A Negro was recently brought into police court in a little town in
Georgia, charged with assault and battery. The Negro, who was well known
to the judge, was charged with having struck another "unbleached
American" with a brick. After the usual preliminaries the judge
inquired:
"Why did you hit this man?"
"Jedge, he called me a damn black rascal."
"Well, you are one, aren't you?"
"Yessah, I _is_ one. But, Jedge, s'pose somebody'd call you a damn black
rascal, wouldn't you hit 'em?"
"But I'm not one, am I?"
"Naw, sah, naw, sah, you ain't one; but s'pose somebody'd call you de
kind o' rascal you _is_, what'd you do?"
"IT IS FORBIDDEN"
Early in the war J.B. adopted a French soldier and furnishes him with a
monthly allowance of tobacco. Incidentally, he is also lubricating his
rusty French by carrying on a correspondence with his "_filleul de
guerre_" who writes him from the trenches, "somewhere in France."
In a recent letter, the soldier informed his American benefactor that
"_hier j'ai tué deux Boches. Ils sont allés à l'enfer._" (Yesterday I
killed two Boches. They went straight to hell.) The censor wrote between
the lines, "_Il est defendu de dire où est l'ennemi._" (It is forbidden
to tell where the enemy is!)