A traveler in Tennessee came across an aged negro seated in
front of his cabin door basking in the sunshine.
“He could have walked right on the stage for an Uncle Tom part
without a line of make-up” says the traveler. “He must have been
eighty years of age.”
“Good-morning, uncle,” said the traveler.
“Mornin’, sah! Mornin’,” said the aged one. Then he added, “Be
you the gentleman over yonder from New York?”
Being told that such was the case, the old darky said, “Do you
mind telling me something that has been botherin’ my old haid? I
have got a grandson--he runs on the Pullman cyars--and he done
tells me that up thar in New York you-all burn up youah folks
when they die. He is a powerful liar, and I don’t believe him.”
“Yes,” replied the other, “that is the truth in some cases. We
call it cremation.”
“Well, you suttenly surprize me,” said the negro, and then he
paused as if in deep reflection. Finally he said, “You-all know
I am a Baptist. I believe in the resurrection and the life
everlastin’ and the comin’ of the Angel Gabriel and the blowin’
of that great horn, and Lawdy me, how am they evah goin’ to find
them folks on that great mawnin’?”
It was too great a task for an off-hand answer, and the
suggestion was made that the aged one consult his minister.
Again the negro fell into a brown study, and then he raised his
head and his eyes twinkled merrily, and he said in a soft voice:
“Meanin’ no offense, sah, but from what Ah have heard
about New York, I kinder calculate they is a lot of
them New York people that doan’ wanter be found on that
mornin’.”--_Cosmopolitan._
(1698)