Diddie, Dumps and Tot Part 10

"Ebenin' ter yer, marster," said the old man, sc.r.a.ping his foot and bowing his head.

"How are you, Uncle Bob?" responded his master.

"I'm jes po'ly, thank G.o.d," replied Uncle Bob, in the answer invariably given by Southern slaves to the query "How are you?" No matter if they were fat as seals, and had never had a day's sickness in their lives, the answer was always the same--"I'm po'ly, thank G.o.d."

"Well, Uncle Bob, what is it now?" asked Major Waldron. "The little negroes been bothering your splits again?"

"Dey's all de time at dat, marster, an' dey gwine git hu't, mun, ef dey fool long o' me; but den dat ain't wat I come fur dis time. I come fur ter hab er talk wid yer, sar, ef yer kin spar de ole n.i.g.g.e.r de time."

"There's plenty of time, Uncle Bob; take a seat, then, if we are to have a talk;" and Major Waldron lit his cigar, and leaned back, while Uncle Bob seated himself on a low chair, and said:

"Marster, I come ter ax yer wat'll yer take fur dat little boy yer bought fum de specerlaters?"

"Ann's little boy?" asked his master; "why, I would not sell him at all.

I only bought him because his mother was dying of exposure and fatigue, and I wanted to relieve her mind of anxiety on his account. I would certainly never sell her child away from her."

"Yes, sar, dat's so," replied the old man; "but den my min', hit's made up. I've laid me up er little money fum time ter time, wen I'd be er doct'in' uv hosses an' mules an' men'in' cheers, an' all sich ez dat; de folks dey pays me lib'ul; an', let erlone dat, I'm done mighty well wid my taters an' goobers, er sellin' uv 'em ter de steamboat han's, wat takes 'em ter de town, an' 'sposes uv 'em. So I'm got er right smart chance uv money laid up, sar; an' now I wants ter buy me er n.i.g.g.e.r, same ez wite folks, fur ter wait on me an' bresh my coat an' drive my kerridge; an' I 'lowed ef yer'd sell de little wite n.i.g.g.e.r, I'd buy 'im," and Uncle Bob chuckled and laughed.

"Why, Bob, I believe you are crazy," said his master, "or drunk."

"I ain't neder one, marster; but den I'm er jokin' too much, mo'n de 'lenity uv de cazhun inquires, an' now I'll splain de facks, sar."

And Uncle Bob related Ann's story to his master, and wound up by saying:

"An' now, marster, my min', hit's made up. I wants ter buy de little chap, an' give 'im ter his mammy, de one wat G.o.d give 'im to. Hit'll go mighty hard wid me ter part fum all dat money, caze I ben years pun top er years er layin' uv it up, an' hit's er mighty c.u.mfut ter me er countin' an' er jinglin' uv it; but hit ain't doin' n.o.body no good er buried in de groun'; an' I don't special need it myse'f, caze you gives me my cloes, an' my shoes, an' my eatin's, an' my backer, an' my wisky, an' I ain't got no cazhun fur ter spen' it; an', let erlone dat, I can't stay hyear fureber, er countin' an' er jinglin' dat money, caze wen de angel soun' dat horn, de ole n.i.g.g.e.r he's got ter go; he's boun' fur ter be dar! de money can't hol' 'im! De Lord, he ain't gwine ter say, 'Scuze dat n.i.g.g.e.r, caze he got money piled up; lef 'im erlone, fur ter count dat gol' an' silver.' No, sar! But, marster, maybe in de jedgemun' day, wen Ole Bob is er stan'in' fo' de Lord wid his knees er trim'lin', an'

de angel fotches out dat book er hisn, an' de Lord tell 'im fur ter read wat he writ gins 'im, an' de angel he 'gin ter read how de ole n.i.g.g.e.r drunk too much wisky, how he stoled watermillions in de night, how he cussed, how he axed too much fur doct'in' uv hosses, an' wen he wuz men'in' cheers, how he wouldn't men' 'em strong, so's he'd git ter men'

'em ergin some time; an' den, wen he read all dat an' shet de book, maybe de Lord he'll say, 'Well, he's er pow'ful sinful n.i.g.g.e.r, but den he tuck his money, he did, an' buy'd de little baby fur ter give 'im ter his mammy, an' I sha'n't be too hard on 'im."

"Maybe he'll say dat, an' den ergin maybe he won't. Maybe he'll punish de ole n.i.g.g.e.r ter de full stent uv his 'greshuns; an' den, ergin, maybe he'll let him off light; but dat ain't neder hyear nur dar. What'll yer take fur de baby, caze my min' hit's made up?"

"And mine is too, Uncle Bob," said his master, rising, and grasping in his the big black hand. "Mine is too. I will give Ann her freedom and her baby, and the same amount of money that you give her; that will take her to her husband's relatives, and she can die happy, knowing that her baby will be taken care of."

The next day Uncle Bob dug up his money, and the bag was found to contain three hundred dollars.

His master put with it a check for the same amount, and sent him into the laundry to tell Ann of her good fortune.

The poor woman was overcome with happiness and grat.i.tude, and, throwing her arms around Uncle Bob, she sobbed and cried on his shoulder.

She wrote at once to her husband's relatives, and a few weeks after Major Waldron took her to New Orleans, had the requisite papers drawn up for her freedom, and accompanied her on board of a vessel bound for New York; and then, paying her pa.s.sage himself, so that she might keep her money for future emergencies, he bade adieu to the only slaves he ever bought.

CHAPTER IX.

AUNT EDY'S STORY.

Aunt Edy was the princ.i.p.al laundress, and a great favorite she was with the little girls. She was never too busy to do up a doll's frock or ap.r.o.n, and was always glad when she could amuse and entertain them. One evening Dumps and Tot stole off from Mammy, and ran as fast as they could clip it to the laundry, with a whole armful of their dollies'

clothes, to get Aunt Edy to let them "iun des er 'ittle," as Tot said.

"Lemme see wat yer got," said Aunt Edy; and they spread out on the table garments of worsted and silk and muslin and lace and tarlatan and calico and homespun, just whatever their little hands had been able to gather up.

"Lor', chil'en, ef yer washes deze fine close yer'll ruint 'em," said Aunt Edy, examining the bundles laid out; "de suds'll tuck all de color out'n 'em; s'posin' yer jes press 'em out on de little stool ober dar wid er nice cole iun."

"Yes, that's the very thing," said Dumps; and Aunt Edy folded some towels, and laid them on the little stools, and gave each of the children a cold iron. And, kneeling down, so as to get at their work conveniently, the little girls were soon busy smoothing and pressing the things they had brought.

"Aunt Edy," said Dumps, presently, "could'n yer tell us 'bout Po' Nancy Jane O?"

"Dar now!" exclaimed Aunt Edy; "dem chil'en nuber is tierd er hyearn'

dat tale; pyears like dey like hit mo' an' mo' eb'y time dey hyears. .h.i.t;" and she laughed slyly, for she was the only one on the plantation who knew about "Po' Nancy Jane O," and she was pleased because it was such a favorite story with the children.

"Once pun er time," she began, "dar wuz er bird name' Nancy Jane O, an'

she wuz guv up ter be de swif'es'-fly'n thing dar wuz in de a'r. Well, at dat time de king uv all de fishes an' birds, an' all de little beas'es, like snakes an' frogs an' wums an' tarrypins an' bugs, an' all sich ez dat, he wur er mole dat year! an' he wuz blin' in bof 'is eyes, jes same like any udder mole; an', somehow, he had hyearn some way dat dar wuz er little bit er stone name' de gol'-stone, way off fum dar, in er muddy crick, an' ef'n he could git dat stone, an' hol' it in his mouf, he could see same ez anybody.

"Den he 'gun ter steddy how wuz he fur ter git dat stone.

"He stedded an' _he stedded_, an' pyeard like de mo' he stedded de mo'

he couldn' fix no way fur ter git it. He knowed he wuz blin', an' he knowed he trab'l so slow dat he 'lowed 'twould be years pun top er years befo' he'd git ter de crick, an' so he made up in 'is min' dat he'd let somebody git it fur 'im. Den, bein' ez he wuz de king, an' could grant any kin' er wush, he sont all roun' thu de kentry eb'ywhar, an' 'lowed dat any bird or fish, or any kin' er little beas' dat 'oud fotch 'im dat stone, he'd grant 'em de deares' wush er dey hearts.

"Well, mun, in er few days de whole yearth wuz er movin'; eb'ything dar wuz in de lan' wuz er gwine.

"Some wuz er hoppin' an' some wuz er crawlin' an' some wuz er flyin', jes 'cord'n to dey natur'; de birds dey 'lowed ter git dar fus', on 'count er fly'n so fas'; but den de little stone wuz in de water, an'

dey'd hatter wait till de crick run down, so 'twuz jes 'bout broad ez 'twuz long.

"Well, wile dey wuz all er gwine, an' de birds wuz in de lead, one day dey hyeard sump'n gwine f-l-u-shsh--f-l-u-shsh--an' sump'n streaked by like lightnin', and dey look way erhead, dey did, an' dey seed Nancy Jane O. Den dey hearts 'gun ter sink, an' dey gin right up, caze dey knowed she'd outfly eb'ything on de road. An' by'mby de crow, wat wuz allers er cunnin' bird, sez,' I tell yer wat we'll do; we'll all gin er feas',' sezee, 'an' git Nancy Jane O ter come, an' den we'll all club togedder an' tie her, sezee.

"Dat took dey fancy, an' dey sont de lark on erhead fur ter cotch up wid Nancy Jane O, an' ter ax 'er ter de feas'. Well, mun, de lark he nearly kill hese'f er flyin'. He flew an' he flew an' he flew, but pyear'd like de fas'er he went de furder erhead wuz Nancy Jane O.

"But Nancy Jane O, bein' so fur er start uv all de res', an' not er dreamin' 'bout no kin' er develment, she 'lowed she'd stop an' take er nap, an' so de lark he come up wid 'er, wile she wuz er set'n on er sweet-gum lim', wid 'er head un'er 'er wing. Den de lark spoke up, an', sezee, 'Sis Nancy Jane O,' sezee, 'we birds is gwinter gin er big feas', caze we'll be sho' ter win de race any how, an' bein' ez we've flew'd so long an' so fur, wy we're gwine ter stop an' res' er spell, an' gin er feas'. An' Brer Crow he 'lowed 'twouldn' be no feas' 'tall les'n you could be dar; so dey sont me on ter tell yer to hol' up tell dey come: dey's done got seeds an' bugs an' wums, an' Brer Crow he's gwine ter furnish de corn.'

"Nancy Jane O she 'lowed ter herse'f she could soon git erhead uv 'em ergin, so she 'greed ter wait; an' by'mby hyear dey come er flyin'. An'

de nex' day dey gin de feas'; an' wile Nancy Jane O wuz er eatin' an' er stuffin' herse'f wid wums an' seeds, an' one thing er nudder, de blue jay he slope up behin' 'er, an' tied 'er fas' ter er little bush. An'

dey all laft an' flopped dey wings; an' sez dey, 'Good-bye ter yer, Sis Nancy Jane O. I hope yer'll enjoy yerse'f,' sez dey; an' den dey riz up an' stretched out dey wings, an' away dey flewed.

"Wen Po' Nancy Jane O seed de trick wat dey played her, she couldn'

hardly stan' still, she wuz so mad; an' she pulled an' she jerked an'

she stretched ter git er loose, but de string wuz so strong, an' de bush wuz so fum, she wuz jes er was'en 'er strengt'. An' den she sot down, an' she 'gun ter cry ter herse'f, an' ter sing,

"'Please on-tie, please on-tie Po' Nancy Jane O!

Please on-tie, please on-tie Po' Nancy Jane O!'

"An' atter er wile hyear come de ole bullfrog Pigunawaya. He sez ter hisse'f, sezee, 'Wat's dat I hyear?' Den he lis'en, an' he hyear sump'n gwine,

"'Please on-tie, please on-tie Po' Nancy Jane O!'

an' he went whar he hyeard de soun', an' dar wuz de po' bird layin' down all tied ter de bush.