. 
 
 " Den when hit war all over an' de white
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 83 
 
 folks was a-gwyne home, ol' Jedge Otis call 
 all de niggers out in de yard an' sorted out 
 dem he gwyne give Miss Loulie. 
 
 " He done give her me an' Silvy-Ann, an' 
 our chillun fer de house, an' Mars Rob't done 
 'low he had forty haid, Mars Otis done give 
 Miss Loulie forty haid mo' kase she warn't 
 gwyne be out-done by nobody. 
 
 " Befo' Gawd ! When we all got toe Mars 
 Robt's place, what yuh reckon ? Dar warn't 
 no big house dar 'tall ! Dat sweet moufed 
 white man done git Miss Loulie an' all dem 
 niggers an' he an't nuthin' but po' white 
 trash, nohow. Dar was a little, ol' ramshack 
 le place what 'ud 'scrace de overseer er de 
 cent white folks, an' dar warn't no culled 
 folks quarters 'tall, wuth talkin' 'bout. Miss 
 Loulie step outen de kerridg, her paw's, 
 what he done give her, an' she 'low she 
 did: 
 
 " ' Dissher de manshion yuh talk so much 
 'bout, sah ? '
 
 84 HE KNEW THE MISTRESS. 
 
 " Mars Rob't talk an' talk, but we culled 
 folks an't heered what he say. Miss Loulie 
 walk up on de porch an' set in de cheer what 
 Mars Rob't's man fotch er, an' she 'low to 
 Mars Rob't, she did: 
 
 "'Git yer niggers togedder an' lemme se 'em 
 Hit wouldn't be no surprise ef dee was just 
 lak de mansion. Git 'em togedder, sah ! ' 
 An' Miss Loulie reared her ha.id lak she used 
 ter when she went a-rampagui' 'roun' de ol' 
 jedge's place ter home. 
 
 " Den Mars Rob't 'low ter John, his man, 
 ' John, yuh go till Jim an' forty mo' dee mis 
 sis wants ter see em.' John he 'low, 'yassir,' 
 an' run off, an' bimeby he come back wid 
 Jim an' a leetle, finicky ol' nigger dat walk 
 wid a stick. He so ol' he toofs done drap 
 out, an' he an't got no sign er ha'r on he's 
 haid. Dee come' long ter de steps, kerchey- 
 in' ter de missis dee very bes'. 
 
 " Missis she look at Mars Rob't an' she 
 'low : ' Well, sah, whar de forty mo' yuh
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 85 
 
 talk 'bout ? ' Mars Rob't he look at dem tree 
 mis'able niggers an' he 'low, as cool as a 
 chunk of butter in de spring : Dem's all. 
 Dar's John, meh man, an' Jim de driver, an' 
 Forty mo', a mis'able oP creeter dat an't good 
 for nothin' dat's sartin, 'ceptin hit's buzzard's 
 meat. Dat leetle ole one is Forty mo." 
 
 "Miss Loulie didn't say nuthin' but jess got 
 up an' went into de house. But befo'she went 
 she jess look at Mars Rob't, an' befo' de 
 good Gawd ! I wouldn't a bin dat man not for 
 nothing not if he is white an' mahried to de 
 richest gall in de county. Kase, you all see, 
 we done know Miss Loulie."
 
 H ]^o 'count JViggcr, 
 
 'ESS sher is white folks dat is 
 white folks " was a statement 
 with which old Rastus always 
 prefaced his stories. ' ' I 'mem 
 bers well how tings wus in ol' 
 Mars' time. Dey wus ev'ryt'ing 
 in de big house an' in de kitchen too, but 
 honey, yo' paid for yo' vittles. Work yo' ? 
 Um-hum, honey, dont talk. 
 
 " Dar wus ol' Ira what used toe shuck de 
 co'ne fer de mewls an' do 'bout ginnerly. 
 Br'er Ira he go toe de co'ne house an he shuck 
 co'ne nuff ter do one muel an' dat warn't 
 nuff ter do Ira heself ef hit was made into 
 pone an' den Br'er Ira he fall sleep in de 
 co'ne shucks an' sleep an' sleep, twel twelve 
 
 86
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 87 
 
 o'clock done come an' de mewls is brung in, 
 an' Ira still sleep, an' dey ant no co'ne ter 
 feed em wid. 
 
 "Ol' Mars he fool 'long wid Ira, en tell him 
 bout shuckin' er dat co'ne, an' he tell 'im 
 ev'y day, but 'taint no manner er use. Dat 
 nigger done git so sleepy w'en he git in de 
 co'ne house, dat he jes nachully falls ter sleep 
 an' furgits all 'bout dem mewels an' dee feed. 
 Bimeby ol' Mars done git tired foolin' long 
 wid Br'er Ira, an' he 'low, ol' Mars did : 
 
 " ' Look-a-heer, you onnery, no count nig 
 ger, I done gwyne tas' you, an' ef you doan 
 git dat tas' done, I gwyne whop yo' sho I 
 
 " Ol' Mars he go toe de co'ne house shoo 
 nuff, an' he tas' Br'er Ira, but law ! dat doan 
 do no manner er good, kase Ira he jus' sleep, 
 an' de co'ne ant gwyne chuck by hitself. 
 All dat gwyne on er Br'er Ira's sorter git 
 ahead er ol' Mars, an' he 'low ter dat nig 
 ger : 
 
 " ' Ef yo' cant shuck co'ne you kin hoe
 
 88 A NO 'COUNT NIGGER. 
 
 taters I gwyne sold yer,' an' a heap mo' Mars 
 done say ter Ira what ant fitten fer no 
 church member ter splain 'long arter 'im. 
 
 " Ol' Mars done whop Ira twel hit nat- 
 chully ant no use, an' Mars couldn't sold 
 him kase ev'ey body done know 'bout his 
 owdacious triflinness. 
 
 " Bless de Lawd, Ira hoe taters lak he shuck 
 co'ne. He leave dat hoe in de furrer an' go 
 foolin' 'long wid de galls what was washin' 
 cloes at de spring. 
 
 " When sundown done come, an' Mars seed 
 de taters an't hoed, he sont fer Ira an' he 
 'lowed, ol' mars did : ' You onnery no 'count 
 nigger ! What you reckon I feeds you fer ? 
 You ant wuth de bread you eats. I ant 
 gwyne whop you no mo,' an' I ant gwyne 
 sold you, kase you ant wuth foolin' nobody 
 wid. You ant no use on top side dissher 
 yearth an' I'm done gwyne take you off en 
 hit. I'm done gwyne ter bury you ! You 
 hear dat, nigger ? I'm done gwyne bury 
 you 'live ! '
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 89 
 
 " Lawdy, Gawd A mighty ! Ef you 
 never seed a skeered nigger, Ira he was one, 
 an' he begged ol' Mars lak a dawg, but hit 
 warn't no use. No use 'tall. 
 
 " Ol' Mars he call de cyarpenter an' mek 
 him take Ira's size, an' tell him ter mek a 
 strong coffin fer dat nigger so's he couldn't 
 bus' loose no how. When de cyarpenter 
 done mek dat coffin dey took Ira outen de 
 smoke house whar dey done had him shot, 
 kase dey was afeered he would take toe de 
 swamp, an' bless de lawd ! Dee nailed 'im in 
 de box an' toted hit down ter de graveyard. 
 
 " Ol' Mars, he went 'long ter see dey 
 warn't no foolin', an' he low he gwyne see 
 dat no' count' nigger put down deep, Gentle 
 men, dat nigger he beg yas sir,he jis reglarly 
 preached ! Ira 'he low : ' Wah ! Ol' Mars, 
 please sah dont done bury poo' Ira sah ! ' 
 
 " Ol Mars he 'low : ' Cyarry 'im 'long 
 boys ! 
 
 " Ira he 'low : ' Please sah whop meh, er
 
 go A NO 'COUNT NIGGER. 
 
 sol' meh down de ribber, but fer Gawd sake 
 doan put meh down wid de yeath worms ! ' 
 
 " Ol' Mars he low : ' Cyarry Mm long boys.' 
 
 " ' Wah ! Please Mars ! I shuck all de co'ne, 
 I done shuck all dat co'ne an' hoe de taters 
 an' de cotton sah, ef you please doan put 
 meh underneaf de groun ' ! ' 
 
 " Ol Mars ! he sorter laff ' an ' he * low : 
 'Cyarry 'im long boys.' 
 
 " Ira he done quit beggin an' took ter 
 hollerin, an' Gentlemen, you could year dat 
 nigger way down ter de crick, same's he done 
 bin callin horgs! 
 
 " When dee gits ter de graveyard ol' Mars 
 low : Is yuh got nuffin ter say, Ira, befo ' 
 yuh is buried ! ' 
 
 " Ira he lowed ; ' Yassir, boss, sah, Ef 
 yuh please sah, doan bury meh dis time. Ef 
 yuh doan do hit I done shuck all dat co'ne an' 
 hoe all dem taters long fore sundown ! 'Fore 
 de Lawd I will! ' 
 
 " Mars he 'low ; ' ef you does all dat I lets
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 9! 
 
 yuh off dis time, but nex' time yuh not done 
 yuh tas' I bury yuh shoo. Let 'im out 
 boys.' 
 
 " De cyarpenter he tuck off de lid an de 
 way dat nigger he pop outen dat box was a 
 sin ! An' gentlemen, Br'er Ira he run ter 
 dat co'ne house and had all that co'nes shuck 
 ed 'long 'fo' hit was night. Ol' Mars he ant 
 done bury Ira yit, kase he done die hese'f an' 
 dat nigger's a settin here yit.
 
 Big Ben. 
 
 ** 
 
 'EN dar was dat no count' nigger, 
 big Ben," observed old Rastus 
 polishing the bowl of the silver 
 spoon he was cleaning, until his 
 own visage, black, seamed and 
 wrinkled, was reflected therein. 
 " He done mek ol' Mars mighty heap trouble 
 in he time. Ol' Mars he wurn't what we all 
 call' nigger driver, kase he nebber driv' he 
 niggers, but he gwyne mek 'em wuk ef de 
 good Gawd spar' 'im. 
 
 " But dat Ben was triflin' sho nuff, an' when 
 ol' Marsbrung 'im frum de swamp in cotton 
 pickin' time an' sot 'im a workin' in de fiel,' 
 Ben he 'low he not gwyne ter sweat hese'f 
 toe def fer no white buckra, 'ceptin' he slip
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 93 
 
 up. An when hit rain an' rain an' spile de 
 cotton crop, Ben he laff an' 'low ter de yether 
 han's : 
 
 " ' More rain, more res' ; all fair weather 
 a'nt de bes.' 
 
 " Ol' Mars he done slip up on Ben an' year 
 'im a-talkin' dat-erway, an' ol' Mars he low 
 right quick, he did : 
 
 " 'You black rascal ! What dat yuh say, 
 sah ? ' 
 
 " Ben roll he eyes an' look skeered, but 
 Satan done tole 'im what ter say, an' he low 
 ter ol' Mars, Ben did. 
 
 " 'More rain, massa, more de grass grow, 
 sah.' 
 
 " Ol Mars he laff, kase he done know Ben 
 wus a-prevericatin,' but twarn't long befo' de 
 white folks kotch up wid dat nigger. Ben he 
 toted an' toted. He toted meat from de 
 smoke house an' hid it in de swamp an' he 
 toted meal an put hit dar, too. 
 
 " Ol' Mars he keep he eye on 'im, but he
 
 94 BIG BEN. 
 
 a'nt say nothin' yit. Den Ben he go ter de 
 kitchen an' see Jinny, de dinin' room gall, 
 an' he sorter come 'roun' Jinny, he did, an' 
 'low he gwyne marry 'er, an' Jinny tote 'im 
 vittles frum de kitchen twel one day Missus 
 she kotch dat 'ooman. 
 
 " De cook she bile a ham lak ol' Missus 
 tole her an' sot hit out ter cool, an' Jinny 
 see dat ham, an' 'low she gwyne tote hit ter 
 Ben sho's she bawn. 
 
 " When Jinny was a gwyne thoo the pas 
 sage wid dat ham she hear ol' Miss a-comin' 
 She knowed hit wus ol' Miss, kase she hear 
 her silk frock a rustlin', an' she hide dat ham 
 underneath her coat, but ol' Miss done see 
 'er do hit an' give 'er fifty lashes. 
 
 " Den Jinny she got no mo' use fer Ben, 
 an' wouldn't fool 'long wid 'im no mo,' an' 
 when Ben done toted all he could git he 
 slipped off ter de swamp, an ol' Mars never 
 did know whar he went. 
 
 "When ol' Mars fin' out dat Ben done
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 95 
 
 gone he ax Jinny whar abouts dat nigger ? 
 but Jinny 'low she don't know nothin' 'tall 
 'bout 'im no how. Mars he whop 'er but she 
 don't know whar he gone, 'ceptin' he wid de 
 rations he done hid in de swamp. Den 
 Jinny she tell 'bout dem rations dat Ben steal 
 an' tote off ter de swamp. 
 
 " Nobody done tole Ben dat Jinny tell on 
 him, but he know hit sartin, kase he slip up 
 to de quarter an' lay 'round twel he git de 
 chance den he steal Jinny's boy what she 
 had befo' she done come ter de plantation. 
 He was a purty leetle yaller boy 'bout so 
 high, an' young Miss, she' keep 'im ter fotch 
 an tote fer her, an' he lay 'roun' de big 
 house twel he git as fat an' sassy as a coon 
 in 'simmon time. 
 
 " When Jinny miss de boy an' couldn't fin' 
 'im she knowed Ben done got 'im, an' she took 
 ter rampin', 'roun' 'rageously, an' young Miss 
 she took on 'most as bad as Jinny she-self. 
 
 " Ol' Mars he got out de houn's, an' de
 
 g BIG BEN. 
 
 yether white mens dey hunted an' dey 
 hunted, but dey a'nt find nuthin,' an' Ben 
 he jis' lay low twel de millyons was ripe in de 
 fiel'. Den we all knowed Br'er Ben warn't 
 far kase de han's done seed his tracks in 
 de patch, but none er dem niggers done tole 
 ol' Mars. 
 
 " A'ter while when de fodder was done 
 pulled an' de cone shucked, an' all de mill 
 yons done eat up, ol' Mars done turn out de 
 horgs in de fiel.' Dat ar wuz zackly what 
 Br'er Ben was countin' on, kase den he jis 
 slip out inter de cone patch any night an' 
 catch 'im a fat shoat an' eat barbecue twel 
 he don't want no mo.' 
 
 " Bimeby de horgs git ter runin' short, 
 an' ol' Mars he took ter countin' 'em an' fin' 
 dem missin', an' den ol' Mars' he low, he did. 
 4 Hits dat rascal Ben. I done seed his tracks 
 in de fiel,' an' I gwyne kotch 'im ef hit takes 
 every houn in dis-sher county.' 
 
 " Den ol' Mars he sont down ter C'lumby
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 97 
 
 county, an' he sont ter Lincoln county fer de 
 houns' an' dey was all brung down ter de 
 plantation, an' sich a kiyiin uv houn's yo 
 never heered in all yer bawn days. 
 
 " But Lawd bless yo' soul, hit warn't no 
 manner er use. All de buckra men an' all 
 de houn's never did kotch Br'er Ben. He 
 jess lay low an' say nuthin.' 
 
 " A'ter while when de horgs was brung in 
 an' de taters was done banked an' ev'yti'ng 
 was fixed, hit jess sot in an' freeze an' freeze 
 an' we-uns had de bigges' horg killin' dat eber 
 was in dat county er de hull state er Georgy. 
 
 "Ol Mars he couldn't kotch Br'er Ben, an' 
 de houn's warn't no manner er count, but 
 people, de fros" an de snow hit took 'im. 
 
 " One mawnin' 'fore day ol' Jocks, he dat 
 druv ol' Miss, yeared a knockin' an' a knockin' 
 at he doo,' but Jocko he neber let on lak he 
 done yet, kase he a-feered hit waz Ku-Klux. 
 Dee knock an' dee knock, an' bimeby dee 
 call, an' den Jocko 'low ter he-se'f : "Dat ar's 
 Br'er Ben, shor's Ise bawn.
 
 98 BIG BEN. 
 
 " Jacko he wait twel he 'ere de call again, 
 'den he git up an' crack de doo' an, he 'low : 
 4 Dat yo' Br'er Ben ? ' an' Br'er Ben .he 'low : 
 ' Dissher's Ben, Jocko,' an' when Jocko crack 
 de doo,' he slip in an' 'low ter Jacko, he did: 
 
 " ' I pow'ful hongry, Br'er Jocko, I a'nt eat 
 nothin' much since hit done friz. Can't yo' 
 gib meh some brade ? ' 
 
 " Jocko he unkiver de ash cake an give 
 hit ter Br'er Ben, den he 'low, Jocko did : 
 'Brer Ben, how come de houn's ant kotch 
 yo' ? ' Br'er Ben he 'low : 
 
 " ' Kase dey never come whar I was, an' dey 
 never come whar I was kase dey couldn't git 
 dar yah ! yah ! ' 
 
 " Ben he eat de ash cake, an 'long 'fore 
 day he quit de cabin, but ol' Jocko was too 
 skeered toe look which erway he went. In 
 de mawnin' ol' Jocko study 'bout hit an'bimeby 
 he tole ol' Mars 'bout Br'er Ben, an, ol' Mars 
 'low ter Jocko, he did. 
 
 " ' Jacko, ef dat nigger come back an' yo'
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 99 
 
 lets meh know he dar so's I kotch 'im, I 
 gwyne gib yo' freedom shooly,' 
 
 " Jacko he ol' nigger, all cripple an' drawed 
 up wid de misery in de jints, but jess de same 
 he lak ter go free fore he die, an' he promise 
 ol' Mars he let 'im know. 
 
 " Ol' Mars waited an' waited, twel de dark 
 er de moon, an' one mawnin' jess befo' day, 
 he yer ol' Jacko 'low loud as he can holler, 
 jess de same's he a callin horgs : 
 
 " ' Come in Br'er Ben, an git de ash cake. 
 Hits done cook nice an brown fer suh, an' 
 is a-waitin', an' Ben he 'low: 
 
 " ' Shet yer big mouf, Jacko, white folks 
 done yere yuh ! 
 
 " ' White folks a'nt gwyne yere, Br'er Ben. 
 White folks deep down in de feather bed. 
 Come in, I tells yer, Br'er Ben, an' git 
 de ash cake 'fo' yuh goes back ter de swamp. 
 
 " Br'er Ben went in, an' bimeby ol' Mars 
 slip up on 'im an' kotch im, an' 'fore mawnin' 
 Ben he done locked up in de cone house.
 
 100 BIG BEN. 
 
 " Did Jocko git he freedom ? Bress Gawd ! 
 No, chile. Ol' Mars he took Br'er Ben an 
 ol' Jocko on de log boat down de river an' 
 sold em to a nigger driver fer de sugar fiel's. 
 
 " A'ter while Jinny's boy he come a-crawl- 
 in' back. He was a crawlin' kase he couldn't 
 walk, he feet done friz up toe he knees, whar 
 he'd bin a-sleepin' out in de fros' an' de cold, 
 an' bless de good Lawd, he done crawl twel 
 dis day ! "
 
 Gourds of fat, 
 
 NEVER is furgit dat ol' nigger, 
 Jocko," observed Rastus, watch 
 ing with approving eye, the 
 cook basting a brace of fat 
 fowls "put de gravy on 'em 
 plenty, an'doan' spar de butter," 
 parenthetically. " He was de bigges fool 
 nigger on de plantation. Yassir, he was sho' 
 a 'stracted nigger. Dissher de way ol' Mars 
 come ter have dem Af'ican niggers. One 
 day we all seed a boat come a wallerin' down 
 de ribber, an' de chillun flew ter de big 
 house an' tole de white folks hit was a-comin'. 
 Ol' Mars he took he spy glass what he hab 
 toe set in de shade an' watch dem niggers 
 workin' way down in de cotton patch, an' he
 
 102 TWO GOURDS OF FAT. 
 
 walk down ter de laudin' ter see de boat a- 
 comin. Ol' Mars Jeems Jones was a eatin' 
 break'fus' at de big house, an' he went 'long 
 wid Mars toe de ribber too. 
 
 "Ol' Mars put de glass toe he eye an' 
 bimeby he 'low: 'Hit's Sunday School Sam,' 
 an' I low, 'he got somefin on board,' an ol' 
 Mars he laff fit ter kill hese'f an' Mars Jeems 
 he laff too. 
 
 " But Lawdy Gawd ! I ant laff nun, kase I 
 know dat trader sho nuff, an' he was wusser'n 
 enny what trapsed up an' down de hull ribber. 
 
 " Den de news spread on dat plantation 
 dat Mars Sunday School Sam was a comin', 
 an'I 'low dee was skeered niggers dat day, 
 kase dee didn't know what ol' Mars was a- 
 gwyne do nohow. 
 
 " Dat boat stop an' Mars an' Mars Jeems 
 dee git on board, an' dee stay an' stay, an' 
 seem lak dee was a-comin' back, when 
 reckly dee comes a rowin' back, wid three 
 yether niggers, de daddy an' de two sons,
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 103 
 
 an' bless Gawd, dem culled pussons ant 
 had no mo' cloes on dem 'n de day dee was 
 bawn inter dissher worF ! Ol' Mars he brung 
 'em up ter de quarters, an'de 'oomen dee com 
 mence ter cut an sew, an' bimeby dee had 
 clo'es a plenty fer dem new niggers, what was 
 locked up in de smoke house twel dee git 
 dressed same's folks. Den when de 'oomen 
 git de clo'es make Mars 'low ter de men ter 
 'fotch em ter de smoke house an' put 'em on 
 dem folks.' 
 
 " Kase yer see, honey, dee was dem kine 
 er Af'can niggers what did'nt know what 
 clo'es was. And Lawdy Gawd, Chillun, as fas' 
 as de men put de good new homespun clo'es, 
 on dem niggers, dee t'ar em off er em, twel 
 dee git plumb tired a-tearin' em. A'ter 
 while dee git so dee leave de clo'es on, an' 
 bimeby dee larn talk leetle bit lak folks, an' 
 den ol' Mars he 'low ter de overseer he done 
 hit. 
 
 "Dee do mighty well, a tenden de horgs
 
 104 TW O GOURDS OF FAT. 
 
 'n' de sheep, an' a haulin' an' a cuttin' wood 
 V sich, 'n' de git ter talk right well. Ol' 
 Jocko he min' de sheep, an' bimeby dem 
 sheep commence ter come a missin'. A lamb 
 hit gone, an' den a big sheep hit gone, den 
 a shoat an' a yearlin'. Ol' Mars he watch, 
 an' de overseer he watch, but dee ant seed 
 nobody steal dem critters yit, kase whilst dee 
 watchin'dem animals all stay whar dee b'long. 
 
 " Den one day Missis go ter de smoke 
 house an' fin' whar some nigger done burrow 
 under de wall an' steal de rations outen dar. 
 Dar was hams a-missin an' sides er meat, an' 
 gourds er fat, an' meal twel dar warnt no 
 en,' an' den ol' Mars 'low he done tired er 
 dat foolishness an' he gwyne fin' out who 
 dat stealin', an' when he cotch up wid 'em 
 he gwyne sol' em ter de fust trader come 
 erlong. 
 
 " An Mars he do lak he say. Dar was ol' 
 Jocks, dat ol' Af'can an' he too sons, an' Ben 
 what I done tole yer bout. Dee was all dar
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 105 
 
 a-waitin' an' ol' Mars he 'low ter de driver, 
 he did : 
 
 " ' Begin wid Peter,' dat was Jocko's big- 
 
 ges' son, an' de driver did datter way lak ol' 
 
 Mars tell 'im. He take dat Pete, an' he strip 
 
 ( 'im an tie 'im ter de pos' an' den de driver 
 
 he 'low : 
 
 " 'Who dat bin a stealin' dem tings,' an' 
 cut im wid de rawhide. Pete he jump lak a 
 ol' hen in hot ashes, an' he 'low : ' I dunno, 
 please Mars, an' ol' Jocko he 'low, a dancin' 
 roun' wusser'n Pete hese'f ; ' Sticky ter dat, 
 son ! sticky ter dat, son ! ' 
 
 " Dee done whop Pete, an dee whop Bob, 
 an' dee ant say nuthin' bout de stealin' 'tall 
 'ceptin ' I dunno, Mars,' an' den dee tuk ol 1 
 Jocko hese'f. 
 
 " Well, sah, w'en dee tuk hoi' er dat ol' 
 nigger ter tie 'im he commenced ter preach, 
 ah' Lawd, Gawd-Amighty ! Yuh cud a-done 
 heed 'im clean ter de settlement. Yassir, he 
 preached ! ' Oh Mars ! Please sah, doan
 
 106 TWO GOURDS OF FAT. 
 
 whop Jocko,' he 'low, an' ol' Mars he 'low his 
 se'f : ' Who steal dem rations an' dem crit 
 ters, yuh ol' tief ? ' 
 
 " Jocko he 'low : ' Oh Mars, please sah, I 
 dunno' sah ! ' 
 
 " Den de driver lay hit on ol' Jocko "Cush- 
 wou!' De whip hit 'im, an' suh, he preach 
 louder yit, an' time dee done hit 'im nother 
 time dat ol' nigger bleg' ter tell all he done 
 know. 
 
 " Cushwou ! de whip say, an' ol' Jocko he 
 'low ' Wah, masser ! Look down in de tater 
 hole ! ' Cushwou ! ' Yuh fine two hams er 
 meat an' two gourds er fat,' Cushwou ! ' Wah' 
 masser ! Look down in de ol' dry well ! ' Cush 
 wou I ' Yuh fin one bag er meal an' all dem 
 sheep ! ' An' bles Gawd, ev'ry time dee pop ol' 
 Jocko he tell whar dee done put dat rations, 
 twel he done tole all he knowed bout hit, an' 
 Pete an' Bob 'lowed, 'ef dee knowed dee paw 
 gwyne tell dee tell deyse'f 'fore dee git a whop- 
 pin' lak dat fur nuthin'.
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 107 
 
 " Den de driver he put de mule in de cyart 
 an' drub ter de tater hole, an' git dem hams 
 er meat, an' dem gourds er fat, an' den he 
 went ter de ol' dry well an' git de meal an' 
 de sheep what was done_ stowed dar, an' gen 
 tlemen, when he come back he done had de 
 cyart loaded full ! 
 
 " No, honey, Mars an't done keep dem 
 niggers. A'ter de horg killin' an' de chris'- 
 mus was ober Mars he tek dem an' some 
 yether chillun what he done tek a unlike ter, 
 an' sol' 'em ter a trader what come erlong, 
 kase yer see, ol' Mars couldn't brek em from 
 stealin' nohow."
 
 Gpbiram's Bold Strobe* 
 
 
 
 STHER was busy at the washtub, 
 but she kept a vigilant eye upon 
 the cabin door, so that Ephriam, 
 her better half, could not slip 
 away without being seen and in 
 tercepted by her. Esther was not 
 a tyrant, but she ruled the trifling little old 
 man with a rigor little to his liking, and he 
 respected as well as feared her, mightily. 
 
 Eph knew that Esther's eye was upon the 
 door, so slipping from the rear of the cabin, 
 he kept in the shadow, hoping to reach the 
 neck of the woods before being discovered 
 and commanded to return. 
 
 But just as the goal was almost reached 
 and Eph was about to plunge into the shadow 
 108
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 1 09 
 
 of the tall trees, a. voice that always made 
 his eyes bulge and his wool creep upon his 
 tough old pate, reached his ear. 
 
 " Yuh Eph, sah, whar dat yer gwyne ? 
 Foolin' 'bout in dem woods an' meh a-wash- 
 in' mehse'f toe-deff ovah de wash-tub ! Come 
 back heah, sah, an' shove de bresh up toe 
 dissher pot ! " 
 
 And Eph's shrill treble answered back : 
 " Jess a-gwyne down by de branch, a leetle. 
 Seed a mighty big buck rabbit dar two maw- 
 nin's, an' mebbe ef yer maw comes, she'd lak 
 some stew." 
 
 The allusion to her mother mollified Es 
 ther, as Eph counted upon its doing, and as 
 the good soul said no more he limped hastily 
 into the thicket. 
 
 " Drub-drub," went the washboard, as 
 Esther patiently toiled away the sunny mo 
 ments, and Eph roamed in well contented 
 leisure through the pleasant greenery of the 
 summer woods. Emerging near the spring,
 
 110 EPHIRAM S BOLD STROKE. 
 
 Eph crept cautiously forward, and surely 
 enough, tripping daintily about among the 
 lush grasses he discovered a fine grey jack- 
 rabbit. In an instant the gun went up, the 
 little oily eye twinkled viciously at the sight, 
 there was a sharp report, and when the film 
 of blue smoke melted, Eph was joyfully bag 
 ging his wooly prize. 
 
 Shouldering his ancient single barelled 
 weapon the old fellow strode on, humming 
 contentedly, a camp-meeting hymn, until he 
 arrived at a small log cabin set in the middle 
 of a tiny clearing deep in the woods. Strad 
 dling the rail fence he went boldly up to the 
 rear door of a small hut, and entered as 
 though sure of his welcome, or as one whose 
 visits would be taken as a matter of course- 
 Sitting in the sunshine, wrapping her hair 
 which stood in great wiry masses about her 
 face, was the mistress of the cabin, a big, 
 yellow woman with great prominent white 
 teeth and big bold eyes.
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. Ill 
 
 "What dat yuh doin' honey?" Eph 
 asked familiarly, appropriating the only 
 other hide bottomed chair the room con 
 tained. 
 
 "Who dat yuh call 'honey?' she de 
 manded, as though not well pleased. 
 
 " Pooty yaller 'ooman, lak yuh," Eph 
 answered with ready gallantry. 
 
 The woman laughed, and leaning forward 
 applied a smart slap on the old man's with 
 ered jaw. " Tek dat-ar, yuh ol' 'ceitful pos- 
 um ! " she observed spitefully. 
 
 " If I'd a-knowed yuh was gwyne pop meh 
 jaw," observed Eph much aggrieved, "I 
 wouldn't a brought yuh dis-sher," and he 
 drew from his bag the limp jack rabbit and 
 laid it across her lap. The woman fondled 
 the soft ears of the creature, looking 
 wickedly at its donor from the corner of her 
 eye. " Huk-kum," she asked severely," huk- 
 kum yuh an't give hit ter dat brown-skin gall 
 down dar in de holler? "
 
 ii2 EPHIRAM'S BOLD STROKE. 
 
 Eph pricked up his ears, simulating inno 
 cence and surprise. "Who dat 'low 'bout 
 no brown-skin gall ? Don't know nuthin' 
 'tall bout her, myse'f." 
 
 "Umhuh! Dat '11 do for yuh ter say in 
 meeting," gibingly. 
 
 Then Eph drew his call to an abrupt close, 
 starting homeward by a short cut through 
 the wood. The woman's displeasure made a 
 very transient impression upon him, for as 
 he slouched along through the delicmos green 
 ery, he essayed to sing in a curious cracked 
 falsetto, that seemed at times to gurgle out 
 in lumps, then to trickle forth in a thready 
 steam, making altogether a rather queer 
 sounding performance indeed. The hymn 
 tune now gave precedence to a love ditty, 
 which the old man warbled with much un 
 ction 
 
 "I tek meh true-lub by de han' 
 An* turn her roun 'an* roun' 
 I tek her toe de sugar tree 
 An' shake de sugar down ! 
 An' shake de sugar down."
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 113 
 
 The last line was repeated with many shakes 
 and quavers and trills of the queer old 
 voice, spinning the final word through a 
 series of notes both original and unique. 
 Coming into another clearing where the 
 meeting house stood, the old fellow paused 
 abrutly and with a claw-like hand curled 
 behind his ear, stood listening intently. 
 Surely some one was in the building, pos 
 sibly a number of persons, and thinking he 
 might as well inform himself of what was 
 going on, without himself being seen, if pos 
 sible, he crept cautiously up to the rear of 
 the log building, and dropping on his knees, 
 applied his eye to a chink in the wall, from 
 which coign of vantage could be seen quite 
 plainly the whole interior of the church. 
 The door stood ajar, letting in a thin steam 
 of sunshine, and in the cool shady dimness, 
 Eph recognized a prominent and powerful 
 preacher of his own race, standing on the 
 floor, in the act of rehearsing his sermon 
 for the coming Sunday.
 
 ii4 EPHIRAM'S BOLD STROKE. 
 
 The preacher, a big, glossy black negro, 
 but with much power and homely eloquence 
 and a through knowledge of his subject, was 
 just rounding off an elaborate period as Eph 
 applied his eye to the chink and to illustrate 
 his point, the preacher continued, after a 
 short impressive pause : 
 
 "Now dar's Br'er Jones. He sets in de 
 ' Amen' conder same's a 'coon in a holler 
 stump, an many 'nother nigger 'lows 'Amen' 
 as strong as he do. But jess de same he 
 gwyne rob hen roost an' tater-bank befo' he 
 gits home ter-night. Den dar sets Sis' 
 Pheby," pointing an accusing finger into the 
 dim recesses of the empty benches, " To be 
 sho she's a big chu'ch member, but ant she 
 gwyne here an' a gwyne dar, a-totin' of 
 tales an' a makin' a quar'l betwix dissher 
 man an' he wife, an' a stirrin' up of a mess 
 de whole week ? " 
 
 " Um-hum ! " ejaculated Eph with unctuous 
 approval, " give hit toe dem sinners Br'er 
 Jackson ! "
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 115 
 
 " Den," continued the preacher, all uncon 
 scious of an approving auditor, " Den dars 
 dat Deacon Gibbs, a settin' right dar 
 amongst yer, an' ef de good Lawd was ter 
 come down dissher minit an look in dat nig 
 ger's britches pocket, he'd find dem bones 
 what de deacon loves ter shake better'n he 
 love de blessed light. Yas ! Br'er'n an' 
 sisters, dice is Deacon Gibbses besettin' 
 sin." 
 
 Eph smothered a chuckle of amused ap 
 proval, and as the preacher continued to 
 score one after another of the prominent 
 members of the congregation, twisted himself 
 with many grotesque postures of suppressed 
 mirth. But suddenly his grin vanished, he 
 hitched up closer to the crack in the wall, his 
 jaw dropped and his countenance took an 
 expression of strained intensity of interest. 
 The preacher's voice had sunk to a less im 
 pressive and accusing key, but his remarks 
 were of burning interest to the old man, for 
 he himself was the subject.
 
 n6 EPHIRAM'S BOLD STROKE. 
 
 " Another one of dem lambs in sheep's 
 cloding," continued the preacher, "is Br'er 
 Ephr'm Washin'ton. He run here toe dissher 
 'ooman an' dar toe see dat-ar 'ooman an' 
 yander ter see dat gal, twel he an't got no 
 time 'tall toe work for he own wife, Esther, 
 an' I tell you all, sis' Esther is a mighty 
 fine 'ooman an' sister in de church. Dat 
 she is ! " 
 
 Eph had heard sufficient. His interested 
 amusement in the discourse had evaporated, 
 and shouldering his old gun he crept silently 
 and noislessly away from the church into the 
 wood. By a short cut he soon reached his 
 own cabin, and taking Esther aside, told her 
 in part, the sermon he overheard. 
 
 " He 'low," said the wily Eph, " right out 
 in meetin', dat yo' leads yo' poo' oP husban' 
 a dawg's life, but," noting a ominous change 
 on Esther's face, " I spec dat some sis' 
 Phoeb's lies what he done hear." 
 
 Esther was indignant and expressed a
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 117 
 
 determination to tell the preacher " what 
 was what " when she once " laid eyes on 
 him," but Eph offered eager counsel. 
 
 " When he git here," advised he, " we 
 gwyne draw dat 'simmon beer an' set 'im 
 down ter dat rabbit stew an' roas' tater what 
 you savin' fer yo' maw, an' den we gwyne 
 kotch some er dem fat chickens what flounc 
 ing round in dat co'n patch, fer he's break'fas' 
 an' when he git ter de chu'ch, I boun' he done 
 furgit all about how yo' is done lak yo' 
 oughten ter." 
 
 Eph's advice prevailed. The preacher 
 came and was so graciously received and 
 hospitably entertained that he put off other 
 calls until the morrow. Esther's cracked 
 pitcher was drawn full of foamy 'simmon 
 beer, a capacious hide seated rocker was 
 placed for him beneath the shade of the 
 flowering peach trees, and he abandoned him 
 self to rest and pleasant anticipations of the 
 pleasures in store.
 
 n8 EPHIRAM'S BOLD STROKE. 
 
 While the good man rested, Eph let no 
 grass grow beneath his rheumatic old feet. 
 Drawing Esther into the cabin, he whispered: 
 " I done git dat jack rabbit dis mawnin, an' 
 got him a-coolin' down at de spring. I gwyne 
 git 'im fer dat stew." 
 
 Esther nodded approving assent and slip 
 ping through the rear exit, Eph was soon 
 again gliding through the shadowy spring 
 woods. Making a detour he came out be 
 hind the cabin where he had visited earlier 
 in the day, and where he had left the spoil of 
 his marksmanship. As he had hoped, all 
 about the cabin was silent, and to Eph's 
 trained eye, the indications about the clear 
 ing betokened absence of the inmates of the 
 place. But to guard against surprises and 
 make assurance doubly sure the old fellow 
 applied his eye to the hole near the door fas 
 tening and shook the door, calling softly: 
 " M'linda ! Oh, M'linda ! " 
 
 A very lean yellow cat came through the
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. Ii<) 
 
 cat-hole beneath the door, blinking soft yel 
 low eyes, and fawning around the old man's 
 feet. 
 
 " Ump ! " and with a stealthy glide, Eph, 
 left the door and was peering anxiously into 
 the well. Pushing over, he began to pull a 
 string at the end of which, some object dan 
 gled down the cool depths. When he brought 
 it up, the light revealed the jack rabbit of the 
 morning, all nicely skinned and salted, coiled 
 cool and inviting in the bottom of a large tin 
 pail. Eph's old lips curled over his toothless 
 gums in a maliciously amused grin as he cut 
 the string, and after carefully obliterating 
 his tracks from the moist earth about the 
 well curb, glided again into the greenery of 
 his beloved woods. 
 
 " Injin giver ! " he muttered in capital im 
 itation of the big yellow woman whom he had 
 just dispoiled of her expectant meal. " Injin 
 giver' you 'ceitful ol' 'possum ! He-he!" 
 
 When the hour for retiring came, Esther
 
 120 EPHIRAM'S BOLD STROKE. 
 
 brought out her favorite " rising sun " quilt, 
 a present from her long dead mistress, piled 
 her bed high with pillows filled with the outer 
 covering of many sacrificed fowls, then she 
 and her foxy little spouse retired to the lesser 
 comforts of the shed-room to await develop 
 ments. 
 
 Sunday dawned soft and balmy, as only a 
 spring day in the south can dawn, the people 
 flocked to hear the eloquent preacher, the 
 service opened and progressed favorably, the 
 singing was loud and hearty, and the contri 
 bution plate made the voyage of the church 
 and returned decently filled. Then the dea 
 cons retired to their seats and the preacher 
 prepared to open his sermon. 
 
 There was a rustle of excitement and ex 
 pectancy. Through the open door and win 
 dows the sweet spring air floated, mingling 
 with the odor of peppermint and other rank 
 smelling " meetin' house draps " with which 
 the people love to anoint themselves on state
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 121 
 
 occasions. There were many hearty and 
 approving " amens," " bless gawds" and 
 " dat's de shinin' trufe's," as the speaker 
 proceeded. He spoke eloquently of the sins 
 of people generally, then swiftly narrowed 
 down to the luckless people present. 
 
 Br'er Jones, Sis' Phoeby, Deacon Gibbs all 
 received the scoring treasured up for them, 
 and many others came in for like attentions. 
 Then the preacher's wandering eye rested on 
 Eph sitting meekly beside his anxious spouse, 
 he recalled the delicious beer, cool and pun 
 gent, with which Esther had so generously 
 regaled him, the toothsome stew and appetiz 
 ing chicken that had been so lavishly served 
 for his delectation, and his awful eye softened 
 to kindness as it passed on. 
 
 When old Eph returned to his cabin that 
 day he retired to the privacy of his shed- 
 room, where he relieved his pent up emotions 
 in bursts of silent laughter and many queer 
 contortions of his gnarled old person. It was
 
 122 EPHIRAM'S BOLD STROKE. 
 
 a close call Eph realized, and as he slid 
 about the woods he more than once congrat 
 ulated himself upon his bold stroke of diplo 
 macy.
 
 H fioodoed Seven. 
 
 
 
 D Ira was happy. For the seventh 
 time he was about to enter the 
 bonds of the holy state, and 
 though having had an experience 
 extending over a reign of serval 
 different women, he had not been 
 as many times widowed. 
 
 Old Ira was reputed a hard man to live with. 
 The first woman found this condition true 
 aud left him unceremoniously, taking up with 
 a yellow turkey driver from North Carolina 
 and travelling back with him to his native 
 state after he had disposed of his feathered 
 wares. 
 
 The next two died, and their sucessors, 
 Ira had simply " put down ," finding them 
 
 13}
 
 124 A HOODOED SEVEN. 
 
 a bit too high-handed and independent for 
 his taste, as his soul loathed a " biggoty 
 'ooman." 
 
 But nothing daunted by his hymenial mis 
 adventures he was about to run into the 
 matrimonial noose even for the seventh time. 
 
 "For," he reasoned, "didn't dem angels 
 blow dem bugles seven times in de woods 
 'roun' Jericko, an' didn't de good Lawd s'pos- 
 tulate dem sinners seben times ? " This 
 reasoning seemed good to the old man ; 
 though his scriptural locations might not be 
 exactly accurate, his mind was clear on the 
 numerical point, for might not seven be his 
 magical winning number in matrimony as 
 well as craps ? 
 
 His last and present choice was a strapp 
 ing girl of twenty, with big rolling eyes and 
 flashing teeth, as full of life and spirits 
 as Ira was old, twisted and shrivelled by 
 time and rheumatism. 
 
 There was some complications, however,
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 125 
 
 regarding the match, as the bride-elect expec 
 ted to espouse quite another groom than Ira, 
 but the old man laid his plans without refer 
 ence as to what her feelings might be in the 
 least. 
 
 For was not he, the owner, if only by 
 " squatter " rights of a one room cabin, a bit 
 of tillable land and a small hay-colored don 
 key even though these proud possessions 
 were in the final stages of dilapidation and 
 decrepitude a better match than a " horse 
 boy " of the straggling villiage, possessing 
 nothing but a non-descript costume of looped 
 and windowed raggedness, and the few stray 
 nickles he could come by, holding horses and 
 other sundry errands? 
 
 Ira was no blunderer in the reading of 
 human nature, especially woman nature, and 
 though he was weazened and old, rheumatic 
 and of ill repute, his worldly goods would out 
 weigh youth and good looks when weighed 
 in the balance of a woman's estimation.
 
 126 A HOODOED SEVEN. 
 
 But the wily old fox did not trust entirely 
 to his own personal persuasiveness or that of 
 his worldly possessions. The day before his 
 rival's wedding was to be celebrated, he ap 
 proached the groom elect, who found his 
 reasoning so convincing or his eloquence so 
 persuasive, that when Ira left him, it was 
 with all the rights, lock and stock of Dick to 
 wed the buxon Silvy, verbally vested in con 
 sideration of one gallon jug of new corn 
 whisky and a bright silver dollar. Ira de 
 livered the whisky on the spot, and promised 
 to pay the dollar after the knot was finaly 
 tied, and fully satisfied, Dick dismissed the 
 bartered bride, Ira and all worldly consider 
 ations from his mind, and proceeded to float 
 among the joys of that Elysium produced by 
 potations unlimited of the pearly corn fluid. 
 
 And Ira was correct, for when Silvy un 
 derstood that Dick was reluctant, her con 
 sent was at once transferred to her old gal 
 lant, and the name of Ira was written in the
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 127 
 
 license where that of Dick should have been. 
 
 The day following the wedding, the newly 
 made Benedick might have been observed 
 engaged in a very curious occupation. 
 Down on the river-bank, where the swamp 
 willows grew tall and lithe, old Ira rustled, 
 cutting with diligence the toughest switches, 
 and as he cut and tested he muttered to him 
 self : 
 
 " I'm gwyne down de ribber bank honey, toe 
 cut some switches fer toe mek dem cotton 
 baskets outen. He-he ! Gall gwyne fin' out 
 what sort'er cotton basket I'm gwyne mek 
 outer dem switches. 'Ooman lak dawg, jess 
 nachelly bleeged toe beat 'em. Um hum ! " 
 
 But Ira had unconsciously arrived at a 
 time when his worldly philosophy was to fail 
 him, and his trust in the lucky seven play 
 him false. Yet this morning he was happy, 
 the air was balmy, the sun shone ardently 
 down, but the willows were thick and cast a 
 dim shade over the yellow river, rippling
 
 128 A HOODOED SEVEN. 
 
 softly, whispering of the many schools of cat 
 fish that lurked along its reedy channels, 
 and above all, he had provided a pair of 
 strong young arms to till his "gyarden patch" 
 and grub his lightwood knots for the future, 
 leaving him ample time to enjoy the shade 
 of the willows and entice the toothsome little 
 channel cats form their reedy hiding places. 
 But Ira was reckoning without his wife for 
 whose sole benefit he was so busily cutting 
 the slender rods. He had reckoned without 
 her consent on the first occasion and all had 
 gone well, but alas, now the tide was to run 
 the other way. He carried his switches home 
 indeed, but it was not Silvy's back that felt 
 the smart ; his " gyarden patch " was tilled 
 and the hearth was always filled with knots 
 of pine, but it was not Silvy's shapely yellow 
 hands that did the work, and from being 
 lord of all he surveyed and master of his 
 own little kingdom, Ira learned what it was 
 to taste the bitterness of unwilling surf- 
 dom.
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 1 29 
 
 But though Ira was beaten, he was by no 
 means conquered and while he was as wax 
 in his wife's strong hands, and his fear of 
 her big, shiny eyes passed his understanding, 
 his will and cunning still remained. His 
 wits worked nimbly and one morning, when 
 Silvy had tied up her dress skirts, taken her 
 fishing rods and started for the river, his 
 plans were quickly put into execution. 
 
 Harnessing the little donkey, he gathered 
 his goods and chattels into one hastily pack 
 ed load, and while his wife walked leisurely 
 toward the river, Ira drove hastily down the 
 road in the opposite direction. All day and 
 all night he trudged beside his little load of 
 worldly goods that had brought him a wife 
 indeed, but also a world of trouble, and when 
 the next day dawned, weary and footsore he 
 rested in the edge of the woods tethering the 
 mule to his load for safety, and such profound 
 sleep overpowered him, that he lay uncon 
 scious of the fleeting hours.
 
 130 A HOODOED SEVEN. 
 
 The sun was high when he woke with a 
 start, and sat upright as quickly as his crip 
 pled old limbs would allow. Did his vision 
 also play him false ? Standing beside the 
 load to which the donkey was already har 
 nessed and facing homeward, was his yellow 
 Nemesis, taller, bigger and more buxom it 
 seemed to Ira, than she had ever looked be 
 fore. 
 
 He made no objection to her peremptory 
 order for a backward march, and hungry and 
 footsore, he trudged behind, the weary dis 
 tance he had covered so briskly the day and 
 night before. 
 
 The garden patch is perfectly tilled and all 
 about the cabin speaks of work well done. 
 Ira still cuts willow switches from the river 
 bank, but they are smaller and more flexible, 
 suitable entirely for the basket making in 
 dustry. His faith in the number seven as a 
 lucky cast is dead, and though he sings at
 
 SOUTHERN ECHOES. 131 
 
 his work, there is in the tones of his reedy 
 old voice a different note. Sometimes it is 
 plaintive, especially when he sings his favor 
 ite song : 
 
 "I'm gwyne back I'm gwyne back ! 
 Back toe meh deah ol' south'en home ! 
 I'm gwine I'm gwyne back 
 Where money hang lak apples on de vine."
 
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