'm_ gwine git you, en you'll fin' me wusser 'n de patteroles. Des hol'
on a minute, en I'll sprinkle you wid some er dis mixtry out'n dis yer
bottle, so de patteroles can't see you, en you kin rub yo' feet wid some
er dis yer grease out'n dis go'd, so you kin run fas', en rub some un it
on yo' eyes so you kin see in de da'k; en den you mus' fin' dat noo
nigger en gib 'im dis yer 'tater, er you gwine ter hab mo' trouble on
yo' ban's 'n you eber had befo' in yo' life er eber will hab sence.'
"So Solomon tuk de sweet'n' 'tater en sta'ted up de road fas' ez he
could go, en befo' long he retch' town. He went right 'long by de
patteroles, en dey did n' 'pear ter notice 'im, en bimeby he foun' whar
de strange nigger was kep', en he walked right pas' de gyard at de do'
en foun' 'im. De nigger could n' see 'im, ob co'se, en he could n' 'a'
seed de nigger in de da'k, ef it had n' be'n fer de stuff Aun' Peggy gun
'im ter rub on 'is eyes. De nigger wuz layin' in a co'nder, 'sleep, en
Solomon des slip' up ter 'im, en hilt dat sweet'n' 'tater 'fo' de
nigger's nose, en he des nach'ly retch' up wid his han', en tuk de
'tater en eat it in his sleep, widout knowin' it. Wen Solomon seed he 'd
done eat de 'tater, he went back en tol' Aun' Peggy, en den went home
ter his cabin ter sleep, 'way 'long 'bout two o'clock in de mawnin'.
"De nex' day wuz Sunday, en so de niggers had a little time ter
deyse'ves. Solomon wuz kinder 'sturb' in his min' thinkin' 'bout his
junesey w'at 'uz gone away, en wond'rin' w'at Aun' Peggy had ter do wid
dat noo nigger; en he had sa'ntered up in de woods so 's ter be by
hisse'f a little, en at de same time ter look atter a rabbit-trap he'd
sot down in de aidge er de swamp, w'en who sh'd he see stan'in' unner a
tree but a w'ite man.
"Solomon did n' knowed de w'ite man at fus', 'tel de w'ite man spoke up
ter 'im.
"'Is dat you, Solomon?' sezee.
"Den Solomon reco'nized de voice.
"'Fer de Lawd's sake, Mars Jeems! is dat you?'
"'Yas, Solomon,' sez his marster, 'dis is me, er w'at's lef er me.'
"It wa'n't no wonder Solomon had n' knowed Mars Jeems at fus', fer he
wuz dress' lack a po' w'ite man, en wuz barefooted, en look' monst'us
pale en peaked, ez ef he'd des come th'oo a ha'd spell er sickness.
"'You er lookin' kinder po'ly, Mars Jeems,' sez Solomon. 'Is you be'n
sick, suh?'
"'No, Solomon,' sez Mars Jeems, shakin' his head, en speakin' sorter
slow en sad, 'I ain' be'n sick, but I's had a monst'us bad dream,--fac',
a reg'lar, nach'ul nightmare. But tell me how things has be'n gwine on
up ter de plantation sence I be'n gone, Solomon.'
"So Solomon up en tol' 'im 'bout de craps, en 'bout de hosses en de
mules, en 'bout de cows en de hawgs. En w'en he 'mence' ter tell 'bout
de noo nigger, Mars Jeems prick' up 'is yeahs en listen', en eve'y now
en den he 'd say, 'Uh huh! uh huh!' en nod 'is head. En bimeby, w'en
he'd ax' Solomon some mo' queshtuns, he sez, sezee:--
"'Now, Solomon, I doan want you ter say a wo'd ter nobody 'bout meetin'
me heah, but I wants you ter slip up ter de house, en fetch me some
clo's en some shoes,--I fergot ter tell you dat a man rob' me back
yander on de road en swap' clo's wid me widout axin' me whuther er
no,--but you neenter say nuffin 'bout dat, nuther. You go en fetch me
some clo's heah, so nobody won't see you, en keep yo' mouf shet, en I
'll gib you a dollah.'
"Solomon wuz so 'stonish' he lack ter fell ober in his tracks, w'en Mars
Jeems promus' ter gib 'im a dollah. Dey su't'nly wuz a change come ober
Mars Jeems, w'en he offer' one er his niggers dat much money. Solomon
'mence' ter 'spec' dat Aun' Peggy's cunj'ation had be'n wukkin' monst'us
strong.
"Solomon fotch Mars Jeems some clo's en shoes, en dat same eb'nin' Mars
Jeems 'peared at de house, en let on lack he des dat minute got home fum
Robeson County. Mars Johnson was all ready ter talk ter 'im, but Mars
Jeems sont 'im wo'd he wa'n't feelin' ve'y well dat night, en he'd see
'im ter-morrer.
"So nex' mawnin' atter breakfus' Mars Jeems sont fer de oberseah, en ax'
'im fer ter gib 'count er his styoa'dship. Ole Nick tol' Mars Jeems how
much wuk be'n done, en got de books en showed 'im how much money be'n
save'. Den Mars Jeems ax' 'im how de darkies be'n behabin', en Mars
Johnson say dey be'n behabin' good, most un 'em, en dem w'at did n'
behabe good at fus' change dey conduc' atter he got holt un 'em a time
er two.
"'All,' sezee, ''cep'n' de noo nigger Mistah Dunkin fotch ober heah en
lef on trial, w'iles you wuz gone.'
"'Oh, yas,' 'lows Mars Jeems, 'tell me all 'bout dat noo nigger. I
heared a little 'bout dat quare noo nigger las' night, en it wuz des too
rediklus. Tell me all 'bout dat noo nigger.'
"So seein' Mars Jeems so good-na-chu'd 'bout it, Mars Johnson up en tol'
'im how he tied up de noo ban' de fus' day en gun 'im fo'ty 'ca'se he
would n' tell 'im 'is name.
"'Ha, ha, ha!' sez Mars Jeems, laffin' fit ter kill, 'but dat is too
funny fer any use. Tell me some mo' 'bout dat noo nigger.'
"So Mars Johnson went on en tol' 'im how he had ter starbe de noo nigger
'fo' he could make 'im take holt er a hoe.
"'Dat wuz de beatinis' notion fer a nigger,' sez Mars Jeems, 'puttin'
on airs, des lack he wuz a w'ite man! En I reckon you did n' do nuffin
ter 'im?'
"'Oh, no, suh,' sez de oberseah, grinnin' lack a chessy-cat, 'I did n'
do nuffin but take de hide off'n 'im.'
"Mars Jeems lafft en lafft, 'tel it 'peared lack he wuz des gwine ter
bu'st. '_Tell_ me some mo' 'bout dat noo nigger, oh, _tell_ me some mo'.
Dat noo nigger int'rusts me, he do, en dat is a fac'.'
"Mars Johnson did n' quite un'erstan' w'y Mars Jeems sh'd make sich a
great 'miration 'bout de noo nigger, but co'se he want' ter please de
gent'eman w'at hi'ed 'im, en so he 'splain' all 'bout how many times he
had ter cowhide de noo nigger, en how he made 'im do tasks twicet ez big
ez some er de yuther han's, en how he 'd chain 'im up in de ba'n at
night en feed 'im on co'n-bread en water.
"'Oh! but you is a monst'us good oberseah; you is de bes' oberseah in
dis county, Mistah Johnson,' sez Mars Jeems, w'en de oberseah got th'oo
wid his tale; 'en dey ain' nebber be'n no nigger-breaker lack you roun'
heah befo'. En you desarbes great credit fer sendin' dat nigger 'way
befo' you sp'ilt 'im fer de market. Fac', you is sech a monst'us good
oberseah, en you is got dis yer plantation in sech fine shape, dat I
reckon I doan need you no mo'. You is got dese yer darkies so well
train' dat I 'spec' I kin run 'em myse'f fum dis time on. But I does
wush you had 'a' hilt on ter dat noo nigger 'tel I got home, fer I 'd
'a' lack ter 'a' seed 'im, I su't'nly should.'
"De oberseah wuz so 'stonish' he did n' ha'dly know w'at ter say, but
fin'lly he ax' Mars Jeems ef he would n' gib'im a riccommen' fer ter git
ernudder place.
"'No, suh,' sez Mars Jeems, 'somehow er 'nuther I doan lack yo' looks
sence I come back dis time, en I'd much ruther you would n' stay roun'
heah. Fac', I's feared ef I 'd meet you alone in de woods some time, I
mought wanter ha'm you. But layin' dat aside, I be'n lookin' ober dese
yer books er yo'n w'at you kep' w'iles I wuz 'way, en fer a yeah er so
back, en dere's some figgers w'at ain' des cl'ar ter me. I ain' got no
time fer ter talk 'bout 'em now, but I 'spec' befo' I settles wid you
fer dis las' mont', you better come up heah ter-morrer, atter I's look'
de books en 'counts ober some mo', en den we'll straighten ou' business
all up.'
"Mars Jeems 'lowed atterwa'ds dat he wuz des shootin' in de da'k w'en he
said dat 'bout de books, but howsomeber, Mars Nick Johnson lef dat
naberhood 'twix' de nex' two suns, en nobody roun' dere nebber seed hide
ner hair un 'im sence. En all de darkies t'ank de Lawd, en 'lowed it
wuz a good riddance er bad rubbage.
"But all dem things I done tol' you ain' nuffin 'side'n de change w'at
come ober Mars Jeems fum dat time on. Aun' Peggy's goopher had made a
noo man un 'im enti'ely. De nex' day atter he come back, he tol' de
han's dey neenter wuk on'y fum sun ter sun, en he cut dey tasks down so
dey did n' nobody hab ter stan' ober 'em wid a rawhide er a hick'ry. En
he 'lowed ef de niggers want ter hab a dance in de big ba'n any Sad'day
night, dey mought hab it. En bimeby, w'en Solomon seed how good Mars
Jeems wuz, he ax' 'im ef he would n' please sen' down ter de yuther
plantation fer his junesey. Mars Jeems say su't'nly, en gun Solomon a
pass en a note ter de oberseah on de yuther plantation, en sont Solomon
down ter Robeson County wid a hoss en buggy fer ter fetch his junesey
back. Wen de niggers see how fine Mars Jeems gwine treat 'em, dey all
tuk ter sweethea'tin' en juneseyin' en singin' en dancin', en eight er
ten couples got married, en bimeby eve'ybody 'mence' ter say Mars Jeems
McLean got a finer plantation, en slicker-lookin' niggers, en dat he 'uz
makin' mo' cotton en co'n, dan any yuther gent'eman in de county. En
Mars Jeems's own junesey, Miss Libbie, heared 'bout de noo gwines-on on
Mars Jeems's plantation, en she change' her min' 'bout Mars Jeems en tuk
'im back ag'in, en 'fo' long dey had a fine weddin', en all de darkies
had a big feas', en dey wuz fiddlin' en dancin' en funnin' en frolic'in'
fum sundown 'tel mawnin'."
"And they all lived happy ever after," I said, as the old man reached a
full stop.
"Yas, suh," he said, interpreting my remarks as a question, "dey did.
Solomon useter say," he added, "dat Aun' Peggy's goopher had turnt Mars
Jeems ter a nigger, en dat dat noo ban' wuz Mars Jeems hisse'f. But
co'se Solomon did n' das' ter let on 'bout w'at he 'spicioned, en ole
Aun' Peggy would 'a' 'nied it ef she had be'n ax', fer she 'd 'a' got in
trouble sho', ef it 'uz knowed she 'd be'n cunj'in' de w'ite folks.
"Dis yer tale goes ter show," concluded Julius sententiously, as the man
came up and announced that the spring was ready for us to get water,
"dat w'ite folks w'at is so ha'd en stric', en doan make no 'lowance fer
po' ign'ant niggers w'at ain' had no chanst ter l'arn, is li'ble ter hab
bad dreams, ter say de leas', en dat dem w'at is kin' en good ter po'
people is sho' ter prosper en git 'long in de worl'."
"That is a very strange story, Uncle Julius," observed my wife, smiling,
"and Solomon's explanation is quite improbable."
"Yes, Julius," said I, "that was powerful goopher. I am glad, too, that
you told us the moral of the story; it might have escaped us otherwise.
By the way, did you make that up all by yourself?"
The old man's face assumed an injured look, expressive more of sorrow
than of anger, and shaking his head he replied:--
"No, suh, I heared dat tale befo' you er Mis' Annie dere wuz bawn, suh.
My mammy tol' me dat tale w'en I wa'n't mo' d'n knee-high ter a
hopper-grass."
I drove to town next morning, on some business, and did not return until
noon; and after dinner I had to visit a neighbor, and did not get back
until supper-time. I was smoking a cigar on the back piazza in the early
evening, when I saw a familiar figure carrying a bucket of water to the
barn. I called my wife.
"My dear," I said severely, "what is that rascal doing here? I thought
I discharged him yesterday for good and all."
"Oh, yes," she answered, "I forgot to tell you. He was hanging round the
place all the morning, and looking so down in the mouth, that I told him
that if he would try to do better, we would give him one more chance. He
seems so grateful, and so really in earnest in his promises of
amendment, that I'm sure you'll not regret taking him back."
I was seriously enough annoyed to let my cigar go out. I did not share
my wife's rose-colored hopes in regard to Tom; but as I did not wish the
servants to think there was any conflict of authority in the household,
I let the boy stay.
THE CONJURER'S REVENGE
Sunday was sometimes a rather dull day at our place. In the morning,
when the weather was pleasant, my wife and I would drive to town, a
distance of about five miles, to attend the church of our choice. The
afternoons we spent at home, for the most part, occupying ourselves with
the newspapers and magazines, and the contents of a fairly good library.
We had a piano in the house, on which my wife played with skill and
feeling. I possessed a passable baritone voice, and could accompany
myself indifferently well when my wife was not by to assist me. When
these resources failed us, we were apt to find it a little dull.
One Sunday afternoon in early spring,--the balmy spring of North
Carolina, when the air is in that ideal balance between heat and cold
where one wishes it could always remain,--my wife and I were seated on
the front piazza, she wearily but conscientiously ploughing through a
missionary report, while I followed the impossible career of the blonde
heroine of a rudimentary novel. I had thrown the book aside in disgust,
when I saw Julius coming through the yard, under the spreading elms,
which were already in full leaf. He wore his Sunday clothes, and
advanced with a dignity of movement quite different from his week-day
slouch.
"Have a seat, Julius," I said, pointing to an empty rocking-chair.
"No, thanky, boss, I'll des set here on de top step."
"Oh, no, Uncle Julius," exclaimed Annie, "take this chair. You will find
it much more comfortable."
The old man grinned in appreciation of her solicitude, and seated
himself somewhat awkwardly.
"Julius," I remarked, "I am thinking of setting out scuppernong vines on
that sand-hill where the three persimmon-trees are; and while I'm
working there, I think I'll plant watermelons between the vines, and
get a little something to pay for my first year's work. The new railroad
will be finished by the middle of summer, and I can ship the melons
North, and get a good price for them."
"Ef you er gwine ter hab any mo' ploughin' ter do," replied Julius, "I
'spec' you'll ha' ter buy ernudder creetur, 'ca'se hit's much ez dem
hosses kin do ter 'ten' ter de wuk dey got now."
"Yes, I had thought of that. I think I'll get a mule; a mule can do
more work, and doesn't require as much attention as a horse."
"I would n' 'vise you ter buy no mule," remarked Julius, with a shake
of his head.
"Why not?"
"Well, you may 'low hit's all foolis'ness, but ef I wuz in yo' place, I
would n' buy no mule."
"But that isn't a reason; what objection have you to a mule?"
"Fac' is," continued the old man, in a serious tone, "I doan lack ter
dribe a mule. I 's alluz afeared I mought be imposin' on some human
creetur; eve'y time I cuts a mule wid a hick'ry, 'pears ter me mos'
lackly I's cuttin' some er my own relations, er somebody e'se w'at can't
he'p deyse'ves."
"What put such an absurd idea into your head?" I asked.
My question was followed by a short silence, during which Julius seemed
engaged in a mental struggle.
"I dunno ez hit's wuf w'ile ter tell you dis," he said, at length. "I
doan ha'dly 'spec' fer you ter b'lieve it. Does you 'member dat
club-footed man w'at hilt de hoss fer you de yuther day w'en you was
gittin' out'n de rockaway down ter Mars Archie McMillan's sto'?"
"Yes, I believe I do remember seeing a club-footed man there."
"Did you eber see a club-footed nigger befo' er sence?"
"No, I can't remember that I ever saw a club-footed colored man," I
replied, after a moment's reflection.
"You en Mis' Annie would n' wanter b'lieve me, ef I wuz ter 'low dat dat
man was oncet a mule?"
"No," I replied, "I don't think it very likely that you could make us
believe it."
"Why, Uncle Julius!" said Annie severely, "what ridiculous nonsense!"
This reception of the old man's statement reduced him to silence, and it
required some diplomacy on my part to induce him to vouchsafe an
explanation. The prospect of a long, dull afternoon was not alluring,
and I was glad to have the monotony of Sabbath quiet relieved by a
plantation legend.
"W'en I wuz a young man," began Julius, when I had finally prevailed
upon him to tell us the story, "dat club-footed nigger--his name is
Primus--use' ter b'long ter ole Mars Jim McGee ober on de Lumbe'ton
plank-road. I use' ter go ober dere ter see a 'oman w'at libbed on de
plantation; dat 's how I come ter know all erbout it. Dis yer Primus wuz
de livelies' han' on de place, alluz a-dancin', en drinkin', en runnin'
roun', en singin', en pickin' de banjo; 'cep'n' once in a w'ile, w'en he
'd 'low he wa'n't treated right 'bout sump'n ernudder, he'd git so sulky
en stubborn dat de w'ite folks could n' ha'dly do nuffin wid 'im.
"It wuz 'gin' de rules fer any er de han's ter go 'way fum de
plantation at night; but Primus did n' min' de rules, en went w'en he
felt lack it; en de w'ite folks purten' lack dey did n' know it, fer
Primus was dange'ous w'en he got in dem stubborn spells, en dey 'd
ruther not fool wid 'im.
"One night in de spring er de year, Primus slip' off fum de plantation,
en went down on de Wim'l'ton Road ter a dance gun by some er de free
niggers down dere. Dey wuz a fiddle, en a banjo, en a jug gwine roun' on
de outside, en Primus sung en dance' 'tel 'long 'bout two o'clock in de
mawnin', w'en he start' fer home. Ez he come erlong back, he tuk a
nigh-cut 'cross de cottonfiel's en 'long by de aidge er de Min'al Spring
Swamp, so ez ter git shet er de patteroles w'at rid up en down de big
road fer ter keep de darkies fum runnin' roun' nights. Primus was
sa'nt'rin' 'long, studyin' 'bout de good time he 'd had wid de gals,
w'en, ez he wuz gwine by a fence co'nder, w'at sh'd he heah but sump'n
grunt. He stopped a minute ter listen, en he heared sump'n grunt ag'in.
Den he went ober ter de fence whar he heard de fuss, en dere, layin' in
de fence co'nder, on a pile er pine straw, he seed a fine, fat shote.
"Primus look' ha'd at de shote, en den sta'ted home. But somehow er
'nudder he could n' git away fum dat shote; w'en he tuk one step
for'ards wid one foot, de yuther foot 'peared ter take two steps
back'ards, en so he kep' nachly gittin' closeter en closeter ter de
shote. It was de beatin'es' thing! De shote des 'peared ter cha'm
Primus, en fus' thing you know Primus foun' hisse'f 'way up de road wid
de shote on his back.
"Ef Primus had 'a' knowed whose shote dat wuz, he 'd 'a' manage' ter git
pas' it somehow er 'nudder. Ez it happen', de shote b'long ter a cunjuh
man w'at libbed down in de free-nigger sett'ement. Co'se de cunjuh man
did n' hab ter wuk his roots but a little w'ile 'fo' he foun' out who
tuk his shote, en den de trouble begun. One mawnin', a day er so later,
en befo' he got de shote eat up, Primus did n' go ter wuk w'en de hawn
blow, en w'en de oberseah wen' ter look fer him, dey wa' no trace er
Primus ter be 'skivered nowhar. W'en he did n' come back in a day er so
mo', eve'ybody on de plantation 'lowed he had runned erway. His marster
a'vertise' him in de papers, en offered a big reward fer 'im. De
nigger-ketchers fotch out dey dogs, en track' 'im down ter de aidge er
de swamp, en den de scent gun out; en dat was de las' anybody seed er
Primus fer a long, long time.
"Two er th'ee weeks atter Primus disappear', his marster went ter town
one Sad'day. Mars Jim was stan'in' in front er Sandy Campbell's
bar-room, up by de ole wagon-ya'd, w'en a po' w'ite man fum down on de
Wim'l'ton Road come up ter 'im en ax' 'im, kinder keerless lack, ef he
did n' wanter buy a mule.
"'I dunno,' says Mars Jim; 'it 'pen's on de mule, en on de price. Whar
is de mule?'
"'Des 'roun' heah back er ole Tom McAllister's sto',' says de po' w'ite
man.
"'I reckon I'll hab a look at de mule,' says Mars Jim, 'en ef he suit
me, I dunno but w'at I mought buy 'im.'
"So de po' w'ite man tuk Mars Jim 'roun' back er de sto', en dere stood
a monst'us fine mule. W'en de mule see Mars Jim, he gun a whinny, des
lack he knowed him befo'. Mars Jim look' at de mule, en de mule 'peared
ter be soun' en strong. Mars Jim 'lowed dey 'peared ter be sump'n
fermilyus 'bout de mule's face, 'spesh'ly his eyes; but he had n' los'
naer mule, en did n' hab no recommemb'ance er habin' seed de mule befo'.
He ax' de po' buckrah whar he got de mule, en de po' buckrah say his
brer raise' de mule down on Rockfish Creek. Mars Jim was a little
s'picious er seein' a po' w'ite man wid sech a fine creetur, but he
fin'lly 'greed ter gib de man fifty dollars fer de mule,--'bout ha'f
w'at a good mule was wuf dem days.
"He tied de mule behin' de buggy w'en he went home, en put 'im ter
ploughin' cotton de nex' day. De mule done mighty well fer th'ee er fo'
days, en den de niggers 'mence' ter notice some quare things erbout him.
Dey wuz a medder on de plantation whar dey use' ter put de hosses en
mules ter pastur'. Hit was fence' off fum de cornfiel' on one side, but
on de yuther side'n de pastur' was a terbacker-patch w'at wa'n't fence'
off, 'ca'se de beastisses doan none un 'em eat terbacker. Dey doan know
w'at 's good! Terbacker is lack religion, de good Lawd made it fer
people, en dey ain' no yuther creetur w'at kin 'preciate it. De darkies
notice' dat de fus' thing de new mule done, w'en he was turnt inter de
pastur', wuz ter make fer de terbacker-patch. Co'se dey didn' think
nuffin un it, but nex' mawnin', w'en dey went ter ketch 'im, dey
'skivered dat he had eat up two whole rows er terbacker plants. Atter
dat dey had ter put a halter on 'im, en tie 'im ter a stake, er e'se dey
would n' 'a' been naer leaf er terbacker lef' in de patch.
"Ernudder day one er de han's, name' 'Dolphus, hitch' de mule up, en
dribe up here ter dis yer vimya'd,--dat wuz w'en ole Mars Dugal' own'
dis place. Mars Dugal' had kilt a yearlin', en de naber w'ite folks all
sont ober fer ter git some fraish beef, en Mars Jim had sont 'Dolphus
fer some too. Dey wuz a winepress in de ya'd whar 'Dolphus lef' de mule
a-stan'in', en right in front er de press dey wuz a tub er grape-juice,
des pressed out, en a little ter one side a bairl erbout half full er
wine w'at had be'n stan'in' two er th'ee days, en had begun ter git
sorter sha'p ter de tas'e. Dey wuz a couple er bo'ds on top er dis yer
bairl, wid a rock laid on 'em ter hol' 'em down. Ez I wuz a-sayin',
'Dolphus lef' de mule stan'in' in de ya'd, en went inter de smoke-house
fer ter git de beef. Bimeby, w'en he come out, he seed de mule
a-stagg'rin' 'bout de ya'd; en 'fo' 'Dolphus could git dere ter fin' out
w'at wuz de matter, de mule fell right ober on his side, en laid dere
des' lack he was dead.
"All de niggers 'bout de house run out dere fer ter see w'at wuz de
matter. Some say de mule had de colic; some say one thing en some
ernudder; 'tel bimeby one er de han's seed de top wuz off'n de bairl, en
run en looked in.
"'Fo' de Lawd!' he say, 'dat mule drunk! he be'n drinkin' de wine.' En
sho' 'nuff, de mule had pas' right by de tub er fraish grape-juice en
push' de kiver off'n de bairl, en drunk two er th'ee gallon er de wine
w'at had been stan'in' long ernough fer ter begin ter git sha'p.
"De darkies all made a great 'miration 'bout de mule gittin' drunk. Dey
never had n' seed nuffin lack it in dey bawn days. Dey po'd water ober
de mule, en tried ter sober 'im up; but it wa'n't no use, en 'Dolphus
had ter take de beef home on his back, en leabe de mule dere, 'tel he
slep' off 'is spree.
"I doan 'member whe'r I tol' you er no, but w'en Primus disappear' fum
de plantation, he lef' a wife behin' 'im,--a monst'us good-lookin'
yaller gal, name' Sally. W'en Primus had be'n gone a mont' er so, Sally
'mence' fer ter git lonesome, en tuk up wid ernudder young man name'
Dan, w'at b'long' on de same plantation. One day dis yer Dan tuk de noo
mule out in de cotton-fiel' fer ter plough, en w'en dey wuz gwine 'long
de tu'n-row, who sh'd he meet but dis yer Sally. Dan look' 'roun' en he
did n' see de oberseah nowhar, so he stop' a minute fer ter run on wid
Sally.
"'Hoddy, honey,' sezee. 'How you feelin' dis mawnin'?'
"'Fus' rate,' 'spon' Sally.
"Dey wuz lookin' at one ernudder, en dey did n' naer one un 'em pay no
'tention ter de mule, who had turnt 'is head 'roun' en wuz lookin' at
Sally ez ha'd ez he could, en stretchin' 'is neck en raisin' 'is years,
en whinnyin' kinder sof' ter hisse'f.
"'Yas, honey,' 'lows Dan, 'en you gwine ter feel fus' rate long ez you
sticks ter me. Fer I's a better man dan dat low-down runaway nigger
Primus dat you be'n wastin' yo' time wid.'
"Dan had let go de plough-handle, en had put his arm 'roun' Sally, en
wuz des gwine ter kiss her, w'en sump'n ketch' 'im by de scruff er de
neck en flung 'im 'way ober in de cotton-patch. W'en he pick' 'isse'f
up, Sally had gone kitin' down de tu'n-row, en de mule wuz stan'in' dere
lookin' ez ca'm en peaceful ez a Sunday mawnin'.
"Fus' Dan had 'lowed it wuz de oberseah w'at had cotch' 'im wastin' 'is
time. But dey wa'n't no oberseah in sight, so he 'cluded it must 'a'
be'n de mule. So he pitch' inter de mule en lammed 'im ez ha'd ez he
could. De mule tuk it all, en 'peared ter be ez 'umble ez a mule could
be; but w'en dey wuz makin' de turn at de een' er de row, one er de
plough-lines got under de mule's hin' leg. Dan retch' down ter git de
line out, sorter keerless like, w'en de mule haul' off en kick him clean
ober de fence inter a brier-patch on de yuther side.