Other Julius Tales + 

Dave’s Neckliss + 

“Have some dinner, Uncle Julius?” said my wife. + 

It was a Sunday afternoon in early autumn. Our two women-servants had gone to a camp-meeting some miles away, and would not return until evening. My wife had served the dinner, and we were just rising from the table, when Julius came up the lane, and, taking off his hat, seated himself on the piazza. + 

The old man glanced through the open door at the dinner-table, and his eyes rested lovingly upon a large sugar-cured ham, from which several slices had been cut, exposing a rich pink expanse that would have appealed strongly to the appetite of any hungry Christian. + 

“Thanky, Miss Annie,” he said, after a momentary hesitation, “I dunno ez I keers ef I does tas’e a piece er dat ham, ef yer’ll cut me off a slice un it.” + 

“No,” said Annie, “I won’t. Just sit down to the table and help yourself; eat all you want, and don’t be bashful.” + 

Julius drew a chair up to the table, while my wife and I went out on the piazza. Julius was in my employment; he took his meals with his own family, but when he happened to be about our house at mealtimes, my wife never let him go away hungry. + 

I threw myself into a hammock, from which I could see Julius through an open window. He ate with evident relish, devoting his attention chiefly to the ham, slice after slice of which disappeared in the spacious cavity of his mouth. At first the old man ate rapidly, but after the edge of his appetite had been taken off he proceeded in a more leisurely manner. When he had cut the sixth slice of ham (I kept count of them from a lazy curiosity to see how much he could eat) I saw him lay it on his plate; as he adjusted the knife and fork to cut it into smaller pieces, he paused, as if struck by a sudden thought, and a tear rolled down his rugged cheek and fell upon the slice of ham before him. But the emotion, whatever the thought that caused it, was transitory, and in a moment he continued his dinner. When he was through eating, he came out on the porch, and resumed his seat with the satisfied expression of countenance that usually follows a good dinner. + 

“Julius,” I said, “you seemed to be affected by something, a moment ago. Was the mustard so strong that it moved you to tears?” + 

“No, suh, it wa’n’t de mustard; I wuz studyin’ ’bout Dave.” + 

“Who was Dave, and what about him?” I asked. + 

The conditions were all favorable to story-telling. There was an autumnal languor in the air, and a dreamy haze softened the dark green of the distant pines and the deep blue of the Southern sky. The generous meal he had made had put the old man in a very good humor. He was not always so, for his curiously undeveloped nature was subject to moods which were almost childish in their variableness. It was only now and then that we were able to study, through the medium of his recollection, the simple but intensely human inner life of slavery. His way of looking at the past seemed very strange to us; his view of certain sides of life was essentially different from ours. He never indulged in any regrets for the Arcadian joyousness and irresponsibility which was a somewhat popular conception of slavery; his had not been the lot of the petted house-servant, but that of the toiling field-hand. While he mentioned with a warm appreciation the acts of kindness which those in authority had shown to him and his people, he would speak of a cruel deed, not with the indignation of one accustomed to quick feeling and spontaneous expression, but with a furtive disapproval which suggested to us a doubt in his own mind as to whether he had a right to think or to feel, and presented to us the curious psychological spectacle of a mind enslaved long after the shackles had been struck off from the limbs of its possessor. Whether the sacred name of liberty ever set his soul aglow with a generous fire; whether he had more than the most elementary ideas of love, friendship, patriotism, religion⁠—things which are half, and the better half, of life to us; whether he even realized, except in a vague, uncertain way, his own degradation, I do not know. I fear not; and if not, then centuries of repression had borne their legitimate fruit. But in the simple human feeling, and still more in the undertone of sadness, which pervaded his stories, I thought I could see a spark which, fanned by favoring breezes and fed by the memories of the past, might become in his children’s children a glowing flame of sensibility, alive to every thrill of human happiness or human woe. + 

“Dave use’ ter b’long ter my ole marster,” said Julius; “he wuz raise’ on dis yer plantation, en I kin ’member all erbout ’im, fer I wuz ole ’nuff ter chop cotton w’en it all happen’. Dave wuz a tall man, en monst’us strong: he could do mo’ wuk in a day dan any yuther two niggers on de plantation. He wuz one er dese yer solemn kine er men, en nebber run on wid much foolishness, like de yuther darkies. He use’ ter go out in de woods en pray; en w’en he hear de han’s on de plantation cussin’ en gwine on wid dere dancin’ en foolishness, he use’ ter tell ’em ’bout religion en jedgmen’-day, w’en dey would haf ter gin account fer eve’y idle word en all dey yuther sinful kyarin’s-on. + 

“Dave had l’arn’ how ter read de Bible. Dey wuz a free nigger boy in de settlement w’at wuz monst’us smart, en could write en cipher, en wuz alluz readin’ books er papers. En Dave had hi’ed dis free boy fer ter l’arn ’im how ter read. Hit wuz ’g’in’ de law, but co’se none er de niggers didn’ say nuffin ter de w’ite folks ’bout it. Howsomedever, one day Mars Walker⁠—he wuz de oberseah⁠—foun’ out Dave could read. Mars Walker wa’n’t nuffin but a po’ bockrah, en folks said he couldn’ read ner write hisse’f, en co’se he didn’ lack ter see a nigger w’at knowed mo’ d’n he did; so he went en tole Mars Dugal’. Mars Dugal’ sont fer Dave, en ax’ ’im ’bout it. + 

“Dave didn’t hardly knowed w’at ter do; but he couldn’ tell no lie, so he ’fessed he could read de Bible a little by spellin’ out de words. Mars Dugal’ look’ mighty solemn. + 

“ ‘Dis yer is a se’ious matter,’ sezee; ‘it’s ’g’in’ de law ter l’arn niggers how ter read, er ’low ’em ter hab books. But w’at yer l’arn out’n dat Bible, Dave?’ + 

“Dave wa’n’t no fool, ef he wuz a nigger, en sezee:⁠— + 

“ ‘Marster, I l’arns dat it’s a sin fer ter steal, er ter lie, er fer ter want w’at doan b’long ter yer; en I l’arns fer ter love de Lawd en ter ’bey my marster.’ + 

“Mars Dugal’ sorter smile’ en laf ter hisse’f, like he ’uz might’ly tickle’ ’bout sump’n, en sezee:⁠— + 

“ ‘Doan ’pear ter me lack readin’ de Bible done yer much harm, Dave. Dat’s w’at I wants all my niggers fer ter know. Yer keep right on readin’, en tell de yuther han’s w’at yer be’n tellin’ me. How would yer lack fer ter preach ter de niggers on Sunday?’ + 

“Dave say he’d be glad fer ter do w’at he could. So Mars Dugal’ tole de oberseah fer ter let Dave preach ter de niggers, en tell ’em w’at wuz in de Bible, en it would he’p ter keep ’em fum stealin’ er runnin’ erway. + 

“So Dave ’mence’ ter preach, en done de han’s on de plantation a heap er good, en most un ’em lef’ off dey wicked ways, en ’mence’ ter love ter hear ’bout God, en religion, en de Bible; en dey done dey wuk better, en didn’ gib de oberseah but mighty little trouble fer ter manage ’em. + 

“Dave wuz one er dese yer men w’at didn’ keer much fer de gals⁠—leastways he didn’ ’tel Dilsey come ter de plantation. Dilsey wuz a monst’us peart, good-lookin’, gingybread-colored gal⁠—one er dese yer high-steppin’ gals w’at hol’s dey heads up, en won’ stan’ no foolishness fum no man. She had b’long’ ter a gemman over on Rockfish, w’at died, en whose ’state ha’ ter be sol’ fer ter pay his debts. En Mars Dugal’ had be’n ter de oction, en w’en he seed dis gal a-cryin’ en gwine on ’bout bein’ sol’ erway fum her ole mammy, Aun’ Mahaly, Mars Dugal’ bid ’em bofe in, en fotch ’em ober ter our plantation. + 

“De young nigger men on de plantation wuz des wil’ atter Dilsey, but it didn’ do no good, en none un ’em couldn’ git Dilsey fer dey junesey, ’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.’ + 

“But dere wuz one man on de plantation w’at didn’ 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 han’, 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 didn’ 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 han’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 didn’ hab no trouble ’bout gittin’ rid un it. Hit wuz ’g’in’ de law fer ter buy things fum slabes; but Lawd! dat law didn’ ’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 didn’ 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 couldn’ 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 didn’ 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 didn’ 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 didn’ take de ham, but none un ’em didn’ 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 wouldn’ 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 wouldn’ 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 didn’ seed Dave. + 

“ ‘Dilsey!’ sezee. + 

“Dilsey walk’ right on, en didn’ notice ’im. + 

“ ‘Oh, Dilsey!’ + 

“Dilsey didn’ 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 didn’ 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 wouldn’ 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 didn’ knowed w’at ter do. De las’ one he had ’pended on fer ter stan’ by ’im had gone back on ’im, en dey didn’ ’pear ter be nuffin mo’ wuf libbin’ fer. He couldn’ hol’ no mo’ pra’r-meetin’s, fer Mars Walker wouldn’ ’low ’im ter preach, en de darkies wouldn’ ’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 didn’ 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 didn’ 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 didn’ mine it so much, caze he knowed he hadn’ done nuffin. But bimeby he got so he couldn’ 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 lan’ 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 wuzn’ 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 didn’ 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 couldn’ ’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 didn’ 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 han’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 didn’ 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 couldn’ fine ’im dere. Den I look’ roun’ de plantation, en in de aidge er de woods, en ’long de road; but I couldn’ 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 hadn’ 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 couldn’ ’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.” + 

Lonesome Ben + 

There had been some talk among local capitalists about building a cotton mill on Beaver Creek, a few miles from my place on the sand hills in North Carolina, and I had been approached as likely to take an interest in such an enterprise. While I had the matter under advisement it was suggested, as an inducement to my cooperation, that I might have the brick for the mill made on my place⁠—there being clay there suitable for the purpose⁠—and thus reduce the amount of my actual cash investment. Most of my land was sandy, though I had observed several outcroppings of clay along the little creek or branch forming one of my boundaries. + 

One afternoon in summer, when the sun was low and the heat less oppressive than it had been earlier in the day, I ordered Julius, our old colored coachman, to harness the mare to the rockaway and drive me to look at the clay-banks. When we were ready, my wife, who wished to go with me for the sake of the drive, came out and took her seat by my side. + 

We reached our first point of destination by a road running across the plantation, between a field of dark-green maize on the one hand and a broad expanse of scuppernong vines on the other. The road led us past a cabin occupied by one of my farm-hands. As the carriage went by at a walk, the woman of the house came to the door and curtsied. My wife made some inquiry about her health, and she replied that it was poor. I noticed that her complexion, which naturally was of a ruddy brown, was of a rather sickly hue. Indeed, I had observed a greater sallowness among both the colored people and the poor whites thereabouts than the hygienic conditions of the neighborhood seemed to justify. + 

After leaving this house our road lay through a cotton field for a short distance, and then we entered a strip of woods, through which ran the little stream beside which I had observed the clay. We stopped at the creek, the road by which we had come crossing it and continuing over the land of my neighbor, Colonel Pemberton. By the roadside, on my own land, a bank of clay rose in almost a sheer perpendicular for about ten feet, evidently extending back some distance into the low, pine-clad hill behind it, and having also frontage upon the creek. There were marks of bare feet on the ground along the base of the bank, and the face of it seemed freshly disturbed and scored with finger marks, as though children had been playing there. + 

“Do you think that clay would make good brick, Julius?” I asked the old man, who had been unusually quiet during the drive. He generally played with the whip, making little feints at the mare, or slapping her lightly with the reins, or admonishing her in a familiar way; but on this occasion the heat or some other cause had rendered him less demonstrative than usual. + 

“Yas, suh, I knows it would,” he answered. + 

“How do you know? Has it ever been used for that purpose?” + 

“No, suh; but I got my reasons fer sayin’ so. Ole Mars Dugal useter hab a brickya’d fu’ther up de branch⁠—I dunno as yer noticed it, fer it’s all growed ober wid weeds an’ grass. Mars Dugal said dis yer clay wouldn’ make good brick, but I knowed better.” + 

I judged from the appearance of the clay that it was probably deficient in iron. It was of a yellowish-white tint and had a sort of greasy look. + 

“Well,” I said, “we’ll drive up to the other place and get a sample of that clay, and then we’ll come back this way.” + 

“Hold on a minute, dear,” said my wife, looking at her watch, “Mabel has been over to Colonel Pemberton’s all the afternoon. She said she’d be back at five. If we wait here a little while she’ll be along and we can take her with us.” + 

“All right,” I said, “we’ll wait for her. Drive up a little farther, Julius, by that jessamine vine.” + 

While we were waiting, a white woman wearing a homespun dress and slat-bonnet, came down the road from the other side of the creek, and lifting her skirts slightly, waded with bare feet across the shallow stream. Reaching the clay-bank she stooped and gathered from it, with the aid of a convenient stick, a quantity of the clay which she pressed together in the form of a ball. She had not seen us at first, the bushes partially screening us; but when, having secured the clay, she turned her face in our direction and caught sight of us watching her, she hid the lump of clay in her pocket with a shamefaced look, and hurried away by the road she had come. + 

“What is she going to do with that, Uncle Julius?” asked my wife. We were Northern settlers, and still new to some of the customs of the locality, concerning which we often looked to Julius for information. He had lived on the place many years and knew the neighborhood thoroughly. + 

“She’s gwineter eat it, Miss Annie,” he replied, “w’en she gits outer sight.” + 

“Ugh!” said my wife with a grimace, “you don’t mean she’s going to eat that great lump of clay?” + 

“Yas’m I does; dat’s jes’ w’at I means⁠—gwineter eat eve’y bit un it, an’ den come back bimeby fer mo’.” + 

“I should think it would make them sick,” she said. + 

“Dey gits use’ ter it,” said Julius. “Howsomeber, ef dey eats too much it does make ’em sick; an’ I knows w’at I’m er-talkin’ erbout. I doan min’ w’at dem kinder folks does,” he added, looking contemptuously after the retreating figure of the poor-white woman, “but w’eneber I sees black folks eat’n’ clay of’n dat partic’lar clay-bank, it alluz sets me ter studyin’ ’bout po’ lonesome Ben.” + 

“What was the matter with Ben?” asked my wife. “You can tell us while we’re waiting for Mabel.” + 

Old Julius often beguiled our leisure with stories of plantation life, some of them folklore stories, which we found to be in general circulation among the colored people; some of them tales of real life as Julius had seen it in the old slave days; but the most striking were, we suspected, purely imaginary, or so colored by old Julius’s fancy as to make us speculate at times upon how many original minds, which might have added to the world’s wealth of literature and art, had been buried in the ocean of slavery. + 

“W’en ole Mars Marrabo McSwayne owned dat place ober de branch dere, w’at Kunnel Pembe’ton owns now,” the old man began, “he useter hab a nigger man name’ Ben. Ben wuz one er dese yer big black niggers⁠—he was mo’d’n six foot high an’ black ez coal. He wuz a fiel’-han’ an’ a good wukker, but he had one little failin’⁠—he would take a drap er so oncet in a w’ile. Co’se eve’ybody laks a drap now an’ den, but it ’peared ter ’fec’ Ben mo’d’n it did yuther folks. He didn’ hab much chance dat-a-way, but eve’y now an’ den he’d git holt er sump’n’ somewahr, an’ sho’s he did, he’d git out’n de narrer road. Mars Marrabo kep’ on wa’nin’ ’m ’bout it, an’ fin’lly he tol’ ’im ef he eber ketch ’im in dat shape ag’in he ’uz gwineter gib ’im fo’ty. Ben knowed ole Mars Marrabo had a good ’memb’ance an’ alluz done w’at he said, so he wuz monst’us keerful not ter gib ’m no ’casion fer ter use his ’memb’ance on him. An’ so fer mos’ a whole yeah Ben ’nied hisse’f an’ nebber teched a drap er nuffin’. + 

“But it’s h’ad wuk ter larn a ole dog new tricks, er ter make him fergit de ole uns, an’ po’ Ben’s time come bimeby, jes’ lak ev’ybody e’se’s does. Mars Marrabo sent ’im ober ter dis yer plantation one day wid a bundle er cotton-sacks fer Mars Dugal’, an’ wiles he wuz ober yere, de ole Debbil sent a’ ’oman w’at had cas’ her eyes on ’im an’ knowed his weakness, fer ter temp’ po’ Ben wid some licker. Mars Whiskey wuz right dere an’ Mars Marrabo wuz a mile erway, an’ so Ben minded Mars Whiskey an’ fergot ’bout Mars Marrabo. W’en he got back home he couldn’ skasely tell Mars Marrabo de message w’at Mars Dugal’ had sent back ter ’im. + 

“Mars Marrabo listen’ at ’im ’temp’ ter tell it; and den he says, kinder col’ and cuttin’-like⁠—he didn’ ’pear ter get mad ner nuffin’: + 

“ ‘Youer drunk, Ben.’ + 

“De way his marster spoke sorter sobered Ben, an’ he ’nied it of co’se. + 

“ ‘Who? Me, Mars Marrabo? I ain’ drunk; no, marster, I ain’ drunk. I ain’ teched a drap er nuffin’ sence las’ Chris’mas, suh.’ + 

“ ‘Youer drunk, Ben, an’ don’t you dare ter ’spute my wo’d, er I’ll kill you in yo’ tracks! I’ll talk ter you Sad’day night, suh, w’en you’ll be sober, an’ w’en you’ll hab Sunday ter ’flect over ou’ conve’sation, an’ ’nuss yo’ woun’s.’ + 

“W’en Mars Marrabo got th’oo talkin’ Ben wuz mo’ sober dan he wuz befo’ he got drunk. It wuz Wednesday w’en Ben’s marster tol ’im dis, an’ ’twix’ den and Friday night Ben done a heap er studyin’. An’ de mo’ he studied de mo’ he didn’ lak de way Mars Marrabo talked. He hadn’ much trouble wid Mars Marrabo befo’, but he knowed his ways, an’ he knowed dat de longer Mars Marrabo waited to do a thing de wusser he got ’stid er gittin’ better lak mos’ folks. An’ Ben fin’lly made up his min’ he wa’n’t gwineter take dat cowhidin’. He ’lowed dat ef he wuz little, like some er de dahkies on de plantation, he wouldn’ min’ it so much; but he wuz so big dey’d be mo’ groun’ fer Mars Marrabo ter cover, an’ it would hurt dat much mo’. So Ben ’cided ter run erway. + 

“He had a wife an’ two chil’en, an’ dey had a little cabin ter deyse’ves down in de quahters. His wife Dasdy wuz a good-lookin’, good-natu’d ’oman, an’ ’peared ter set a heap er sto’ by Ben. De little boy wuz name’ Pete; he wuz ’bout eight er nine years ole, an’ had already ’menced ter go out in de fiel’ an’ he’p his mammy pick cotton, fer Mars Marrabo wuz one er dese yer folks w’at wants ter make eve’y aidge cut. Dis yer little Pete wuz a mighty soople dancer, an’ w’en his daddy would set out in de yahd an’ pick de banjo fer ’im, Pete could teach de ole folks noo steps⁠—dancin’ jes seemed to come nachul ter ’im. Dey wuz a little gal too; Ben didn’ pay much ’tention ter de gal, but he wuz monst’us fond er Dasdy an’ de boy. He wuz sorry ter leab ’em, an’ he didn’ tell ’em nuffin’ ’bout it fer fear dey’d make a fuss. But on Friday night Ben tuk all de bread an’ meat dey wuz in de cabin an’ made fer de woods. + 

“W’en Sad’day come an’ Ben didn’ ’pear, an’ nobody didn’ know nuffin’ ’bout ’im, Mars Marrabo ’lowed of co’se dat Ben had runned erway. He got up a pahty an’ tuk de dawgs out an’ follered de scen’ down ter de crick an’ los’ it. Fer Ben had tuk a go’d-full er tar ’long wid’ ’im, an’ w’en he got ter de crick he had ’n’inted his feet wid tar, an’ dat th’owed de houn’s off’n de scent. Dey sarched de woods an’ follered de roads an’ kep’ watchin’ fer a week, but dey couldn’ fin’ no sign er Ben. An’ den Mars Marrabo got mo’ stric’, an’ wuked his niggers hahder’n eber, ez ef he wanted ter try ter make up fer his loss. + 

“W’en Ben stahted out he wanted ter go ter de No’th. He didn’ know how fur it wuz, bet he ’lowed he retch dar in fo’ er five days. He knowed de No’th Stah, an’ de fus night he kep’ gwine right straight to’ds it. But de nex’ night it was rainin’, an’ fer two er th’ee nights it stayed cloudy, an’ Ben couldn’ see de No’th Stah. Howsomeber, he knowed he had got stahted right’ an’ he kep’ gwine right straight on de same way fer a week er mo’ ’spectin’ ter git ter de No’th eve’y day, w’en one mawin’ early, atter he had b’en walkin’ all night, he come right smack out on de crick jes whar he had stahted f’om. + 

“Co’se Ben wuz monst’us disapp’inted. He had been wond’rin’ w’y he hadn’ got ter de No’th befo’, an’ behol’, heah he wuz back on de ole plantation. He couldn’ un’erstan’ it at fus’, but he wuz so hongry he didn’ hab time ter study ’bout nuffin’ fer a little w’ile but jes’ ter git sump’n’ ter eat; fer he had done eat up de bread an’ meat he tuk away wid ’im, an’ had been libbin’ on roas’n-ears an’ sweet’n taters he’d slip out’n de woods an’ fin’ in co’n fiel’s ’an ’tater-patches. He look ’cross de crick, an’ seed dis yer clay-bank, an’ he waded ober an’ got all he could eat, an’ den tuk a lump wid ’im, an’ hid in de woods ag’in ’til he could study de matter ober some. + 

“Fus’ he ’lowed dat he better gib hiss’ef up an’ take his lammin’. But jes’ den he ’membered de way Mars Marrabo looked at ’im an’ w’at he said ’bout Sad’day night; an’ den he ’lowed dat ef Mars Marrabo ketch ’im now, he’d wear ’im ter a frazzle an’ chaw up de frazzle, so de wouldn’ be nuffin’ lef’ un ’im at all, an’ dat Mars Marrabo would make a’ example an’ a warnin’ of ’im fer all de niggers in de naberhood. Fac’ is Mars Marrabo prob’ly wouldn’ a’ done much ter ’im fer it ’ud be monst’us po’ ’couragement fer runaway niggers ter come back, ef dey gwineter git killed w’en dey come. An’ so Ben waited ’til night, an’ den he went back an’ got some mo’ clay an’ eat it an’ hid hisse’f in de woods ag’in. + 

“Well, hit wuz quare ’bout Ben, but he stayed roun’ heah fer a mont’, hidin’ in de woods in de daytime, an’ slippin’ out nights an’ gittin’ clay ter eat an’ water f’om de crick yanker ter drink. De water in dat crick wuz cl’ar in dem days, stidder bein’ yallar lak it is now.” + 

We had observed that the water, like that of most streams that take their rise in swamps, had an amber tint to which the sand and clay background of the bed of the stream imparted an even yellower hue. + 

“What did he do then, Julius?” asked my wife, who liked to hear the end of a story. + 

“Well, Miss, he made up his min’ den dat he wuz gwineter staht fer de No’th ag’in. But wiles he b’en layin’ roun’ in de woods he had ’mence ter feel monst’us lonesome, an’ it ’peared ter him dat he jes’ couldn’ go widout seein’ Dasdy an’ little Pete. Fus’ he ’lowed he’d go up ter de cabin, but he thought ’bout de dogs ’roun’ de yahd, an’ dat de yuther dahkies mought see ’im, and so he ’cided he’d better watch fer ’em ’til dey come long de road⁠—it wuz dis yer same road⁠—w’en he could come out’n de woods an’ talk ter ’em. An’ he eben ’lowed he mought ’suade ’em ter run erway wid ’im an’ dey could all get ter de No’th, fer de nights wuz cl’ar now, an’ he couldn’ lose de No’th Stah. + 

“So he waited two er th’ee days, an’ sho’ nuff long come Dasdy one mornin’, comin’ over to Mars Dugal’s fer ter fetch some things fer her missis. She wuz lookin’ kinder down in de mouf, fer she thought a heap er Ben, an’ wuz monst’us sorry ter lose ’im, w’iles at de same time she wuz glad he wuz free, fer she ’lowed he’d done got ter de Norf long befo’. An’ she wuz studyin’ ’bout Ben, w’at a fine-lookin’ man he wuz, an’ wond’rin’ ef she’d eber see ’im any mo’. + 

“W’en Ben seed her comin’ he waited ’til she got close by, an’ den he stepped out ’n de woods an’ come face ter face wid her. She didn’ ’pear to know who he wuz, an’ seem kinder skeered. + 

“ ‘Hoddy, Dasdy honey,’ he said. + 

“ ‘Huh!’ she said, ‘ ’pears ter me you’er mighty fermilyer on sho’t acquaintance.’ + 

“ ‘Sho’t acquaintance. Why, doan’ yer know me, Dasdy?’ + 

“ ‘No. I doan know yer f’om a skeercrow. I never seed yer befo’ in my life, an’ nebber wants ter see yer ag’in. Whar did yer com f’om anyhow? Whose nigger is yer? Er is yer some low-down free nigger dat doan b’long ter nobody an’ doan own nobody?’ + 

“ ‘W’at fer you talk ter me like dat, honey? I’s Ben, yo’ Ben. Why doan you know yo’ own man?’ + 

“He put out his ahms fer ter draw her ter ’im, but she jes’ gib one yell, an’ stahted ter run. Ben wuz so ’stonish’ he didn’ know w’at ter do, an’ he stood dere in de road ’til he heared somebody e’se comin’, w’en he dahted in de woods ag’in. + 

“Po’ Ben wuz so ’sturbed in his min’ dat he couldn’ hahdly eat any clay dat day. He couldn’ make out w’at wuz de matter wid Dasdy but he ’lowed maybe she’d heared he wuz dead er sump’n’, an’ thought he wuz a ha’nt, an’ dat wuz w’y she had run away. So he watch’ by de side er de road, an’ nex’ mornin’ who should come erlong but little Pete, wid a reed over his shoulder, an’ a go’d-full er bait, gwine fishin’ in de crick. + 

“Ben called ’im; ‘Pete, O Pete! Little Pete.’ + 

“Little Pete cocked up his ears an’ listened. ’Peared lak he’d heared dat voice befo’. He stahted fer de woods fer ter see who it wuz callin’ ’im, but befo’ he got dere Ben stepped out an’ retched fer im. + 

“ ‘Come heah, honey, an’ see yo’ daddy, who ain’ seenyer fer so long.’ + 

“But little Pete tuk one look at ’im, an’ den ’menceter holler an squeal an’ kick an’ bite an’ scratch. Ben wuz so ’stonish’ dat he couldn’ hol’ de boy, who slipped out’n his han’s an run to’ds de house ez fas’ ez his legs would tote ’im. + 

“Po’ Ben kep’ gittin’ wus an’ wus mixed up. He couldn’ make out fer de life er ’im w’at could be de matter. Nobody didn’ ’pear ter wanter own ’im. He felt so cas’ down dat he didn’ notice a nigger man comin’ long de road ’til he got right close up on ’im, an’ didn’ heah dis man w’en he said ‘Hoddy’ ter ’im. + 

“ ‘Wat’s de matter wid yer?’ said de yuther man w’en Ben didn’ ’spon’. ‘Wat jedge er member er de legislater er hotelkeeper does you b’long ter dat you can’t speak ter a man w’en he says hoddy ter yer?’ + 

“Ben kinder come ter hisse’f an’ seed it wuz Primus, who b’long ter his marster an’ knowed ’im as well as anybody. But befo’ he could git de words out’n his mouf Primus went on talkin’. + 

“ ‘Youer de mos’ mis’able lookin’ merlatter I eber seed. Dem rags look lak dey be’n run th’oo a sawmill. My marster doan ’low no strange niggers roun’ dis yer plantation, an’ yo’ better take yo’ yaller hide ’way f’um yer as fas’ as yo’ kin.’ + 

“Jes den somebody hollered on de yuther side er de crick, an’ Primus stahted off on a run, so Ben didn’ hab no chance ter say no mo’ ter ’im. + 

“Ben almos’ ’lowed he wuz gwine out’n’ his min’, he wuz so ’stonished an’ mazed at none er dese yer folks reco’nizin’ ’im. He went back in de woods ag’in an’ stayed dere all day, wond’rin’ w’at he wuz gwineter do. Oncet er twicet he seed folks comin’ ’long de road, an’ stahted out ter speak ter ’em, but changed his min’ an’ slip’ back ag’in. + 

“Co’se ef Mars Marrabo had been huntin’ Ben he would ’a’ foun’ ’im. But he had long sence los’ all hope er seein’ im ag’in, an’ so nobody didn’ ’sturb Ben in de woods. He stayed hid a day er two mo’ an’ den he got so lonesome an’ homesick fer Dasdy an’ little Pete an’ de yuther dahkies⁠—somebody ter talk ter⁠—dat he jes’ made up his min’ ter go right up ter de house an’ gib hisse’f up an’ take his med’cine. Mars Marrabo couldn’ do nuffin’ mo’ d’n kill ’im an’ he mought’s well be dead as hidin’ in de woods wid nobody ter talk ter er look at ner nuffin’. He had jes’ come out ’n de woods an’ stahted up dis ve’y road, w’en who sh’d come ’long in a hoss ’n buggy but ole Mars Marrabo, drivin’ ober ter dat yuther brickyahd youer gwinter see now. Ben run out ’n de woods, and fell down on his knees in de road right in front er Mars Marrabo. Mars Marrabo had to pull on de lines an’ hoi’ de hoss up ter keep ’im f’um runnin’ ober Ben. + 

“ ‘Git out’n de road, you fool nigger,’ says Mars Marrabo, ‘does yer wanter git run ober? Whose nigger is you, anyhow?’ + 

“ ‘I’s yo’ nigger, Mars Marrabo; doan yer know Ben, w’at runned erway?’ + 

“ ‘Yas, I knows my Ben w’at runned erway. Does you know whar he is?’ + 

“ ‘Why, I’s yo’ Ben, Mars Marrabo. Doan yer know me, marster?’ + 

“ ‘No, I doan know yer, yer yaller rascal! W’at de debbil yer mean by tellin’ me sich a lie? Ben wuz black ez a coal an’ straight ez an’ arrer. Youer yaller ez dat clay-bank, an’ crooked ez a bair’l-hoop. I reckon youer some ’stracted nigger, tun’t out by some marster w’at doan wanter take keer er yer. You git off’n my plantation, an’ doan show yo’ clay-cullud hide aroun’ yer no more, er I’ll hab yer sent ter jail an’ whip.’ + 

“Mars Marrabo drove erway an’ lef’ po’ Ben mo’ dead ’n alive. He crep’ back in de bushes an’ laid down an’ wep’ lak a baby. He didn’ hab no wife, no chile, no frien’s, no marster⁠—he’d be’n willin’ ernuff to git ’long widout a marster, w’en he had one, but it ’peared lak a sin fer his own marster ter ’ny ’im an’ cas’ ’im off dat-a-way. It ’peared ter ’im he mought jes’ ez well be dead ez livin’, fer he wuz all alone in de worl’, wid nowhar ter go, an’ nobody didn’ hab nuffin’ ter say ter ’im but ter ’buse ’im an’ drive ’im erway. + 

“Atter he got ober his grievin’ spell he ’mence ter wonder w’at Mars Marrabo meant by callin’ ’im yaller, an’ ez long ez nobody didn’ seem ter keer whuther dey seed ’im er not, he went down by de crick in broad daylight, an’ kneel down by de water an’ looked at his face. Fus’ he didn’ reco’nize hisse’f an’ glanshed back ter see ef dey wa’n’t somebody lookin’ ober his shoulder⁠—but dey wa’n’t. An’ w’en he looked back in de water he seed de same thing⁠—he wa’n’t black no mo’, but had turnt ter a light yaller. + 

“Ben didn’ knowed w’at ter make er it fer a minute er so. Fus’ he ’lowed he must hab de yaller fever, er de yaller janders, er sump’n lak dat’! But he had knowed rale dark folks ter hab janders befo’, and it hadn’t nebber ’fected ’em dat-a-way. But bimeby he got up o’ff’n ’is han’s an’ knees an’ wuz stan’in’ lookin’ ober de crick at de clay-bank, an’ wond’rin ef de clay he’d b’en eat’n’ hadn’ turnt ’im yaller w’en he heared sump’n say jes’ ez plain ez wo’ds. + 

“ ‘Turnt ter clay! turnt ter clay! turnt ter clay!’ + 

“He looked all roun’, but he couldn’ see nobody but a big bullfrog settin’ on a log on de yuther side er de crick. An’ w’en he turnt roun’ an’ sta’ted back in de woods, he heared de same thing behin’ ’im. + 

“ ‘Turnt ter clay! turnt ter clay! turnt ter clay!’ + 

“Dem wo’ds kep’ ringin’ in ’is yeahs ’til he fin’lly ’lowed dey wuz boun’ ter be so, er e’se dey wouldn’ a b’en tol ter ’im, an’ dat he had libbed on clay so long an’ had eat so much, dat he must ’a’ jes nach’ly turnt ter clay!” + 

“Imperious Caesar, turned to clay, + 

Might stop a hole to keep the wind away,” + 

I murmured parenthentically. + 

“Yas, suh,” said the old man, “turnt ter clay. But you’s mistook in de name, suh; hit wuz Ben, you ’member, not Caesar. Ole Mars Marrabo did hab a nigger name’ Caesar, but dat wuz anudder one.” + 

“Don’t interrupt him, John,” said my wife impatiently. “What happened then, Julius?” + 

“Well, po’ Ben didn’ know w’at ter do. He had be’n lonesome ernuff befo’, but now he didn’ eben hab his own se’f ter ’so’ciate wid, fer he felt mo’ lak a stranger ’n he did lak Ben. In a day er so mo’ he ’mence ter wonder whuther he wuz libbin’ er not. He had hearn ’bout folks turnin’ ter clay w’en dey wuz dead, an’ he ’lowed maybe he wuz dead an’ didn’ knowed it, an’ dat wuz de reason w’y eve’body run erway f’m ’im an’ wouldn’ hab nuffin’ ter do wid ’im. An’ ennyhow, he ’lowed ef he wa’n’t dead, he mought’s well be. He wande’ed roun’ a day er so mo’, an’ fin’lly de lonesomeness, an’ de sleepin’ out in de woods, ’mongs’ de snakes an’ sco’pions, an’ not habbin’ nuffin’ fit ter eat, ’mence ter tell on him, mo’ an’ mo’, an’ he kep’ gittin’ weakah an’ weakah ’til one day, w’en he went down by de crick fer ter git a drink er water, he foun’ his limbs gittin’ so stiff hit ’uz all he could do ter crawl up on de bank an’ lay down in de sun. He laid dere ’til he died, an’ de sun beat down on ’im, an’ beat down on ’im, an’ beat down on ’im, fer th’ee er fo’ days, ’til it baked ’im as ha’d as a brick. An’ den a big win’ come erlong an’ blowed a tree down, an’ it fell on ’im an’ smashed ’im all ter pieces, an’ groun’ ’im ter powder. An’ den a big rain come erlong, an’ washed ’im in de crick, ’an eber sence den de water in dat crick’s b’en jes’ as yer sees it now. An dat wuz de een’ er po’ lonesome Ben, an’ dat’s de reason w’y I knows dat clay’ll make brick an’ w’y I doan nebber lak ter see no black folks eat’n it.” + 

My wife came of a family of reformers, who could never contemplate an evil without seeking an immediate remedy. When I decided that the bank of edible clay was not fit for brickmaking, she asked me if I would not have it carted away, suggesting at the same time that it could be used to fill a low place in another part of the plantation. + 

“It would be too expensive,” I said. + 

“Oh, no,” she replied, “I don’t think so. I have been talking with Uncle Julius about it, and he says he has a nephew who is out of employment, and who will take the contract for ten dollars, if you will furnish the mule and cart, and board him while the job lasts.” + 

As I had no desire to add another permanent member to my household, I told her it would be useless; that if the people did not get clay there they would find it elsewhere, and perhaps an inferior quality which might do greater harm, and that the best way to stop them from eating it was to teach them self-respect, when she had opportunity, and those habits of industry and thrift whereby they could get their living from the soil in a manner less direct but more commendable. + 

A Victim of Heredity + 

Or, Why the Darkey Loves Chicken + 

I went to North Carolina a few years after the war with some hopeful views in regard to the colored people. It was my idea that with the larger opportunities of freedom they would improve gradually and learn in due time to appreciate the responsibilities of citizenship. This opinion, based on simple faith in human nature, which is much the same the world over, I never saw any good reason to change. + 

There were a few of my dusky neighbors, however, who did not shake off readily the habits formed under the old system, and I suffered more or less, from petty thievery. So long as it was confined to grapes on the vine, or roasting-ears, hanging fruit, or an occasional watermelon, I did not complain so much; but one summer, after several raids upon my henhouse, I determined to protect my property. I therefore kept watch one night, and caught a chicken-thief in the very act. I locked him up in a strongly-built smokehouse, where I thought he would be safe until morning. + 

I made up my mind, before I went to sleep, that an example must be made of this miscreant. Knowing that the law in North Carolina, as elsewhere, was somewhat elastic, and the degree of punishment for crime largely dependent upon the vigor of the prosecution. I decided that five years in the penitentiary would be about right for this midnight marauder. It would give him time to break off the habit of stealing, and would strike terror to the hearts of other evildoers. + 

In the morning I went down to the smokehouse to inspect my captive. He was an insignificant looking fellow, and seemed very much frightened. I sent him down something to eat, and told him I was going have him taken to jail. + 

During breakfast I turned the matter over in my mind, and concluded that five years’ imprisonment would be a punishment rather disproportioned to the offence, and that perhaps two years in the penitentiary would be an equally effective warning. + 

One of my servants was going to town toward noon, with a load of grapes for shipment to the nearest market, and I wrote a note to the sheriff, Mr. Weems, requesting him to send a constable out to take charge of the thief. The ink was scarcely dry before it occurred to me that over-severity in the punishment of crime was often productive of harm, and had seldom resulted in any good, and that in all probability, taking everything into consideration, a year in jail in the neighborhood would be ample punishment, and a more impressive object-lesson than a longer term in the more distant penitentiary. + 

During the afternoon I learned, upon inquiry, that my captive had a large family and a sick wife; that because of a trifling disposition he was without steady employment, and therefore dependent upon odd jobs for a livelihood. But while these personal matters might be proper subjects of consideration for the humanitarian, I realized that any false sentiment on my part would be dangerous to social order; and that property must be protected, or soon there would be no incentive to industry and thrift. I determined that the thief should have at least six months in jail, if I had to support his family during his incarceration. + 

I was sitting on the front piazza, indulging in a quiet smoke during the hot part of the afternoon, just after having arrived at the final conclusion, when old Julius came around the house, and, touching his hat, asked at what time my wife wished the rockaway brought round for our afternoon drive. + 

“I hardly think we shall go today,” I replied, “until the constable has come and taken that thief to jail. By the way, Julius,” I added with some severity, “why is it that your people can’t let chickens alone?” + 

The old man shook his head sadly. + 

“It’s a myst’ry, suh,” he answered with a sigh, “dat ev’ybody doan understan’. Ef dey did, some un ’em mought make mo’ ’lowance.” + 

My wife came out of the house and took a seat in an armchair near me, behind the honeysuckle vine. + 

“I am asking Julius to explain,” I said, “why his people are so partial to chickens.” + 

“I think it unkind, John,” returned my wife, “to charge upon a whole race the sins of one worthless individual. There are thieves wherever there is portable property, and I don’t imagine colored people like chicken better than other people.” + 

Old Julius shook his head dissentingly. “I is bleedzd ter differ fum you dere, ma’m,” he said, with as much positiveness as he was capable of in conversation with white people; “cullud folks is mo’ fonder er chick’n ’n w’ite folks. Dey can’t he’p but be.” + 

“Why so?” I asked. “Is it in the blood?” + 

“You’s is hit it, suh, de fus’ sta’t-off. Yas, suh, dat is de fac’, tooby sho’, en no mistake erbout it.” + 

“Why, Uncle Julius!” exclaimed my wife with some show of indignation. “You ought to be ashamed to slander your race in that way.” + 

“I begs yo’ pardon, ma’m, ef it hu’ts yo’ feelin’s, but I ain’ findin’ no fault wid dem. Dey ain’ ’sponsible fer dey tas’e fer chick’n-meat. A w’ite man’s ter blame fer dat.” + 

“Well,” I said, “that statement is interesting. Sit down and tell us all about it.” + 

Julius took a seat on the top step, and laying his ragged straw hat beside him, began: + 

“Long yeahs befo’ de wah dey wuz a monst’us rich w’ite gent’eman, name’ Mars Donal’ McDonal’, w’at useter lib down on de yuther side er de Wim’l’ton Road. He hadn’ alluz be’n rich, fer w’en he fus’ come ter dis country he wuz po’, en he wukked fer a yeah er so as oberseah fer ernudder w’ite man, ’tel he had save’ money ’nuff ter buy one er two niggers, en den he rented a place on sheers, en bimeby he had bought a plantation en bought some mo’ niggers en raise’ some, ’tel he ’mence’ ter be so well-off dat folks mos’ fergot he had eber be’n a nigger-driber. He kep’ on gittin’ richer en richer, ’tel fin’lly he wuz one er de riches’ men in de county. + 

“But he wa’n’t sat’sfied. He had a neffy, name’ Tom, en Mars Donal’ had be’n lef’ gyardeen fer dis yer neffy er his’n, en he had manage’ so dat w’en young Mars Tom growed up dey wa’n’t nuffin at all lef’ er de fine proputty w’at young Mars Tom’s daddy had had w’en he died. + 

“Folks said Mars Donal’ had rob’ his neffy, but dey wa’n’t no way ter prove it. En mo’d’n dat, Mars Donal’ didn’ ’pear ter lak Mars Tom a-tall atter he growed up, en turnt ’im out in de worl’ ter shif’ fer hisse’f widout no money ner nuffin. + 

“Mars Tom had be’n co’tin’ fer lo! dese many yeahs his secon’ cousin, young Miss ’Liza M’Guire, who useter lib on de yuther side er de ribber, en young Mars Tom wanter ter marry Miss ’Liza monst’us bad. But w’en Mars Tom come er age, en Mars Donal’ say all his proputty done use’ up on his edication, Miss ’Liza’s daddy say he wouldn’ ’low her ter marry Mars Tom ’tel he make some money, er show her daddy how he wuz gwine ter suppo’t Miss ’Liza ef he married her. + 

“De young folks wa’n’t ’lowed ter see one ernudder ve’y often, but Mars Tom had a batteau down on de ribber en he useter paddle ober sometimes ter meet Miss ’Liza whuther er no. + 

“One eb’nin’ Mars Tom went down ter de ribber en ontied his batteau en wuz startin’ ter cross w’en he heared somebody holler. He looked roun’ en he see hit wuz a’ ole nigger ’oman had fell in de ribber. She had sunk once, en wuz gwine down ag’in, w’en Mars Tom cotch ’er en pull’t’ er out, en gin er a drink er sump’n he had in a flas’, en den tied his boat en he’ped ’er up de bank ter de top, whar she could git ’long by herse’f. + 

“Now, dis yer ’oman w’at Mars Tom pull’t out’n de ribber des happen’ ter be ole Aun’ Peggy, de free-nigger cunjuh ’oman w’at libbed down by de Wim’l’ton Road. She had be’n diggin’ roots fer her cunj’in’, en had got too close ter de ribber, en had fell in whar de water wuz deep en strong, en had come monst’us close ter bein’ drownded. Aun’ Peggy knowed all ’bout Mars Tom en his uncle ole Mars Donal’ en his junesey Miss ’Liza, en she made up her min’ dat she wuz gwine ter do sump’n fer young Mars Tom de fus’ chanst she got. She wuz wond’rin’ wot kinder goopher she could wuk fer Mars Tom, w’en who should come ter see her one day but ole Mars Donal’ hisse’f. + 

“Now, w’y Mars Donal’ come ter go ter see ole Aun’ Peggy wuz dis erway. Mars Donal’ had be’n gittin’ richer en richer, en closeter en closeter, ’tel he’d got so he’d mos’ skin a flea fer his hide en taller. But he wa’n’t sat’sfied, en he kep’ on projickin’ wid one thing en fig’rin’ on ernudder, fer ter see how he could git mo’ en mo’. He wuz a’ready wukkin’ his niggers ez ha’d ez dey could stan’, but he got his ’count-book out one day en ’mence’ ter cackilate w’at it cos’ ’im ter feed his niggers, en it ’peared ter be a monst’us sum. En he ’lowed ter hisse’f dat ef he could feed his niggers fer ’bout half er w’at it had b’en costin’ ’im, he’d save a heap er money ev’y yeah. + 

“Co’se ev’ybody knowed, en Mars Donal’ knowed, dat a fiel’-han’ had ter hab so much bacon en so much meal and so much merlasses a week ter make ’im fittin’ ter do his wuk. But Mars Donal’ ’lowed dey mought be some way ter fool de niggers, er sump’n; so he tuk a silber dollar en went down ter see ole Aun’ Peggy. + 

“Aun’ Peggy laid de silber dollar on de mantelpiece en heared w’at he had to say, en den she ’lowed she’d wuk her roots, en he’d hafter come back nex’ day en fetch her ernudder silber dollar, en she’d tell ’im w’at he sh’d do. + 

“Mars Donal’ sta’ted out, en bein’ ez Aun’ Peggy’s back wuz tu’nt, he ’lowed he’d take dat silber dollar ’long wid ’im, bein’ ez she hadn’ tole ’im nuffin, en’ he’d gin it ter her nex’ day. But w’en he pick’ up de silber dollar, it wuz so hot it bu’nt ’is han’, he laid it down rale quick en’ went off rubbin’ his han’ en’ cussin’ kinder sof’ ter hisse’f. + 

“De nex’ day he went back, en Aun’ Peggy gun ’im a goopher mixtry in a bottle. + 

“ ‘You take dis yer mixtry,’ sez she, ‘en put it on yo’ niggers rashuns de nex’ time you gibs ’em out, en den stidder ’lowin’ yo’ han’s a poun’ er bacon en a peck er meal en a qua’t er merlasses, you gin ’em half a poun’ er bacon en half a peck er meal en a pint er merlasses, en dey won’ know de diffe’nce. Fac’, dis yer goopher mixtry’ll make de half look des lak de whole, en’ atter de niggers has once eat some er dat conju’d meat en meal en merlasses it’s gwine ter take dey ap’tites erway so dey’ll be des ez well sat’sfied ez ef dey had a side a bacon en a bairl er flour.’ + 

“W’en Mars Donal’ sta’ted erway Aun’ Peggy sez, sez she: + 

“ ‘You done fergot dat yuther dollar, ain’ you, Mars Donal’?’ + 

“ ‘Oh, yes, Peggy,’ sezee, ‘but heah it is.’ En Mars Donal’ retch’ down in his pocket en pull’t out a han’ful er gol’ en silber, en picked out a lead dollar en handed it ter Aun’ Peggy. Aun’ Peggy seed de dollar wuz bad, but she tuk it en didn’ let on. But ez Mars Donal’ wuz turnin’ ter go ’way, Aun’ Peggy sprinkle’ sump’n on dat lead dollar, en sez she: + 

“ ‘O Mars Donal’ kin I get you ter change a twenty-dollar gol’ piece fer me?’ + 

“ ‘Yas, I reckon,’ sezee. + 

“Aun’ Peggy handed him de lead dollar, en he looked at it en bit it en sounded it on de table, en it ’peared ter be a bran’-noo gol’ piece; so he tuk’n pull’t out his pu’se an gun Aun’ Peggy th’ee five-dollar gol’ pieces en five good silber dollars, en den he tuk his goopher mixtry en went ’long home wid it. + 

“W’en Mars Donal’ had gone, Aun’ Peggy sont a mawkin’-bird fer ter tell young Mars Tom ter came en see her. + 

“Mars Tom wuz gwine ’long de road one eb’nin’ w’en he heared a mawkin’-bird singin’ right close ter ’im, en’ de mawkin’-bird seem’ ter be a-sayin’: + 

“ ‘Go see ole Aun’ Peggy, + 

She wants ter see you bad, + 

She’ll show you how ter git back + 

De lan’ yo’ daddy had.’ + 

“Mars Tom wuz studyin’ ’bout sump’n e’se, en he didn’ pay no ’tention ter w’at de mawkin’-bird say. So pretty soon he heahs de mawkin’-bird ag’in: + 

“ ‘Go en see Aun’ Peggy, + 

She wants ter see you bad, + 

She’s gwine ter he’p you git back + 

The gol’ yo’ daddy had.’ + 

“But Mars Tom had sump’n e’se on his min’, en he wuz gwine on down de road right pas’ whar Aun’ Peggy lib w’en de mawkin’-bird come up en mos’ pe’ched on his shoulders, en sez, des ez plain ez ef he wuz talkin’: + 

“ ‘Go see ole Aun’ Peggy, + 

Er e’se you’ll wush you had; + 

She’ll show you how ter marry + 

De gal you wants so bad.’ + 

“Dat happen’ ter be des w’at Mars Tom wuz studyin’ erbout, en he ’mence’ ter ’low dey mought be sump’n in w’at dis yer mawkin’-bird say, so he up’n’ goes ter see Aun’ Peggy. + 

“Aun’ Peggy say how glad she wuz ter see ’im, en tol’ ’im how she’d be’n wantin’ ter do sump’n fer ’im. En den she ’splained ’bout Mars Donal’, en tole Mars Tom sump’n w’at he mus’ go en do. + 

“ ‘But I ain’ got no money, Aun’ Peggy,’ sezee. + 

“ ‘Nemmine,’ sez Aun’ Peggy, ‘You borry all de money you kin rake en scrape, en git all de credit you kin, en I ain’ be’n cunj’in’ all dese yeahs fer nuffin, en I’ll len’ you some money. But you do des ez I tell you, en doan git skeert, en ev’ything’ll tu’n out des exac’ly ez I say.’ + 

“Ole Mars Donal’ sprinkle’ de goopher mixtry on his niggers’ rashuns, nex’ Sunday mawnin’, en den sarved out half rashuns, des ez Aun’ Peggy say, en sho’ ’nuff, de niggers didn’ ’pear ter notice no diffe’nce, des ez Aun’ Peggy say. En all de week none er de han’s didn’ say nuffin ’bout not habbin’ ’nuff ter eat, en dey ’peared ter be des ez well sat’sfied ez ef dey’d got dey reg’lar rashuns. + 

“Mars Donal’ figgered up his books at de een’ er a week er so en foun’ he had sabe’ so much money dat he ’mence’ ter wonder ef he couldn’ sabe some mo’. En bein’ ez de niggers wuz all gittin’ ’long so nice, en de cotton had be’n laid by, en de fiel’-han’s wouldn’ hab ter wuk so tarrable ha’d fer a mont’ er so, Mars Donal’ ’lowed he’d use Aun’ Peggy’s goopher some mo’, en so he tuk’n sprinkle’ some mo’ er de mixtry on de nex’ week’s rashuns en den cut de rashuns in two once mo’; stidder givin’ de han’s a half a peck er meal en a pint er merlasses en half a poun’ er bacon, he gun ’em a qua’ter er a peck er meal en half a pint er merlasses en fo’ ounces er meat fer a week’s rashuns. De goopher wukked des de same ez it had befo’, en de niggers didn’ ’pear ter notice no diffe’nce. Mars Donal’ wuz tickle’ mos’ ter def, en kep’ dis up right along fer th’ee er fo’ weeks. + 

“But Mars Donal’ had be’n so busy fig’rin’ up his profits en’ countin’ his money, dat he hadn’ be’n payin’ ez close ’tention ter his niggers ez yushal, en fus’ thing he knowed, w’en de ha’d wuk begun ag’in, he ’skivered dat mos’ er his niggers wuz so weak en feeble dat dey couldn’ ha’dly git ’roun’ de plantation; ’peared es ef dey had des use’ up all de strenk dey had, en den des all gun out at once. + 

“Co’se Mars Donal’ got skeert, en ’mence’ ter gib’ em dey reg’lar rashuns. But somehow er nuther dey didn’ ’pear ter hab no ap’tite, en dey wouldn’ come fer dey rashuns w’en dey week wuz up, but ’lowed dey had ’nuff ter las’ ’em fer a mont’. En meanw’iles dey kep’ on gittin po’er an po’er, en weaker en weaker, ’tel Mars Donal’ got so skeert he hasten’ back ter see ole Aun’ Peggy en ax’ her ter take dat goopher off’n his niggers. + 

“Aun’ Peggy knowed w’at Mars Donal’ had done ’bout cuttin’ down de rashuns, but she wa’n’t ready to finish up wid Mars Donal’ yit; so she didn’ let on, but des gun ’im ernudder mixtry, en tol’ ’im fer to sprinkle dat on de niggers’ nex’ rashuns. + 

“Mars Donal’ sprinkle’ it on, but it didn’ do no good, en nex’ week he come back ag’in. + 

“ ‘Dis yer mixtry ain’ got no power, Peggy,’ sezee. ‘It ain’ ’sturb’ de yuther goopher a-tall.’ + 

“ ‘I doan unnerstan’ dis,’ sez Aun’ Peggy; ‘how did you use dat fus’ mixtry I gun you?’ + 

“Well, den Mars Donal’ ’lowed how he had sprinkle’ it on de fus’ time, en how it wukked so good dat he had sprinkle’ it on de nex’ time en cut de rashuns in two ag’in. + 

“ ‘Uh huh, uh huh!’ ’spon’ Aun’ Peggy, ‘look w’at you gone en done! You wa’n’t sat’sfied wid w’at I tol’ you, en now you gone en got ev’ything all mess’ up. I knows how ter take dat fus’ goopher off, but now you gone en double de strenk, en I doan know whuther I kin fin’ out how to take it off er no. Anyhow, I got ter wuk my roots fer a week er so befo’ I kin tell. En w’ile’s I is wukkin’, you mought gib yo’ niggers sump’n a little better ter eat, en dey mought pick up a little. S’posen you tries roas’ po’k?’ + 

“So Mars Donal’ killt all ’is hawgs en fed his niggers on roas’ po’k fer a week; but it didn’ do ’em no good, en at de een’ er de week he went back ter Aun’ Peggy ag’in. + 

“ ‘I’s monst’us sorry,’ she sez, ‘but it ain’ my fault. I’s wukkin’ my roots ez ha’d ez I kin, but I ain’ foun’ out how ter take de goopher off yit. S’pos’n you feed yo han’s on roas’ beef fer a week er so?’ + 

“So Mars Donal’ killt all ’is cows en fed de niggers on roas’ beef fer a week, but dey didn’ pick up. En all dis time dey wa’n’ wukkin’, en Mars Donal’s craps wuz gittin’ ’way behin’, en he wuz gwine mos’ ’tracted fer fear he wuz bleedzd ter lose dem five hund’ed niggers w’at he sot so much sto’ by. So he goes back ter ole Aun’ Peggy ag’in. + 

“ ‘Peggy,’ sezee, ‘you is got ter do sump’n fer me, er e’se I’ll be in de po’-house fus’ thing I know.’ + 

“ ‘Well, suh,’ sez Aun’ Peggy, ‘I’s be’n doin’ all I knows how, but dey’s a root I’s bleedzd ter hab, en it doan grow nowhar but down in Robeson County. En I got ter go down dere en gether it on a Friday night in de full er de moon. En I won’t be back yer fer a week or ten days.’ + 

“Mars Donal’ wuz mos’ out’n his min’ wid waitin’ en losin’ money. ‘But s’posen dem niggers dies on my han’s w’iles you er gone,’ sezee, ‘w’at is I gwine ter do?’ + 

“Aun’ Peggy studied en studied, en den she up en sez, sez she: + 

“ ‘Well, ef dey dies I reckon you’ll hatter bury ’em. Dey is one thing you mought try, en I s’pec’s it’s ’bout de only thing w’at’ll keep yo’ niggers alibe ’tel I gits back. You mought see ef dey won’ eat chick’n.’ + 

“Well, Mars Donal’ wanted ter sabe his niggers. Dey wuz all so po’ en so skinny en so feeble dat he couldn’ sell ’em ter nobody, en dey wouldn’ eat nuffin’ e’se, so he des had ter feed ’em on chick’n. W’en he had use’ up all de chick’ns on his place, he went roun’ ter his nabers ter buy chick’ns en dey say dey wuz sorry, but dey’d sol’ all dey chick’ns ter a man in town. Mars Donal’ went ter dis yer man, en he say dem chick’ns doan b’long ter him but ter ernudder man w’at wuz geth’in’ chick’ns fer ter ship ter Wim’l’ton, er de No’f, er some’ers. Mars Donal’ say he des bleedzd ter hab chick’ns, en fer dat man to see de yuther gente’man en ax ’im w’at he’d take fer dem chick’ns. De nex’ day de man say Mars Donal’ could hab de chick’ns fer so much, w’ich wuz ’bout twicet ez much ez chick’ns had be’n fetchin’ in de mahket befo’. It mos’ broke Mars Donal’s hea’t, but he ’lowed dem chick’ns would las’ ’tel Aun’ Peggy come back en tuk de goopher off’n de niggers. + 

“But w’en de een’ er de week wuz retch’, ole Aun’ Peggy hadn’ come back, en Mars Donal’ had ter hab mo’ chick’ns, fer chick’n-meat des barely ’peared ter keep de niggers alibe; en so he went out in de country fer ter hunt fer chick’ns. En ev’ywhar he’d go, dis yuther man had be’n befo’ ’im en had bought up all de chick’ns, er contracted fer ’em all, en Mars Donal’ had ter go back ter dis man in town en pay two prices ter git chick’ns ter feed his niggers. + 

“De nex’ week it wuz de same way, en Mars Donal’ ’mence’ ter git desp’rit. He sont way off in two er th’ee counties, fer ter hunt chick’ns, but high er low, no matter whar, dis yuther man had be’n befo’, ’tel it ’peared lak he had bought up all de chick’ns in No’f Ca’lina. + 

“But w’at wuz dribin’ Mars Donal’ mos’ crazy wuz de money he had ter spen’ fer dese chick’ns. It had mos’ broke his hea’t fer ter kill all his hawgs, en he had felt wuss w’en he hatter kill all his cows. But w’en dis yer chick’n business begun, it come mighty nigh ruinin’ ’im. Fus’, he spen’ all de money he had saved feedin’ de niggers. Den he spent all de money he had in de bank, er sto’ed away. Den he borried all de money he could on his notes, en he des ’bout retch’ de pint whar he’d hatter mawgidge his plantation fer ter raise mo’ money ter buy chick’ns fer his niggers, w’en one day Aun’ Peggy come back fum Robeson County en tol’ Mars Donal’ she had foun’ de root she ’uz lookin’ fer, en gun ’im a mixtry fer ter take de goopher off’n de niggers. + 

“ ‘Dis yer mixtry;’ sez she, ‘ ’ll fetch yo’ niggers ap’tites back en make ’em eat dey rashuns en git dey strenk back ag’in. But you is use’ dat yuther mixtry so strong, en put dat goopher on so ha’d, dat I ’magine its got in dey blood, en I’s feared dey ain’ nobody ner nuffin kin eber take it all off’n ’em. So I ’spec’s you’ll hatter gib yo’ niggers chick’n at leas’ oncet a week ez long ez dey libs, ef you wanter git de wuk out’n ’em dat you oughter. + 

“Dey wuz so many niggers on ole Mars Donal’s plantation,” continued Julius, “en dey got scattered roun’ so befo’ de wah en sence, dat dey ain’ ha’dly no cullu’d folks in No’f Ca’lina but w’at’s has got some er de blood er dem goophered niggers in dey vames. En so eber sence den, all de niggers in No’f Ca’lina has ter hab chick’n at leas’ oncet er week fer ter keep dey healt’ en strenk. En dat’s w’y cullu’ folks laks chick’n mo’d’n w’ite folks.” + 

“What became of Tom and his sweetheart?” asked my wife. + 

“Yas’m” said Julius, “I wuz a-comin’ ter dat. De nex’ week atter de goopher wuz tuk off’n de niggers, Mars Tom come down ter Aun’ Peggy, en paid her back de money he borried. En he tol’ Aun’ Peggy he had made mo’ money buyin’ chick’ns en sellin’ ’em ter his Uncle Donal’ dan his daddy had lef’ ’im w’en he died, en he say he wuz gwine ter marry Miss ’Liza en buy a big plantation en a lot er niggers en hol’ up his head ’mongs’ de big w’ite folks des lak he oughter. En he tol’ Aun’ Peggy he wuz much bleedzd ter her, en ef she got ti’ed cunj’in’ en wanter res’ en lib easy, she could hab a cabin on his plantation en a stool by his kitchen fiah, en all de chick’n en wheat-bread she wanter eat, en all de terbacker she wanter smoke ez long ez she mought stay in dis worl’ er sin en sorrer.” + 

I had occasion to visit the other end of the vineyard shortly after Julius had gone shambling down the yard toward the barn. I left word that the constable should be asked to wait until my return. I was detained longer than I expected, and when I came back I asked if the officer had arrived. + 

“Yes,” my wife replied, “he came.” + 

“Where is he?” I asked. + 

“Why, he’s gone.” + 

“Did he take the chicken-thief?” + 

“I’ll tell you, John,” said my wife, with a fine thoughtful look, “I’ve been thinking more or less about the influence of heredity and environment, and the degree of our responsibility for the things we do, and while I have not been able to get everything reasoned out, I think I can trust my intuitions. The constable came a while after you left, but I told him that you had changed your mind, and that he might send in his bill for time lost and you would pay for it.” + 

“And what am I going to do with Sam Jones?” I asked. + 

“Oh,” she replied, “I told Julius he might unlock the smokehouse and let him go.” + 

Tobe’s Tribulations + 

About half a mile from our house on the North Carolina sand-hills there lay, at the foot of a vine-clad slope, and separated from my scuppernong vineyard by a rail fence, a marsh of some extent. It was drained at a somewhat later date, but at the time to which I now refer spread for half a mile in length and a quarter of a mile in breadth. Having been planted in rice many years before, it therefore contained no large trees, but was grown up chiefly in reeds and coarse grasses, with here and there a young sycamore or cypress. Though this marsh was not visible from our house, nor from any road that we used, it was nevertheless one of the most prominent features of our environment. We might sometimes forget its existence in the daytime, but it never failed to thrust itself upon our attention after night had fallen. + 

It may be that other localities in our neighborhood were infested with frogs; but if so, their vocal efforts were quite overborne by the volume of sound that issued nightly from this particular marsh. As soon as the red disk of the sun had set behind the pines the performance would begin, first perhaps with occasional shrill pipings, followed by a confused chattering; then, as the number of participants increased, growing into a steady drumming, punctuated every moment by the hoarse bellowing note of some monstrous bullfrog. If the day had perchance been rainy, the volume of noise would be greater. For a while after we went to live in the neighborhood, this ceaseless, strident din made night hideous, and we would gladly have dispensed with it. But as time wore on we grew accustomed to our nocturnal concert; we began to differentiate its notes and to distinguish a sort of rude harmony in these voices of the night; and after we had become thoroughly accustomed to it, I doubt whether we could have slept comfortably without their lullaby. + 

But I had not been living long in the vicinity of this frog-pond before its possibilities as a source of food-supply suggested themselves to my somewhat practical mind. I was unable to learn that any of my white neighbors indulged in the delicate article of diet which frogs’ legs might be made to supply; and strangely enough, among the Negroes, who would have found in the tender flesh of the batrachian a toothsome and bountiful addition to the coarse food that formed the staple of their diet, its use for that purpose was entirely unknown. + 

One day I went frog-fishing and brought home a catch of half a dozen. Our colored cook did not know how to prepare them, and looked on the whole proceeding with ill-concealed disgust. So my wife, with the aid of a cookbook, dressed the hind legs quite successfully in the old-fashioned way, and they were served at supper. We enjoyed the meal very much, and I determined that thereafter we would have the same dish often. + 

Our supper had been somewhat later than usual, and it was dusk before we left the table and took our seats on the piazza. We had been there but a little while when old Julius, our colored coachman, came around the house and approaching the steps asked for some instructions with reference to the stable-work. As the matter required talking over, I asked him to sit down. When we had finished our talk the old man did not go away immediately, and we all sat for a few moments without speaking. The night was warm but not sultry; there was a sort of gentle melancholy in the air, and the chorus from the distant frog-pond seemed pitched this night in something of a minor key. + 

“Dem frogs is makin’ dey yuzh’al racket ternight,” observed the old man, breaking the silence. + 

“Yes,” I replied, “they are very much in evidence. By the way, Annie, perhaps Julius would like some of those frogs’ legs. I see Nancy hasn’t cleared the table yet.” + 

“No ma’m,” responded Julius quickly, “I’s much obleedzd, but I doan eat no frog-laigs; no, suh, no ma’m, I doan eat no frog-laigs, not ef I knows w’at I’s eatin’!” + 

“Why not, Julius?” I asked. “They are excellent eating.” + 

“You listen right close, suh,” he answered, “en you’ll heah a pertic’ler bull-frog down yander in dat ma’sh. Listen! Dere he goes now⁠—callin’, callin’, callin’! sad en mo’nful, des lak somebody w’at’s los’ somewhar, en can’t fin’ de way back.” + 

“I hear it distinctly,” said my wife after a moment. “It sounds like the lament of a lost soul.” + 

I had never heard the vocal expression of a lost soul, but I tried, without success, to imagine that I could distinguish one individual croak from another. + 

“Well, what is there about that frog, Julius,” I inquired, “that makes it any different from the others?” + 

“Dat’s po’ Tobe,” he responded solemnly, “callin’ Aun’ Peggy⁠—po’ ole Aun’ Peggy w’at’s dead en gone ter de good Marster, yeahs en yeahs ago.” + 

“Tell us about Tobe, Julius,” I asked. I could think of no more appropriate time for one of the old man’s stories. His views of life were so entirely foreign to our own, that for a time after we got acquainted with him his conversations were a never-failing source of novelty and interest. He had seen life from what was to us a new point of view⁠—from the bottom, as it were; and there clung to his mind, like barnacles to the submerged portion of a ship, all sorts of extravagant beliefs. The simplest phenomena of life were to him fraught with hidden meaning⁠—some prophesy of good, some presage of evil. The source of these notions I never traced, though they doubtless could be easily accounted for. Some perhaps were dim reflections of ancestral fetishism; more were the superstitions, filtered through the negro intellect, of the Scotch settlers who had founded their homes on Cape Fear at a time when a kelpie haunted every Highland glen, and witches, like bats, darkened the air as they flew by in their nocturnal wanderings. But from his own imagination, I take it⁠—for I never heard quite the same stories from anyone else⁠—he gave to the raw material of folklore and superstition a fancifulness of touch that truly made of it, to borrow a homely phrase, a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. And if perhaps, at times, his stories might turn out to have a purpose apart from any esthetic or didatic end, he probably reasoned, with a philosophy for which there is high warrant, that the laborer was worthy of his hire. + 

“ ’Bout fo’ty years ago,” began Julius, “ole Mars Dugal McAdoo⁠—my ole marster⁠—useter own a man name’ Tobe. Dis yer Tobe wuz a slow kind er nigger, en w’iles he’d alluz git his tas’ done, he’d hafter wuk harder ’n any yuther nigger on de place ter do it. One time he had a monst’us nice ’oman fer a wife, but she got bit by a rattlesnake one summer en died, en dat lef’ Tobe kind er lonesome. En mo’ d’n dat, Tobe’s wife had be’n cook at de big house, en eve’y night she’d fetch sump’n down ter her cabin fer Tobe; en he foun’ it mighty ha’d ter go back ter bacon and co’n-bread atter libbin’ off’n de fat er de lan’ all dese yeahs. + 

“Des ’bout a mont’ er so atter Tobe’s wife died, dey wuz a nigger run ’way fum ole Mars Marrabo McSwayne’s⁠—de nex’ plantation⁠—en in spite er all de w’ite folks could do, dis yer nigger got clean off ter a free state in de Norf, en bimeby he writ a sassy letter back ter Mars Marrabo, en sont ’im a bill fer de wuk he done fer ’im fer twenty yeahs er mo’, at a dollah en a half a day⁠—w’at he say he wuz gittin’ at de Norf. One er de gals w’at wukked roun’ de big house heared de w’ite folks gwine on ’bout it, en she say Mars Marrabo cusst en swo’ des tarrable, en ole missis ’mos’ wep’ fer ter think how ongrateful dat nigger wuz, not on’y ter run ’way, but to write back sich wick’niss ter w’ite folks w’at had alluz treated ’im good, fed ’im en clothed ’im, en nussed ’im wen he wuz sick, en nebber let ’im suffer fer nuffin all his life. + 

“But Tobe heared ’bout dis yer nigger, en he tuk a notion he’d lak ter run ’way en go ter de Norf en be free en git a dollah en a half a day too. But de mo’ he studied ’bout it, de ha’der it ’peared ter be. In de fus’ place, de Norf wuz a monst’us long ways off, en de dawgs mought track ’im, er de patteroles mought ketch ’im, er he mought sta’ve ter def ca’se he couldn’ git nuffin ter eat on de way; en ef he wuz cotch’ he wuz lakly ter be sol’ so fur souf dat he’d nebber hab no chance ter git free er eber see his ole frien’s nuther. + 

“But Tobe kep’ on studyin’ ’bout runnin ’way ’tel fin’lly he ’lowed he’d go en see ole Aun’ Peggy, de cunjuh ’oman down by de Wim’l’ton Road, en ax her w’at wuz de bes’ way fer him ter sta’t. So he tuk a pa’r er pullets down ter Aun’ Peggy one night en tol’ her all ’bout his hank’in’s en his longin’s, en ax’ her w’at he’d hafter do fer ter run ’way en git free. + 

“ ‘W’at you wanter be free fer?’ sez Aun’ Peggy. ‘Doan you git ernuff ter eat?’ + 

“ ‘Yas, I gits ernuff ter eat, but I’ll hab better vittles wen I’s free.’ + 

“ ‘Doan you git ernuff sleep?’ + 

“ ‘Yas, but I’ll sleep mo’ w’en I’s free.’ + 

“ ‘Does you wuk too had?’ + 

“ ‘No, I doan wuk too had fer a slabe nigger, but ef I wuz free I wouldn’ wuk a-tall ’less’n I felt lak it.’ + 

“Aun’ Peggy shuck her head. ‘I dunno, nigger,’ sez she, ‘whuther you gwine ter fin’ w’at you er huntin’ fer er no. But w’at is it you wants me ter do fer you?’ + 

“ ‘I wants you ter tell me de bes’ en easies’ way fer ter git ter de Norf en be free.’ + 

“ ‘Well,’ sez Aun’ Peggy, ‘I’s feared dey ain’ no easy way. De bes’ way fer you ter do is ter fix yo’ eye on de Norf Stah en sta’t. You kin put some tar on yo’ feet ter th’ow de houn’s off’n de scent, en ef you come ter a crick you mought wade ’long fer a mile er so. I sh’d say you bettah sta’t on Sad’day night, fer den mos’ lakly you won’ be miss’ ’tel Monday mawnin’, en you kin git a good sta’t on yo’ jou’ney. En den maybe in a mont’ er so you’ll retch de Norf en you’ll be free, en whar you kin eat all you want, ef you kin git it, en sleep ez long ez you mineter, ef you kin ’ford it, en whar you won’t hafter wuk ef you’d ruther go to jail.’ + 

“ ‘But w’at is I gwine ter eat dyo’in’ er dis yer mont’ I’s trabblin’?’ ax’ Tobe. ‘It makes me sick ef I doan git my reg’lar meals.’ + 

“ ‘Doan ax me,’ sez Aun’ Peggy. ‘I ain’ nebber seed de nigger yit w’at can’t fin’ sump’n ter eat.’ + 

“Tobe scratch’ his head. ‘En whar is I gwine to sleep dyo’in’ er dat mont’? I’ll hafter hab my reg’lar res’.’ + 

“ ‘Doan ax me,’ sez Aun’ Peggy. ‘You kin sleep in de woods in de daytime, en do yo’ trabblin’ at night.’ + 

“ ‘But s’pose’n a snake bites me?’ + 

“ ‘I kin gib you a cha’m fer ter kyo snake-bite.’ + 

“ ‘But s’pose’n’ de patteroles ketch me?’ + 

“ ‘Look a heah, nigger,’ sez Aun’ Peggy, ‘I’s ti’ed er yo’ s’pose’n’, en I’s was’e all de time on you I’s gwine ter fer two chick’ns. I’s feared you wants ter git free too easy. I s’pose you des wants ter lay down at night, do yo’ trabblin’ in yo’ sleep, en wake free in de mawn’in. You wants ter git a thousan’ dollah nigger fer nuffin’ en dat’s mo’ d’n anybody but de sma’test w’ite folks kin do. Go ’long back ter yo’ wuk, man, en doan come back ter me ’less’n you kin fetch me sump’n mo’.’ + 

“Now, Tobe knowed well ernuff dat ole Aun’ Peggy’d des be’n talkin’ ter heah herse’f talk, en so two er th’ee nights later he tuk a side er bacon en kyared it down ter her cabin. + 

“ ‘Uh huh,’ sez Aun’ Peggy, ‘dat is sump’n lak it. I s’pose you still ’lows you’d lak ter be free, so you kin eat w’at you mineter, en sleep all you wanter, en res’ w’eneber you feels dat erway?’ + 

“ ‘Yas’m, I wants ter be free, en I wants you ter fix things so I kin be sho’ ter git ter de Norf widout much trouble; fer I sho’ly does hate en ’spise trouble.’ + 

“Aun’ Peggy studied fer a w’ile, en den she tuk down a go’d off’n de she’f, en sez she:⁠— + 

“ ‘I’s got a goopher mixtry heah w’at’ll tu’n you ter a b’ar. You know dey use’ter be b’ars roun’ heah in dem ole days.’ + 

“Den she tuk down ernudder go’d. ‘En,’ she went on, ‘ef I puts some er dis yuther mixtry wid it, you’ll tu’n back ag’in in des a week er mont’ er two mont’s, ’cordin’ ter how much I puts in. Now, ef I tu’ns you ter a b’ar fer, say a mont’, en you is keerful en keeps ’way fum de hunters, you kin feed yo’se’f ez you goes ’long, en by de een’ er de mont’ you’ll be ter de Norf; en wen you tu’ns back you’ll tu’n back ter a free nigger, whar you kin do w’at you wanter, en go whar you mineter, en sleep ez long ez you please.’ + 

“So Tobe say all right, en Aun’ Peggy mix’ de goopher, en put it on Tobe en turn’t ’im ter a big black b’ar. + 

“Tobe sta’ted out to’ds de Norf, en went fifteen er twenty miles widout stoppin’. Des befo’ day in de mawnin’ he come ter a ’tater patch, en bein’ ez he wuz feelin’ sorter hongry, he stop’ fer a hour er so ’tel he got all de ’taters he could hol’. Den he sta’ted out ag’in, en bimeby he run ’cross a bee-tree en eat all de honey he could. ’Long to’ds ebenin’ he come ter a holler tree, en bein’ ez he felt kinder sleepy lak, he ’lowed he’d crawl in en take a nap. So he crawled in en went ter sleep. + 

“Meanw’ile, Monday mawn’in’ w’en de niggers went out in de fiel’ ter wuk, Tobe wuz missin’. All de niggers ’nied seein’ ’im, en ole Mars Dugal sont up ter town en hi’ed some dawgs, en gun ’em de scent, en dey follered it ter ole Aun’ Peggy’s cabin. Aun’ Peggy ’lowed yas, a nigger had be’n ter her cabin Sad’day night, en she had gun ’im a cha’m fer ter keep off de rheumatiz, en he had sta’ted off down to’ds de ribber, sayin’ he wuz ti’ed wukkin’ en wuz gwine fishin’ fer a mont’ er so. De w’ite folks hunted en hunted, but co’se dey didn’ fin’ Tobe. + 

“Bout a mont’ atter Tobe had run ’way, en wen Aun’ Peggy had mos’ fergot ’bout im, she wuz sett’n’ in her cabin one night, wukkin’ her roots, wen somebody knock’ at her do’. + 

“ ‘Who dere?’ sez she. + 

“ ‘It’s me, Tobe; open de do’, Aun’ Peggy.’ + 

“Sho’ ’nuff, w’en Aun’ Peggy tuk down de do’-bar, who sh’d be stan’in’ dere but Tobe. + 

“ ‘Whar is you come fum, nigger?’ ax’ Aun’ Peggy, ‘I ’lowed you mus’ be ter de Norf by dis time, en free, en libbin’ off’n de fat er de lan’.’ + 

“ ‘You must ’a s’pected me ter trabbel monst’us fas’ den,’ sez Tobe, ‘fer I des sta’ted fum heah yistiddy mawnin’, en heah I is turnt back ter a nigger ag’in befo’ I’d ha’dly got useter walkin’ on all-fours. Dey’s sump’n de matter wid dat goopher er yo’n, fer yo’ cunj’in’ ain’ wuk right dis time. I crawled in a holler tree ’bout six o’clock en went ter sleep, en wen I woke up in de mawnin’ I wuz tu’nt back ag’in, en bein’ ez I hadn’ got no fu’ther ’n Rockfish Crick, I des ’lowed I’d come back en git dat goopher w’at I paid fer fix’ right.’ + 

“Aun’ Peggy scratched her head en studied a minute, en den sez she:⁠— + 

“ ‘Uh huh! I sees des w’at de trouble is. I is tu’nt you ter a b’ar heah in de fall, en wen you come ter a holler tree you crawls in en goes ter sleep fer de winter, des lak any yuther b’ar’d do; en ef I hadn’ mix’ dat yuther goopher in fer ter tu’n you back in a mont’, you’d a slep’ all th’oo de winter. I had des plum’ fergot ’bout dat, so I reckon I’ll hafter try sumpin’ diff’ent. I ’spec’ I better tu’n you ter a fox. En bein’ ez a fox is a good runner, you oughter git ter de Norf in less time dan a b’ar, so I’ll fix dis yer goopher so you’ll tu’n back ter a nigger en des th’ee weeks, en you’ll be able ter enjoy yo’ freedom a week sooner.’ + 

“So Aun’ Peggy tu’nt Tobe ter a fox, en he sta’ted down de road in great has’e, en made mo’d’n ten miles, w’en he ’mence’ ter feel kinder hongry. So w’en he come ter a hen-house he tuk a hen en eat it, en lay down in de woods ter git his night’s res’. In de mawnin’, wen he woke up, he ’lowed he mought ’swell hab ernudder chick’n fer breakfus’, so he tuk a fat pullet en eat dat. + 

“Now, Tobe had be’n monst’s fon’ er chick’n befo’ he wuz tu’nt ter a fox, but he hadn’ nebber had ez much ez he could eat befo’. En bein’ ez dere wuz so many chick’ns in dis naberhood, en dey mought be ska’se whar he wuz gwine, he ’lowed he better stay ’roun’ dere ’tel he got kinder fat, so he could stan’ bein’ hongry a day er so ef he sh’d fin’ slim pickings fu’ther ’long. So he dug hisse’f a nice hole under a tree in de woods, en des stayed dere en eat chick’n fer a couple er weeks er so. He wuz so comf’table, eatin’ w’at he laked, en restin’ wen he wa’n’t eatin’, he des kinder los’ track er de time, ’tel befo’ he notice’ it his th’ee weeks wuz mos’ up. + 

“But bimeby de people w’at own dese yer chick’ns ’mence’ ter miss ’em, en dey ’lowed dey wuz a fox som’ers roun’. So dey got out dey houn’s en dey hawns en dey hosses, en sta’ted off fer a fox-hunt. En sho’ nuff de houn’s got de scent, en wuz on po’ Tobe’s track in a’ hour er so. + 

“W’en Tobe heared ’em comin’ he wuz mos’ skeered ter def, en he ’mence’ ter run ez ha’d ez he could, en bein’ ez de houn’s wuz on de norf side, he run to’ds de souf, en soon foun’ hisse’f back in de woods right whar he wuz bawn en raise’. He jumped a crick en doubled en twisted, en done ev’ything he could fer ter th’ow de houn’s off’n de scent but ’t wa’n’t no use, fer dey des kep’ gittin’ closeter, en closeter, en closeter. + 

“Ez soon ez Tobe got back to’ds home en ’skivered whar he wuz, he sta’ted fer ole Aun’ Peggy’s cabin fer te git her ter he’p ’im, en des ez he got ter her do’, lo en behol’! he tu’nt back ter a nigger ag’in, fer de th’ee weeks wuz up des ter a minute. He knock’ at de do’, en hollered:⁠— + 

“ ‘Lemme in, Aun’ Peggy, lemme in! De dawgs is atter me.’ + 

“Aun’ Peggy open’ de do’. + 

“ ‘Fer de Lawd sake! nigger, whar is you come fum dis time?’ sez she. ‘I ’lowed you wuz done got ter de Norf, en free long ago. W’at’s de matter wid you now?’ + 

“So Tobe up’n’ tol’ her ’bout how he had been stop’ by dem chick’ns, en how ha’d it wuz ter git ’way fum ’em. En w’iles he wuz talkin’ ter Aun’ Peggy dey heared de dawgs comin’ closeter, en closeter, en closeter. + 

“ ‘Tu’n me ter sump’n e’se, Aun’ Peggy,’ sez Tobe, ‘fer dat fox scent runs right up ter de do’, en dey’ll be ’bleedzd ter come in, en dey’ll fin’ me en kyar me back home, en lamb me, en mos’ lakly sell me ’way. Tu’n me ter sump’n, quick, I doan keer w’at, fer I doan want dem dawgs ner dem w’ite folks ter ketch me.’ + 

“Aun’ Peggy look’ ’roun’ de cabin, en sez she, takin’ down a go’d fum de chimbly:⁠— + 

“ ‘I ain’ got no goopher made up ter-day, Tobe, but dis yer bull-frog mixtry. I’ll tu’n you ter a bull-frog, en I’ll put in ernuff er dis yuther mixtry fer ter take de goopher off in a day er so, en meanw’iles you kin hop down yander ter dat ma’sh en stay, en w’en de dawgs is all gone en you tu’ns back, you kin come ter me en I’ll tu’n you ter a sparrer er sump’n’ w’at kin fly swif’, en den maybe you’ll be able ter git ’way en be free widout all dis yer foolishness you’s be’n goin’ th’oo.’ + 

“By dis time de dawgs wuz scratchin’ at de do’ en howlin’, en Aun’ Peggy en Tobe could heah de hawns er de hunters blowin close behin’. All dis yer racket made Aun’ Peggy sorter narvous, en wen she went ter po’ dis yuther mixtry in fer ter lif’ de bull-frog goopher off’n Tobe in a day er so, her han’ shuck so she spilt it ober de side er de yuther go’d en didn’ notice dat it hadn’ gone in. En Tobe wuz so busy lis’nin’ en watchin’ de do’, dat he didn’ notice nuther, en so w’en Aun’ Peggy put de goopher on Tobe en tu’nt ’im inter a bull-frog, dey wa’n’t none er dis yuther mixtry in it w’atsomeber. + 

“Tobe le’p’ out’n a crack ’twix’ de logs, en Aun’ Peggy open’ de do’, en de dawgs run ’roun’, en de w’ite folks come en inqui’ed, en w’en dey seed Aun’ Peggy’s roots en go’ds en snake-skins en yuther cunjuh-fixin’s, en a big black cat wid yaller eyes, settin’ on de h’a’th, dey ’lowed dey wuz wastin’ dey time, so dey des cusst a little en run ’long back home widout de fox dey had come atter. + 

“De nex’ day Aun’ Peggy stayed roun’ home all day, makin’ a mixtry fer ter tu’n Tobe ter a sparrer, en ’spectin’ ’im eve’y minute fer ter come in. But he nebber come. En bein’ ez he didn’ ’pear no mo’, Aun’ Peggy ’lowed he’d got ti’ed er dis yer animal bizness en w’en he had tu’nt back fum de bull-frog had runned ’way on his own ’sponsibility, lak she ’vised ’im at fus’. So Aun’ Peggy went on ’bout her own bizness en didn’ paid no mo’ tention ter Tobe. + 

“Ez fer po’ Tobe, he had hop’ off down ter dat ma’sh en had jump’ in de water, en had waited fer hisse’f ter tu’n back. But w’en he didn’ tu’n back de fus’ day, he ’lowed Aun’ Peggy had put in too much er de mixtry, en bein ’ez de ma’sh wuz full er minners en snails en crawfish en yuther things w’at bull-frogs laks ter eat, he ’lowed he mought ’s well be comf’table en enjoy hisse’f ’tel his bull-frog time wuz up. + 

“But bimeby, wen a mont’ roll’ by, en two mont’s, en th’ee mont’s, en a yeah, Tobe kinder ’lowed dey wuz sump’n wrong ’bout dat goopher, en so he ’mence’ ter go up on de dry lan’ en look fer Aun’ Peggy. En one day w’en she came ’long by de ma’sh, he got in front er her, en croak’ en croak’; but Aun’ Peggy wuz studyin’ ’bout sump’n e’se; en ’sides, she ’lowed Tobe wuz done gone ’way en got free long, long befo’, so she didn’ pay no ’tention ter de big bull-frog she met in de path, ’cep’n ter push him out’n de road wid her stick. + 

“So Tobe went back ter his ma’sh, en dere he’s be’n eber sence. It’s be’n fifty yeahs er mo’, en Tobe mus’ be ’bout ten yeahs older ’n I is. But he ain’ nebber got ti’ed er wantin’ ter be tu’nt back ter hisse’f, er ter sump’n w’at could run erway ter de Norf. Co’se ef he had waited lak de res’ un us he’d a be’n free long ago; but he didn’ know dat, en he doan know it yet. En eve’y night, w’en de frogs sta’ts up, dem w’at knows ’bout Tobe kin reco’nize his voice en heah ’im callin’, callin’, callin’ ole Aun’ Peggy fer ter come en tu’n ’im back, des ez ef Aun’ Peggy hadn’ be’n restin’ in Aberham’s bosom fer fo’ty yeahs er mo’. Oncet in a w’ile I notices dat Tobe doan say nuffin fer a night er so, en so I ’lows he’s gittin’ ole en po’ly, en trouble’ wid hoa’seness er rheumatiz er sump’n er ’nuther, fum bein’ in de water so long. I doan ’spec’ he’s gwine to be dere many mo’ yeahs; but w’iles he is dere, it ’pears ter me he oughter be ’lowed ter lib out de res’ er his days in peace. + 

“Dat’s de reason w’y,” the old man concluded, “I doan lak ter see nobody eat’n frogs’ laigs out’n dat ma’sh. Ouch!” he added suddenly, putting his hand to the pit of his stomach, “Ouch!” + 

“What’s the matter, Uncle Julius?” my wife inquired with solicitude. + 

“Oh, nuffin, ma’m, nuffin wuf noticin’⁠—des a little tech er mis’ry in my innards. I s’pose talkin’ ’bout po’ old Tobe, in dat col’, wet ma’sh, wid nobody ter ’sociate wid but frogs en crawfish en water-moccasins en sich, en wid nuffin fittin’ ter eat, is des sorter upsot me mo’ er less. If you is anyways int’rusted in a ole nigger’s feelin’s, I ruther ’spec’ a drap er dem bitters out’n dat little flat jimmyjohn er yo’n git me shet er dis mis’ry quicker’n anything e’se I knows.” + 