did n' do no good, en none un 'em could n' git Dilsey fer dey
junesey,[3] 'tel Dave 'mence' fer ter go roun' Aun' Mahaly's cabin. Dey
wuz a fine-lookin' couple, Dave en Dilsey wuz, bofe tall, en
well-shape', en soopl'. En dey sot a heap by one ernudder. Mars Dugal'
seed 'em tergedder one Sunday, en de nex' time he seed Dave atter dat,
sezee:--
"'Dave, w'en yer en Dilsey gits ready fer ter git married, I ain' got no
rejections. Dey's a poun' er so er chawin'-terbacker up at de house, en
I reckon yo' mist'iss kin fine a frock en a ribbin er two fer Dilsey.
Youer bofe good niggers, en yer neenter be feared er bein' sol' 'way fum
one ernudder long ez I owns dis plantation; en I 'spec's ter own it fer
a long time yit.'
[Footnote 3: Sweetheart.]
"But dere wuz one man on de plantation w'at did n' lack ter see Dave en
Dilsey tergedder ez much ez ole marster did. W'en Mars Dugal' went ter
de sale whar he got Dilsey en Mahaly, he bought ernudder ban', by de
name er Wiley. Wiley wuz one er dese yer shiny-eyed, double-headed
little niggers, sha'p ez a steel trap, en sly ez de fox w'at keep out'n
it. Dis yer Wiley had be'n pesterin' Dilsey 'fo' she come ter our
plantation, en had nigh 'bout worried de life out'n her. She did n' keer
nuffin fer 'im, but he pestered her so she ha' ter th'eaten ter tell her
marster fer ter make Wiley let her 'lone. W'en he come ober to our place
it wuz des ez bad, 'tel bimeby Wiley seed dat Dilsey had got ter
thinkin' a heap 'bout Dave, en den he sorter hilt off aw'ile, en purten'
lack he gin Dilsey up. But he wuz one er dese yer 'ceitful niggers, en
w'ile he wuz laffin' en jokin' wid de yuther ban's 'bout Dave en Dilsey,
he wuz settin' a trap fer ter ketch Dave en git Dilsey back fer hisse'f.
"Dave en Dilsey made up dere min's fer ter git married long 'bout
Christmas time, w'en dey 'd hab mo' time fer a weddin'. But 'long 'bout
two weeks befo' dat time ole mars 'mence' ter lose a heap er bacon.
Eve'y night er so somebody 'ud steal a side er bacon, er a ham, er a
shoulder, er sump'n, fum one er de smoke-'ouses. De smoke-'ouses wuz
lock', but somebody had a key, en manage' ter git in some way er 'nudder.
Dey 's mo' ways 'n one ter skin a cat, en dey's mo' d'n one way ter git in
a smoke-'ouse,--leastways dat's w'at I hearn say. Folks w'at had bacon fer
ter sell did n' hab no trouble 'bout gittin' rid un it. Hit wuz 'g'in' de
law fer ter buy things fum slabes; but Lawd! dat law did n' 'mount ter a
hill er peas. Eve'y week er so one er dese yer big covered waggins would
come 'long de road, peddlin' terbacker en w'iskey. Dey wuz a sight er room
in one er dem big waggins, en it wuz monst'us easy fer ter swop off bacon
fer sump'n ter chaw er ter wa'm yer up in de wintertime. I s'pose de
peddlers did n' knowed dey wuz breakin' de law, caze de niggers alluz went
at night, en stayed on de dark side er de waggin; en it wuz mighty hard fer
ter tell _w'at_ kine er folks dey wuz.
"Atter two er th'ee hund'ed er meat had be'n stole', Mars Walker call
all de niggers up one ebenin', en tol' 'em dat de fus' nigger he cot
stealin' bacon on dat plantation would git sump'n fer ter 'member it by
long ez he lib'. En he say he 'd gin fi' dollars ter de nigger w'at
'skiver' de rogue. Mars Walker say he s'picion' one er two er de
niggers, but he could n' tell fer sho, en co'se dey all 'nied it w'en he
'cuse em un it.
"Dey wa'n't no bacon stole' fer a week er so, 'tel one dark night w'en
somebody tuk a ham fum one er de smoke-'ouses. Mars Walker des cusst
awful w'en he foun' out de ham wuz gone, en say he gwine ter sarch all
de niggers' cabins; w'en dis yer Wiley I wuz tellin' yer 'bout up'n say
he s'picion' who tuk de ham, fer he seed Dave comin' 'cross de
plantation fum to'ds de smoke-'ouse de night befo'. W'en Mars Walker
hearn dis fum Wiley, he went en sarch' Dave's cabin, en foun' de ham hid
under de flo'.
"Eve'ybody wuz 'stonish'; but dere wuz de ham. Co'se Dave 'nied it ter
de las', but dere wuz de ham. Mars Walker say it wuz des ez he 'spected:
he did n' b'lieve in dese yer readin' en prayin' niggers; it wuz all
'pocrisy, en sarve' Mars Dugal' right fer 'lowin' Dave ter be readin'
books w'en it wuz 'g'in' de law.
"W'en Mars Dugal hearn 'bout de ham, he say he wuz might'ly 'ceived en
disapp'inted in Dave. He say he wouldn' nebber hab no mo' conferdence in
no nigger, en Mars Walker could do des ez he wuz a mineter wid Dave er
any er de res' er de niggers. So Mars Walker tuk'n tied Dave up en gin
'im forty; en den he got some er dis yer wire clof w'at dey uses fer ter
make sifters out'n, en tuk'n wrap' it roun' de ham en fasten it
tergedder at de little een'. Den he tuk Dave down ter de blacksmif-shop,
en had Unker Silas, de plantation blacksmif, fasten a chain ter de ham,
en den fasten de yuther een' er de chain roun' Dave's neck. En den he
says ter Dave, sezee:--
"'Now, suh, yer'll wear dat neckliss fer de nex' six mont's; en I
'spec's yer ner none er de yuther niggers on dis plantation won' steal
no mo' bacon dyoin' er dat time.'
"Well, it des 'peared ez if fum dat time Dave did n' hab nuffin but
trouble. De niggers all turnt ag'in' 'im, caze he be'n de 'casion er
Mars Dugal' turnin' 'em all ober ter Mars Walker. Mars Dugal' wa'n't a
bad marster hisse'f, but Mars Walker wuz hard ez a rock. Dave kep' on
sayin' he did n' take de ham, but none un 'em did n' b'lieve 'im.
"Dilsey wa'n't on de plantation w'en Dave wuz 'cused er stealin' de
bacon. Ole mist'iss had sont her ter town fer a week er so fer ter wait
on one er her darters w'at had a young baby, en she didn' fine out
nuffin 'bout Dave's trouble 'tel she got back ter de plantation. Dave
had patien'ly endyoed de finger er scawn, en all de hard words w'at de
niggers pile' on 'im, caze he wuz sho' Dilsey would stan' by 'im, en
would n' b'lieve he wuz a rogue, ner none er de yuther tales de darkies
wuz tellin' 'bout 'im.
"W'en Dilsey come back fum town, en got down fum behine de buggy whar
she b'en ridin' wid ole mars, de fus' nigger 'ooman she met says ter
her,--
"'Is yer seed Dave, Dilsey?'
"'No, I ain' seed Dave,' says Dilsey.
"'Yer des oughter look at dat nigger; reckon yer would n' want 'im fer
yo' junesey no mo'. Mars Walker cotch 'im stealin' bacon, en gone en
fasten' a ham roun' his neck, so he can't git it off'n hisse'f. He
sut'nly do look quare.' En den de 'ooman bus' out laffin' fit ter kill
herse'f. W'en she got thoo laffin' she up'n tole Dilsey all 'bout de
ham, en all de yuther lies w'at de niggers be'n tellin' on Dave.
"W'en Dilsey started down ter de quarters, who should she meet but Dave,
comin' in fum de cotton-fiel'. She turnt her head ter one side, en
purten' lack she did n' seed Dave.
"'Dilsey!' sezee.
"Dilsey walk' right on, en did n' notice 'im.
"'_Oh_, Dilsey!'
"Dilsey did n' paid no 'tention ter 'im, en den Dave knowed some er de
niggers be'n tellin' her 'bout de ham. He felt monst'us bad, but he
'lowed ef he could des git Dilsey fer ter listen ter 'im fer a minute er
so, he could make her b'lieve he did n' stole de bacon. It wuz a week er
two befo' he could git a chance ter speak ter her ag'in; but fine'ly he
cotch her down by de spring one day, en sezee:--
"'Dilsey, w'at fer yer won' speak ter me, en purten' lack yer doan see
me? Dilsey, yer knows me too well fer ter b'lieve I 'd steal, er do dis
yuther wick'ness de niggers is all layin' ter me,--yer _knows_ I would
n' do dat, Dilsey. Yer ain' gwine back on yo' Dave, is yer?'
"But w'at Dave say didn' hab no 'fec' on Dilsey. Dem lies folks b'en
tellin' her had p'isen' her min' 'g'in' Dave.
"'I doan wanter talk ter no nigger,' says she, 'w'at be'n whip' fer
stealin', en w'at gwine roun' wid sich a lookin' thing ez dat hung roun'
his neck. I's a 'spectable gal, _I_ is. W'at yer call dat, Dave? Is dat
a cha'm fer ter keep off witches, er is it a noo kine er neckliss yer
got?'
"Po' Dave did n' knowed w'at ter do. De las' one he had pended on fer
ter stan' by 'im had gone back on 'im, en dey did n' 'pear ter be nuffin
mo' wuf libbin' fer. He could n' hol' no mo' pra'r-meetin's, fer Mars
Walker would n' 'low 'im ter preach, en de darkies would n' 'a' listen'
ter 'im ef he had preach'. He didn' eben hab his Bible fer ter comfort
hisse'f wid, fer Mars Walker had tuk it erway fum 'im en burnt it up, en
say ef he ketch any mo' niggers wid Bibles on de plantation he 'd do 'em
wuss'n he done Dave.
"En ter make it still harder fer Dave, Dilsey tuk up wid Wiley. Dave
could see him gwine up ter Aun' Mahaly's cabin, en settin' out on de
bench in de moonlight wid Dilsey, en singin' sinful songs en playin' de
banjer. Dave use' ter scrouch down behine de bushes, en wonder w'at de
Lawd sen' 'im all dem tribberlations fer.
"But all er Dave's yuther troubles wa'n't nuffin side er dat ham. He had
wrap' de chain roun' wid a rag, so it did n' hurt his neck; but w'eneber
he went ter wuk, dat ham would be in his way; he had ter do his task,
howsomedever, des de same ez ef he did n' hab de ham. W'eneber he went
ter lay down, dat ham would be in de way. Ef he turn ober in his sleep,
dat ham would be tuggin' at his neck. It wuz de las' thing he seed at
night, en de fus' thing he seed in de mawnin'. W'eneber he met a
stranger, de ham would be de fus' thing de stranger would see. Most un
'em would 'mence' ter laf, en whareber Dave went he could see folks
p'intin' at him, en year 'em sayin':--
"'W'at kine er collar dat nigger got roun' his neck?' er, ef dey knowed
'im, 'Is yer stole any mo' hams lately?' er 'W'at yer take fer yo'
neckliss, Dave?' er some joke er 'nuther 'bout dat ham.
"Fus' Dave did n' mine it so much, caze he knowed he had n' done nuffin.
But bimeby he got so he could n' stan' it no longer, en he 'd hide
hisse'f in de bushes w'eneber he seed anybody comin', en alluz kep'
hisse'f shet up in his cabin atter he come in fum wuk.
"It wuz monst'us hard on Dave, en bimeby, w'at wid dat ham eberlastin'
en etarnally draggin' roun' his neck, he 'mence' fer ter do en say quare
things, en make de niggers wonder ef he wa'n't gittin' out'n his mine.
He got ter gwine roun' talkin' ter hisse'f, en singin' corn-shuckin'
songs, en laffin' fit ter kill 'bout nuffin. En one day he tole one er
de niggers he had 'skivered a noo way fer ter raise hams,--gwine ter
pick 'em off'n trees, en save de expense er smoke-'ouses by kyoin' 'em
in de sun. En one day he up'n tole Mars Walker he got sump'n pertickler
fer ter say ter 'im; en he tuk Mars Walker off ter one side, en tole 'im
he wuz gwine ter show 'im a place in de swamp whar dey wuz a whole trac'
er Ian' covered wid ham-trees.
"Wen Mars Walker hearn Dave talkin' dis kine er fool-talk, en w'en he
seed how Dave wuz 'mencin' ter git behine in his wuk, en w'en he ax' de
niggers en dey tole 'im how Dave be'n gwine on, he 'lowed he reckon' he
'd punish' Dave ernuff, en it mou't do mo' harm dan good fer ter keep de
ham on his neck any longer. So he sont Dave down ter de blacksmif-shop
en had de ham tuk off. Dey wa'n't much er de ham lef' by dat time, fer
de sun had melt all de fat, en de lean had all swivel' up, so dey wa'n't
but th'ee er fo' poun's lef'.
"W'en de ham had be'n tuk off'n Dave, folks kinder stopped talkin' 'bout
'im so much. But de ham had be'n on his neck so long dat Dave had sorter
got use' ter it. He look des lack he 'd los' sump'n fer a day er so
atter de ham wuz tuk off, en didn' 'pear ter know w'at ter do wid
hisse'f; en fine'ly he up'n tuk'n tied a lighterd-knot ter a string, en
hid it under de flo' er his cabin, en w'en nobody wuz n' lookin' he 'd
take it out en hang it roun' his neck, en go off in de woods en holler
en sing; en he allus tied it roun' his neck w'en he went ter sleep.
Fac', it 'peared lack Dave done gone clean out'n his mine. En atter a
w'ile he got one er de quarest notions you eber hearn tell un. It wuz
'bout dat time dat I come back ter de plantation fer ter wuk,--I had
be'n out ter Mars Dugal's yuther place on Beaver Crick for a mont' er
so. I had hearn 'bout Dave en de bacon, en 'bout w'at wuz gwine on on de
plantation; but I did n' b'lieve w'at dey all say 'bout Dave, fer I
knowed Dave wa'n't dat kine er man. One day atter I come back, me'n Dave
wuz choppin' cotton tergedder, w'en Dave lean' on his hoe, en motion'
fer me ter come ober close ter 'im; en den he retch' ober en w'ispered
ter me.
"'Julius', sezee, 'did yer knowed yer wuz wukkin' long yer wid a ham?'
"I could n' 'magine w'at he meant. 'G'way fum yer, Dave,' says I. 'Yer
ain' wearin' no ham no mo'; try en fergit 'bout dat; 't ain' gwine ter
do yer no good fer ter 'member it.'
"'Look a-yer, Julius,' sezee, 'kin yer keep a secret?'
"'Co'se I kin, Dave,' says I. 'I doan go roun' tellin' people w'at
yuther folks says ter me.'
"'Kin I trus' yer, Julius? Will yer cross yo' heart?'
"I cross' my heart. 'Wush I may die ef I tells a soul,' says I.
"Dave look' at me des lack he wuz lookin' thoo me en 'way on de yuther
side er me, en sezee:--
"'Did yer knowed I wuz turnin' ter a ham, Julius?'
"I tried ter 'suade Dave dat dat wuz all foolishness, en dat he oughtn't
ter be talkin' dat-a-way,--hit wa'n't right. En I tole 'im ef he 'd des
be patien', de time would sho'ly come w'en eve'ything would be
straighten' out, en folks would fine out who de rale rogue wuz w'at
stole de bacon. Dave 'peared ter listen ter w'at I say, en promise' ter
do better, en stop gwine on dat-a-way; en it seem lack he pick' up a bit
w'en he seed dey wuz one pusson did n' b'lieve dem tales 'bout 'im.
"Hit wa'n't long atter dat befo' Mars Archie McIntyre, ober on de
Wimbleton road, 'mence' ter complain 'bout somebody stealin' chickens
fum his hen-'ouse. De chickens kep' on gwine, en at las' Mars Archie
tole de ban's on his plantation dat he gwine ter shoot de fus' man he
ketch in his hen-'ouse. In less'n a week atter he gin dis warnin', he
cotch a nigger in de hen-'ouse, en fill' 'im full er squir'l-shot. W'en
he got a light, he 'skivered it wuz a strange nigger; en w'en he call'
one er his own sarven's, de nigger tole 'im it wuz our Wiley. W'en Mars
Archie foun' dat out, he sont ober ter our plantation fer ter tell Mars
Dugal' he had shot one er his niggers, en dat he could sen' ober dere en
git w'at wuz lef un 'im.
"Mars Dugal' wuz mad at fus'; but w'en he got ober dere en hearn how it
all happen', he did n' hab much ter say. Wiley wuz shot so bad he wuz
sho' he wuz gwine ter die, so he up'n says ter ole marster:--
"'Mars Dugal',' sezee, 'I knows I's be'n a monst'us bad nigger, but
befo' I go I wanter git sump'n off'n my mine. Dave didn' steal dat bacon
w'at wuz tuk out'n de smoke-'ouse. I stole it all, en I hid de ham under
Dave's cabin fer ter th'ow de blame on him--en may de good Lawd fergib
me fer it.'
"Mars Dugal' had Wiley tuk back ter de plantation, en sont fer a doctor
fer ter pick de shot out'n 'im. En de ve'y nex' mawnin' Mars Dugal' sont
fer Dave ter come up ter de big house; he felt kinder sorry fer de way
Dave had be'n treated. Co'se it wa'n't no fault er Mars Dugal's, but he
wuz gwine ter do w'at he could fer ter make up fer it. So he sont word
down ter de quarters fer Dave en all de yuther han's ter 'semble up in
de yard befo' de big house at sun-up nex' mawnin'.
"Yearly in de mawnin' de niggers all swarm' up in de yard. Mars Dugal'
wuz feelin' so kine dat he had brung up a bairl er cider, en tole de
niggers all fer ter he'p deyselves.
"All de han's on de plantation come but Dave; en bimeby, w'en it seem
lack he wa'n't comin', Mars Dugal' sont a nigger down ter de quarters
ter look fer 'im. De sun wuz gittin' up, en dey wuz a heap er wuk ter be
done, en Mars Dugal' sorter got ti'ed waitin'; so he up'n says:--
"'Well, boys en gals, I sont fer yer all up yer fer ter tell yer dat all
dat 'bout Dave's stealin' er de bacon wuz a mistake, ez I s'pose yer all
done hearn befo' now, en I 's mighty sorry it happen'. I wants ter treat
all my niggers right, en I wants yer all ter know dat I sets a heap by
all er my han's w'at is hones' en smart. En I want yer all ter treat
Dave des lack yer did befo' dis thing happen', en mine w'at he preach
ter yer; fer Dave is a good nigger, en has had a hard row ter hoe. En de
fus' one I ketch sayin' anythin' 'g'in' Dave, I'll tell Mister Walker
ter gin 'im forty. Now take ernudder drink er cider all roun', en den
git at dat cotton, fer I wanter git dat Persimmon Hill trac' all pick'
ober ter-day.'
"W'en de niggers wuz gwine 'way, Mars Dugal' tole me fer ter go en hunt
up Dave, en bring 'im up ter de house. I went down ter Dave's cabin, but
could n' fine 'im dere. Den I look' roun' de plantation, en in de aidge
er de woods, en 'long de road; but I could n' fine no sign er Dave. I
wuz 'bout ter gin up de sarch, w'en I happen' fer ter run 'cross a
foot-track w'at look' lack Dave's. I had wukked 'long wid Dave so much
dat I knowed his tracks: he had a monst'us long foot, wid a holler
instep, w'ich wuz sump'n skase 'mongs' black folks. So I follered dat
track 'cross de fiel' fum de quarters 'tel I got ter de smoke-'ouse. De
fus' thing I notice' wuz smoke comin' out'n de cracks; it wuz cu'ous,
caze dey had n' be'n no hogs kill' on de plantation fer six mont' er so,
en all de bacon in de smoke-'ouse wuz done kyoed. I could n' 'magine fer
ter sabe my life w'at Dave wuz doin' in dat smoke-'ouse. I went up ter
de do' en hollered:--
"'Dave!'
"Dey didn' nobody answer. I didn' wanter open de do', fer w'ite folks is
monst'us pertickler 'bout dey smoke-'ouses; en ef de oberseah had a-come
up en cotch me in dere, he mou't not wanter b'lieve I wuz des lookin'
fer Dave. So I sorter knock at de do' en call' out ag'in:--
"'O Dave, hit's me--Julius! Doan be skeered. Mars Dugal' wants yer ter
come up ter de big house,--he done 'skivered who stole de ham.'
"But Dave didn' answer. En w'en I look' roun' ag'in en didn' seed none
er his tracks gwine way fum de smoke-'ouse, I knowed he wuz in dere yit,
en I wuz 'termine' fer ter fetch 'im out; so I push de do' open en look
in.
"Dey wuz a pile er bark burnin' in de middle er de flo', en right ober
de fier, hangin' fum one er de rafters, wuz Dave; dey wuz a rope roun'
his neck, en I didn' haf ter look at his face mo' d'n once fer ter see
he wuz dead.
"Den I knowed how it all happen'. Dave had kep' on gittin' wusser en
wusser in his mine, 'tel he des got ter b'lievin' he wuz all done turnt
ter a ham; en den he had gone en built a fier, en tied a rope roun' his
neck, des lack de hams wuz tied, en had hung hisse'f up in de
smoke-'ouse fer ter kyo.
"Dave wuz buried down by de swamp, in de plantation buryin' groun'.
Wiley didn' died fum de woun' he got in Mars McIntyre's hen 'ouse; he
got well atter a w'ile, but Dilsey wouldn' hab nuffin mo' ter do wid
'im, en 't wa'n't long 'fo' Mars Dugal' sol' 'im ter a spekilater on his
way souf,--he say he didn' want no sich a nigger on de plantation, ner
in de county, ef he could he'p it. En w'en de een' er de year come, Mars
Dugal'' turnt Mars Walker off, en run de plantation hisse'f atter dat.
"Eber sence den," said Julius in conclusion, "w'eneber I eats ham, it
min's me er Dave. I lacks ham, but I nebber kin eat mo' d'n two er th'ee
poun's befo' I gits ter studyin' 'bout Dave, en den I has ter stop en
leab de res' fer ernudder time."
There was a short silence after the old man had finished his story, and
then my wife began to talk to him about the weather, on which subject he
was an authority. I went into the house. When I came out, half an hour
later, I saw Julius disappearing down the lane, with a basket on his
arm.
At breakfast, next morning, it occurred to me that I should like a slice
of ham. I said as much to my wife.
"Oh, no, John," she responded, "you shouldn't eat anything so heavy for
breakfast."
I insisted.
"The fact is," she said, pensively, "I couldn't have eaten any more of
that ham, and so I gave it to Julius."
A Deep Sleeper
It was four o'clock on Sunday afternoon, in the month of July. The air
had been hot and sultry, but a light, cool breeze had sprung up, and
occasional cirrus clouds overspread the sun, and for a while subdued his
fierceness. We were all out on the piazza--as the coolest place we could
find--my wife, my sister-in-law and I. The only sounds that broke the
Sabbath stillness were the hum of an occasional vagrant bumble-bee, or
the fragmentary song of a mocking-bird in a neighboring elm, who lazily
trolled a stave of melody, now and then, as a sample of what he could do
in the cool of the morning, or after a light shower, when the conditions
would be favorable to exertion.
"Annie," said I, "suppose, to relieve the deadly dulness of the
afternoon, that we go out and pull the big watermelon, and send for
Colonel Pemberton's folks to come over and help us eat it."
"Is it ripe, yet?" she inquired sleepily, brushing away a troublesome
fly that had impudently settled on her hair.
"Yes, I think so. I was out yesterday with Julius, and we thumped it,
and concluded it would be fully ripe by tomorrow or next day. But I
think it is perfectly safe to pull it to-day."
"Well, if you are sure, dear, we'll go. But how can we get it up to the
house? It's too big to tote."
"I'll step round to Julius's cabin and ask him to go down with the
wheelbarrow and bring it up," I replied.
Julius was an elderly colored man who worked on the plantation and lived
in a small house on the place, a few rods from my own residence. His
daughter was our cook, and other members of his family served us in
different capacities.
As I turned the corner of the house I saw Julius coming up the lane. He
had on his Sunday clothes, and was probably returning from the afternoon
meeting at the Sandy Run Baptist Church, of which he was a leading
member and deacon.
"Julius," I said, "we are going out to pull the big watermelon, and we
want you to take the wheelbarrow and go with us, and bring it up to the
house."
"Does yer reckon dat watermillun's ripe yit, sah?" said Julius. "Didn'
'pear ter me it went quite plunk enuff yistiddy fer ter be pull' befo'
termorrer."
"I think it is ripe enough, Julius."
"Mawnin' 'ud be a better time fer ter pull it, sah, w'en de night air
an' de jew's done cool' it off nice."
"Probably that's true enough, but we'll put it on ice, and that will
cool it; and I'm afraid if we leave it too long, some one will steal
it."
"I 'spec's dat so," said the old man, with a confirmatory shake of the
head. "Yer takes chances w'en yer pulls it, en' yer takes chances w'en
yer don't. Dey's a lot er po' w'ite trash roun' heah w'at ain' none too
good fer ter steal it. I seed some un' 'em loafin' long de big road on
mer way home fum chu'ch jes' now. I has ter watch mer own chicken-coop
ter keep chick'ns 'nuff fer Sunday eatin'. I'll go en' git de
w'eelborrow."
Julius had a profound contempt for poor whites, and never let slip an
opportunity for expressing it. He assumed that we shared this sentiment,
while in fact our feeling toward this listless race was something
entirely different. They were, like Julius himself, the product of a
system which they had not created and which they did not know enough to
resist.
As the old man turned to go away he began to limp, and put his hand to
his knee with an exclamation of pain.
"What's the matter, Julius?" asked my wife.
"Yes, Uncle Julius, what ails you?" echoed her sweet young sister. "Did
you stump your toe?"
"No, miss, it's dat mis'able rheumatiz. It ketches me now an' den in de
lef' knee, so I can't hardly draw my bref. O Lawdy!" he added between
his clenched teeth, "but dat do hurt. Ouch! It's a little better now,"
he said, after a moment, "but I doan' b'lieve I kin roll dat w'eelborrow
out ter de watermillun-patch en' back. Ef it's all de same ter yo', sah,
I'll go roun' ter my house en' sen' Tom ter take my place, w'iles I rubs
some linimum on my laig."
"That'll be all right, Julius," I said, and the old man, hobbling,
disappeared round the corner of the house. Tom was a lubberly,
sleepy-looking negro boy of about fifteen, related to Julius's wife in
some degree, and living with them.
The old man came back in about five minutes. He walked slowly, and
seemed very careful about bearing his weight on the afflicted member.
"I sont 'Liza Jane fer ter wake Tom up," he said. "He's down in de
orchard asleep under a tree somewhar. 'Liza Jane knows whar he is. It
takes a minute er so fer ter wake 'im up. 'Liza Jane knows how ter do
it. She tickles 'im in de nose er de yeah wid a broomstraw; hollerin'
doan' do no good. Dat boy is one er de Seben Sleepers. He's wuss'n his
gran'daddy used ter be."
"Was his grandfather a deep sleeper, Uncle Julius?" asked my wife's
sister.
"Oh, yas, Miss Mabel," said Julius, gravely. "He wuz a monst'us pow'ful
sleeper. He slep' fer a mont' once."
"Dear me, Uncle Julius, you must be joking," said my sister-in-law
incredulously. I thought she put it mildly.
"Oh, no, ma'm, I ain't jokin'. I never jokes on ser'ous subjec's. I wuz
dere w'en it all happen'. Hit wuz a monst'us quare thing."
"Sit down, Uncle Julius, and tell us about it," said Mabel; for she
dearly loved a story, and spent much of her time "drawing out" the
colored people in the neighborhood.
The old man took off his hat and seated himself on the top step of the
piazza. His movements were somewhat stiff and he was very careful to get
his left leg in a comfortable position.