{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_70436/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_70436","id":"gutenberg_70436","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/70436","summary":null,"tags":["African Americans -- Fiction","Category: American Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Devil -- Fiction","Short stories, American"],"text":"Transcriber\u2019s Notes\n\nObvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations\nin hyphenation have been standardised but all other spelling and\npunctuation remains unchanged.\n\nItalics are represented thus _italic_.\n\nDuplication of each chapter heading on a full page before each chapter\nhas been removed.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: p. 84\n\u201cHE HEAR ALL DE SECRETS ER DER CREEPIN\u2019 THINGS\u201d]\n\n\n\n\n _DEVIL_\n TALES\n\n BY\n VIRGINIA FRAZER BOYLE\n\n ILLUSTRATED BY\n A. B. FROST\n\n [Illustration]\n\n NEW YORK AND LONDON\n HARPER & BROTHERS\n PUBLISHERS _MCM_\n\n\n Copyright, 1900, by HARPER & BROTHERS:\n\n _All rights reserved._\n\n\n\n\n TO\n\n ELLEN\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS\n\n PAGE\n OLD CINDER CAT 1\n\n \u201cA KINGDOM FOR MICAJAH\u201d 23\n\n THE DEVIL\u2019S LITTLE FLY 53\n\n ASMODEUS IN THE QUARTERS 77\n\n THE TAMING OF JEZRUL 91\n\n DARK ER DE MOON 105\n\n THE OTHER MAUMER 133\n\n STOLEN FIRE 157\n\n THE BLACK CAT 167\n\n \u2019LIZA 193\n\n\n\n\n ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n \u201cHE HEAR ALL DE SECRETS ER DER CREEPIN\u2019 THINGS\u201d _Frontispiece_\n _Facing p._\n \u201c\u2018\u2019CASE DE HOODOO AM ER \u2019OMAN\u2019\u201d 8\n\n \u201cSHE FOLLOWED OLD CINDER CAT\u201d 12\n\n \u201cTHE CHARM WAS FOREVER BROKEN, AND THE COMELY HOODOO KNEW IT\u201d 18\n\n \u201c\u2018PERZACKLY LACK OLE MARSE\u2019\u201d 30\n\n \u201c\u2018GO ON AND HAVE A GOOD TIME, MICAJAH\u2019\u201d 36\n\n \u201cHE COLLARED HIS ASTONISHED LITTLE NIGGER\u201d 46\n\n \u201cUNDER THE TREES IN THE WOOD-LOT\u201d 80\n\n \u201cHE DES FOLLER UV \u2019EM EVER NIGHT\u201d 82\n\n \u201cHE HEAR MISSAR JONES\u2019S SAMBO FIVE MILES AWAY\u201d 84\n\n \u201cSHADRACH HE RIZ WID HE OWN COAT-TAILS\u201d 86\n\n \u201cIN DE SHAPE UV ER BIG JACK-RABBIT\u201d 88\n\n \u201c\u2018OH! THE HORROR OF THE THING\u2019\u201d 94\n\n \u201c\u2018BURN! BURN!\u2019\u201d 98\n\n \u201cAN\u2019 CRECY WERE WID \u2019EM\u201d 102\n\n \u201c\u2018I GWINE WARM YO\u2019 BIMEBY\u2019\u201d 114\n\n \u201c\u2018DEY RETCH AN\u2019 STRETCH TODES ONE \u2019NUTHER\u2019\u201d 116\n\n UNC\u2019 JAH AND THE DEVIL SNAKE 118\n\n \u201cUNC\u2019 \u2019JAH AIN\u2019T TALKIN\u2019\u201d 120\n\n \u201cAN\u2019 SPLIT DE WIN\u2019 DES \u2019HINE DE FLY\u201d 122\n\n \u201c\u2018AN\u2019 SHO\u2019 BEAT DE GRASSHOPPER\u2019\u201d 124\n\n \u201c\u2018DEY FLEWED AN\u2019 DEY FLEWED\u2019\u201d 126\n\n \u201cAN\u2019 GIB ONE LAS\u2019 AWFUL HOWL\u201d 128\n\n \u201cHER HEART WAS NOT IN HER WORK\u201d 136\n\n \u201cSHOULD SHE DO IT?\u201d 142\n\n \u201c\u2018FLY, FLY,\u2019 SHE WHISPERED\u201d 148\n\n \u201cSHE CAME ON BAT\u2019S WINGS\u201d 150\n\n \u201c\u2018DE BUTTERFLIES DONE COME BACK\u2019\u201d 152\n\n\n\n\n INTRODUCTION\n\n\nThe sunlight drifting through an avenue of live-oaks sifts dappled gold\nupon the well-known gig that has splashed through miles and miles of\nthe waxy \u201cbuckshot\u201d mud, and now winds slowly up the driveway to stop\nbefore the broad white pillars of the \u201cBig House.\u201d\n\nA dozen little negroes clamor for the lines, and with a friendly nod\nto them the autocrat of autocrats gives his hand to \u201cOle Miss,\u201d who is\nstanding at the open door.\n\n\u201cOle Marse\u201d sits with him in the library below, talking in subdued\ntones and joining now and again in a familiar julep, brought, at\nregular intervals, cold and dewy, by the serving man, C\u00e6sar. And \u201cYoung\nMarse,\u201d with his head upon his hand, every nerve strained to its\ntension, looks idly through the window upon the pulsing life without.\n\nThen a feeble wail sets a pace to hurrying feet and smiling faces as\nthe great bell clangs in the \u201cQuarters\u201d the coming of \u201cLittle Marse.\u201d\n\nBut hardly second in importance to the arrival of the little lord of\nthe domain is the advent of the Queen of the Nursery, who had been\ninstalled from the \u201cQuarters\u201d many days before; for on her capacious\nbosom the baby head of \u201cYoung Marse\u201d had rested, and this, more than\nlikely, is the third generation of her subjects.\n\nThe turbaned head is held high and her sway is supreme, for no one\ncan do quite so well for \u201cBaby\u201d when his enemies attack him; her\ncup and spoon can usually rout the most persistent, and hives and\nwhooping-cough fly ignominiously before her catnip and calimus tea.\n\nThe older children, turned over some time ago to the good graces of the\nsecond nurse, that \u201cMammy\u201d might have time to rest, cling about her\nchair and pull at her skirts, looking with jealous eyes upon the tiny\nbundle that has usurped the warm nest of her arms, and when at last the\nlittle lord consents to sleep, and \u201cMammy\u201d shoos the flies and draws\nthe bar, the young deposed, of flaxen locks and blue-checked apron,\nwith sleepy eyes borrows the nest a while, regardless of the clamor of\nthe others. \u201cMammy, tell a tale!\u201d\n\nAnd \u201cMammy\u201d tells it; day after day she pours out the wealth of her\ninheritance, as her kindred, the \u201cMammies\u201d before her, have done, and\nthese children of children\u2019s children listen with the same unfeigned\ndelight.\n\nBut \u201cBaby\u201d is wearing trousers now\u2014has attained to the dignity of being\ncalled by his own name, and \u201cMammy\u201d is back in her cabin again, that\nMecca of childish desire, between which and the \u201cBig House\u201d a path is\nworn by little pilgrims; for if \u201cMammy\u201d is ailing there are flannels\nand loaf-sugar to be brought, and there are always ash-cakes to be\nbaked, sweet-potatoes, goobers, chestnuts, or apples to be roasted by\n\u201cMammy\u2019s\u201d hearth, and, if nothing else offers, even plain buttermilk\noff her deal table, drunk from her cracked blue china bowl, tastes\nbetter than any other.\n\nThen, after a season, the stone-bruises, stubbed toes, and little cut\nfingers are gone, and \u201cMammy\u2019s\u201d roll of old linen, with its familiar\nturpentine and sugar, are never now disturbed. The bewildering mass of\ncurls that only \u201cMammy\u2019s\u201d hand could comb without a shower of tears,\ntogether with the dainty buttoned pinafores, have faded too, somewhere,\nfor the college days have come and the first love affairs\u2014those\nstrange, all-absorbing passions\u2014and as \u201cMammy\u2019s\u201d lap, with its smooth\nwhite apron and comfortable knees had been the receptacle of all broken\ndolls and toys, so \u201cMammy\u2019s\u201d ear is the haven of youthful broken\nhearts, and the same old stories are tenderly applied for the mending.\n\nBut time ripens, and the roof-tree is shaken of its fruit. First in joy\nand first in sorrow, it is \u201cMammy\u201d who shrouds the form of \u201cOle Miss,\u201d\nand now she looks longingly into the past.\n\nA few short years that seem as days, and \u201cLittle Miss\u201d smoothes the\nfolds of \u201cMammy\u2019s\u201d black silk, \u201csaved against her burying,\u201d and pins,\nthrough blinding tears, a white rose above the still heart, and\n\u201cMammy\u2019s\u201d daughter, fat and gentle, with \u201cMammy\u2019s\u201d own soft, crooning\nvoice, takes up the cradle song.\n\nThey romped together, these two, beneath the self-same oaks\u2014\u201cLittle\nMiss\u201d and \u201cMammy\u2019s\u201d daughter\u2014but \u201cLittle Miss\u201d now wears a cap (she is\n\u201cOle Miss,\u201d too, to some down in the \u201cQuarters\u201d), and the folds of the\nother\u2019s turban are as full of comfortable dignity as the dusky mother\u2019s\nwere.\n\n\u201cLittle Miss,\u201d still sweet and dainty in her dimity, smiles over her\nnetting and slips the beads upon the scarlet threads or sorts her\ncrewels in the shady porch, for at the other end, just out of sight,\nthe old split-bottomed hickory chair resumes its familiar \u201cthump\u201d to\nthe music of a negro voice.\n\nAgain it is \u201cthe dark of the moon,\u201d and Satan is abroad in the\n\u201cQuarters,\u201d and the good hoodoo who must beat the devil at his own game\nis working wonders against him as he \u201csplits the wind.\u201d \u201cOle Cinder\nCat\u201d sits by the hearth nightly, and the \u201cdevil\u2019s little fly\u201d buzzes\naudibly in wondering childish ears.\n\nThe same old stories, ever witching, ever new, to the same old\nchorus\u2014\u201cTell another, Mammy!\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnother chorus calls to answering silence, for she is gone. The swaying\nform, crooning in low rich voice, like some bronze Homer blind to\nletters, a weird primeval lore into the ears of future orators, is\nshut within the feudal past of the old plantation days, for the brown\nbreast that pillowed its brain and beauty is still forever, and that\nSouth too is dead.\n\nThe worn split-bottomed chair is empty, filled with dust and years, for\nit is we who seek to conjure with it now\u2014we who have heard unwitting at\nthat shrine a classic that America may call her own.\n\n\n\n\n OLD CINDER CAT\n\n\nSolon and Juno had quarrelled. Now a quarrel was not an unusual\noccurrence in the Quarters, but Solon and Juno had been exemplars of\nconjugal felicity for nearly eighteen years, and had been held up to\ntheir dusky world as patterns to be zealously copied.\n\nThis unpleasantness, however, had been brewing for a long time; but\nhitherto, if one had lost temper, the other had always prudently\nremembered that they were in the fierce light that beats upon all\nparagons, and wisely refrained from adding to the flame. But at last\nthere was a culmination behind closed doors, and when Solon and Juno\narose at daylight neither had yielded a single point.\n\nThe most mortifying part of the whole proceeding to Solon was the fact\nthat he had just \u201cexperienced religion,\u201d and this disgraceful thing\ncoming close upon the second week was certainly a most painful \u201cfalling\nfrom grace,\u201d and he groaned in spirit lest the news should be noised\nabroad.\n\nJuno, however, had no such qualms of conscience, for, though she\nwent to \u201cmeeting\u201d persistently, her service was of the even, regular\nvariety, and as she was never known to shout, and had never \u201ccome under\nconviction,\u201d \u2019Zorter Blalock, newly come into that fold, took her under\nespecial consideration, and prayed nightly for \u201cdem needer hot, needer\ncole, les\u2019 dey be spit outen de mouf, O Lord!\u201d\n\nJuno raised no question as to the genuineness of Solon\u2019s religion;\nbut she had her own grievance against him; for in her old age Juno\nhad grown jealous; and at last, from much dwelling upon some recent\noccurrences simultaneous with Solon\u2019s profession, Juno had become\nsuspicious.\n\nTwice of late Solon had asked for a pass to the adjoining plantation;\nthe last time she knew he had to swim the creek, for the water was up,\nthere was no one at the ferry that time of night, and he couldn\u2019t have\ntaken a mule without waking John, who was most unobliging in such\nmatters. Then, more positive proof than anything else, Solon\u2019s head was\nvery wet when he came in, along towards day, and he was very surly when\nquestioned about it.\n\n\u201cGittin\u2019 \u2019ligion go mighty hard wid you, Solon,\u201d said Juno. \u201cHit keep\nyou outen you\u2019 bed when hones\u2019 folks is all ersleep. You does lack you\ntryin\u2019 ter lay er ghos\u2019, \u2019steader gittin\u2019 peace.\u201d\n\nJuno, typical of her race, and particularly of her sex, though\npossessing no occult gifts of her own, was very superstitious, and,\ngoaded by her suspicions, resolved to make use of the simple means\nwithin her reach; so, begging some coffee-grounds of Aunt Susan, the\ncook at the Big House, she \u201cturned the three cups of her fortune,\u201d for\nshe felt that something was going wrong.\n\nThe first and second cups were barren of information, they represented\nyouth, and the grounds did not even \u201cwash.\u201d But the third\u2014ah! she knew\nit\u2014Solon was deep in mischief, for this was the way it read:\n\nThat spot represented herself. There was a cross by it; that\nrepresented trouble\u2014no, it did not mean death. That clear space\nrepresented water\u2014the cross pointed that way, towards the north.\nBowen\u2019s plantation was north: that was where Solon went. Across\nthe water was another cross\u2014trouble again. Beyond the cross was an\neagle\u2014that meant luck; but between the cross and the eagle, close to\nthe cross\u2014in fact, an arm of the cross pointed right to it\u2014was a (Juno\nrubbed her eyes and looked again, then she pulled her brass specs,\nwhich she seldom used, down upon her nose and took the cup to the\nwindow)\u2014was a woman!\n\nHer hand trembled a little with indecision, then, forgetful of the\nborrowed cup, she threw it into the grove. So the quarrel had come\nabout without a happy solution of the difficulty, for Solon sullenly\nbut persistently declared his innocence of offence, while Juno as\npersistently put the question.\n\nNext morning saw the beginning of a series of omens and disasters,\nshowing that some dark power was at work, for, without cause or\nwarning, Juno\u2019s skillet cracked right in two on the fire before the\nhoe-cake was done; Solon\u2019s rooster stood in the doorway and crowed\nthree times before he could shoo him away; and a chimney-swallow got\ninto the cabin and beat its wings bloody against the wall in its\nefforts to get out.\n\nA very thoughtful, silent pair joined the hands in the field that\nmorning, for everything seemed to be going wrong. Juno got a \u201cmiz\u2019ry\nin her side\u201d long before noon, and just as the most unsatisfactory day\nthat they had ever spent together was closing, a \u201ccotton-mouth\u201d bit\nSolon on the heel. Juno ran to kill a chicken to apply to the wound\nto draw out the poison, for she had more faith in the warm chicken\nthan in Ole Marse\u2019s whiskey, which was plentifully supplied. She did\nnot want to see Solon die with, as she said, \u201ca lie in de mouf\u201d; and,\nhoping to avert evil, she killed the very rooster that had crowed so\ninauspiciously early in the morning, thus opening upon her head the\nvials of Solon\u2019s wrath when he had recovered from his fright.\n\n\u201cJu! you done los\u2019 you\u2019 head-piece sho\u2019, you fool! Hain\u2019t I done gib up\nall I got ter git dat dominicker, an\u2019 hain\u2019t got but one, an\u2019 here you\ngo an\u2019 split him up fur er snake-bite lack any common chick\u2019n! I lay\nI larn you, ole \u2019oman, if I hatter frail you ever\u2019 day \u2019twix\u2019 now an\u2019\nChris\u2019mus!\u201d\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 I lay, if you does, I\u2019ll up an\u2019 tell \u2019em in de meetin\u2019 how you\ndone git dat rooster, Solon!\u201d\n\nThen, to the amazement of both, the story of the quarrel got out; the\nfaintest whisper of the midnight was exploited, as it were, upon the\nhouse-tops; wagging heads were turned and loosened tongues clattered;\nand at night Juno quilted in silence, and Solon sought his religious\ncounsellors without comfort.\n\nSo the days passed, and Juno could see that Solon was perfectly\nmiserable; but he kept his own counsel, and, despite his vehement\nprotestations, the visits over the creek continued.\n\nThen Solon fell ill of fever and ague. The overseer said that the\ntrouble was malarial, caused by the weekly trips across the bottom,\nand refused to grant further passes; but it was to Parson Blalock that\nSolon poured out the burden of his woes.\n\n\u201cI done come ter gib up dat \u2019ligion. Parson Blalock\u201d; and Solon yawned\nand shivered in the sunshine, for his chill-time was coming on.\n\u201cNebber hab no trouble ner nuffin ail me twel I git hit, an\u2019 here I\ngwine chillin\u2019 ever\u2019 udder day lack er po\u2019 mizerbul lam\u2019 dat done been\ndrapped too soon. Hit done go too hard wid me, Parson Blalock, an\u2019 I\ncome ter gib hit up!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201c\u2018\u2019CASE DE HOODOO AM \u2019ER \u2019OMAN\u2019\u201d]\n\nThe \u2019zorter and \u2019spounder scratched his head thoughtfully, then laid a\nbar on the anvil\u2014for Parson Blalock was a blacksmith on weekdays.\n\n\u201cTer my min\u2019, Brer Solon, you cain\u2019t gib hit up. Once in de fol\u2019, you\nb\u2019long ter de fol\u2019; you cain\u2019t git out; an\u2019 er-doin\u2019 lack you is now,\nis how ever\u2019 fol\u2019 done git er black sheep in hit!\u201d\n\n\u201cHit hain\u2019t struck in deep yit, an\u2019 I hain\u2019t got no use fur dat\n\u2019ligion, an\u2019 I want ter let hit go!\u201d moaned Solon.\n\nParson Blalock had let the iron cool, and, drawing close to Solon, he\nwhispered: \u201cHit hain\u2019t no \u2019ligion dat wukin\u2019 on you, Brer Solon; you\u2019s\nright; you hain\u2019t neber got ernough fur dat! \u2019Cordin\u2019 ter de signs er\nde times, ter my min\u2019, hit er hoodoo, an\u2019 you better look out fur her,\n\u2019case de hoodoo am er \u2019oman!\u201d\n\nSolon smiled in a sickly, hopeless way, for the ague was upon him, and\nturned away in the direction of his cabin. But Juno was not there.\nCrouching low before the witch-fire of Maum Ysbel, there had been\npoured into her ears enough of misery to last through a whole cycle,\nthe price of barter having been a coveted china cup.\n\nThere was no light in the cabin, save from the blue and green flames\nthat were now dying out, lighting fitfully the features of the\ntoothless, weazened negress who knelt before it, for the only opening\nwas barred by a roughhewn hickory log. On the red coals snake fat and\nlizard skin, mixed with some strange, ill-odored stuff, were merrily\nbubbling; and the oracle continued:\n\n\u201c\u2018Tain\u2019t no use ter try dat cat; hain\u2019t nuffin but Ole Cinder Cat;\nyou\u2019ll fin\u2019 her bloody bones hid out somers. Hain\u2019t nuffin but er\nhoodoo dat er ridin\u2019 dat cat, des ter \u2019do\u2019 you wid Solon; but if yo\u2019\nwants ter mek sho\u2019, jes ketch her when she dozin\u2019 in de ashes an\u2019\nput her in de tar bar\u2019l dar by you\u2019 do\u2019 wid de head druv in, an\u2019 set\nfire ter hit. If hit Ole Cinder, you\u2019ll fin\u2019 her, \u2019dout eben her tail\nscotched, er-grinnin\u2019 in de hot ashes when de fire done die out. If\ndat happin, den you gotter ketch her ergin\u2014an\u2019 she\u2019s gwinter gib you\ner putty hard run\u2014an\u2019 \u2019n\u2019int her hin\u2019 de years wid dis grease; den\nfoller uv her, an\u2019 tek dis bone wid you\u2014whatebber you does, don\u2019 lose\ndis. If she cross de creek, she gwinter cross by de dry bed, \u2019case she\nhain\u2019t gwinter wet her foots lessen she kin hope hit; an\u2019 she gotter\ngo mighty fur way up fur ter git ober dry, so you mought tek sumpen\nter eat wid you. Don\u2019 matter how tired you gits, keep er-foll\u2019in\u2019 de\ncat, an\u2019 es soon es yo\u2019 git on t\u2019uther side, mek er cross an\u2019 spit in\nhit, den rub you\u2019 eyes wid dis bone, an\u2019 tu\u2019n roun\u2019 free times. Dat\n\u2019ll mek de hoodoo gib up de Cinder Cat\u2019s skin, an\u2019 right dar es you\ntu\u2019n you\u2019ll see de pusson dat been mekin\u2019 all dis here trouble \u2019twix\u2019\nyou an\u2019 Solon. You\u2019ll know her when yo\u2019 sees her, but don\u2019 say nuffin\nter her but \u2019Howdy?\u2019 an\u2019 don\u2019 eat nuffin she gib yo\u2019, \u2019case she mout\n\u2019fix\u2019 yo\u2019 lack she do Solon, an\u2019 yo\u2019 cain\u2019t do nuffin yit. Yo\u2019 gotter\nwait twel de spring, when de sap \u2019ll git up. Don\u2019 yo\u2019 quoil wid Solon\n\u2019twix\u2019 now an\u2019 den; Solon\u2019s er good man; he wouldn\u2019 be no kin ter me\nif he wa\u2019n\u2019t!\u2014fur he\u2019s des hoodooed an\u2019 hain\u2019t \u2019sponsible. But soon\u2019s\nde sap\u2019s riz you git yo\u2019 er good big piece er green grape-vine an\u2019 lay\nfur de \u2019oman, an\u2019 hit her wid hit unbeknownst; \u2019case if she know yo\u2019\narter her, she\u2019ll go er mighty long piece outen her way ter git shet er\nyo\u2019, fur de grape-vine sho\u2019 brek de charm\u2014hain\u2019t no hoodoo kin mek er\nstan\u2019 \u2019gin yo\u2019 if you hit \u2019em wid er grape-vine when de sap\u2019s up; but\nbe mighty sho\u2019 she\u2019s stan\u2019in\u2019 on her own groun\u2019 when yo\u2019 hits her. If\nyo\u2019 does what I tells you, gal, dat Solon \u2019ll come back ter yo\u2019 in er\nherry, des es meek an\u2019 peaceable es er lam\u2019.\u201d\n\nBe it far from the chronicler of the Scheherazade of the nursery to\nnarrate the marital infelicities of Solon and Juno for the space of\nnearly a year, but Mammy solemnly declares that the Cinder Cat bore the\ntest of the fiery tar, and sat calmly grinning in the ashes when the\nflame had died away; and Juno, remembering the admonition, anointed\nthe ears of the cat with Maum Ysbel\u2019s ointment, pleaded illness to\nthe overseer, and, putting the wonderful bone that was to give her\nsuperhuman sight into her basket, together with a hoe-cake, she\nfollowed Old Cinder Cat.\n\nThe cat progressed by many devious ways, giving many an unusual twinge\nto the rheumatic limbs, for often Juno had to go on hands and knees,\nscratching and tearing her face as she heard most unholy conversations\nbetween the cat and the cold-blooded things that creep and thrive in\ndarkness.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cSHE FOLLOWED OLD CINDER CAT\u201d]\n\nBut at last the dry bed of the creek was crossed, and, doing as Maum\nYsbel had bidden, Juno met face to face the comeliest of yellow\ngirls coming from milking, with her pail upon her head.\n\n\u201cHowdy?\u201d said Juno.\n\n\u201cHowdy?\u201d rejoined the girl, smiling, as she offered Juno a tin cup of\nthe milk.\n\nThe temptation was sore, for the rough hoe-cake, eaten in haste without\nwater, had parched her throat; but, remembering the warning, Juno\nswallowed hard.\n\n\u201cMuch obleeged, lady, but I hain\u2019t got time\u201d; and, breathless and\nbleeding from her scratches, Juno hurried back to report to Maum Ysbel.\n\nBut the depth of winter was upon the land; it would be many a day\nbefore vegetation would wake; and Juno, with consuming patience, bore\nthe vagaries of Solon until the leaves were born. Twice, in despair,\nJuno had tapped the grape-vine, and twice the sap had failed to flow,\nbut the last straw was broken in this wise:\n\nThere was to be a break-down in the Quarters, to celebrate the breaking\nof some new ground on the river-side, that had been deadened some two\nyears before, and, in accordance with Ole Marse\u2019s custom, the laborers\nwere permitted to invite the negroes upon the adjoining plantation.\nIt was to be a great event, and Juno was preparing for the same with\ngreat interest, for even flesh and age could not bare as neat a pair of\nheels as hers for certain intricate shuffles, when, all of a sudden,\nSolon declared his intention of not attending. Such a thing had not\nbeen known to happen in the whole course of Solon\u2019s existence. For two\ndays before the break-down he claimed that he was sick, and took all\nof Juno\u2019s nauseous concoctions without a murmur. Then he besought Juno\nnot to go to the dance. It was devil trickery, he said, and it was\nvery hard on him, as he was trying to keep his religion that he had\ngotten so painfully, and the devil would be sure to follow her home.\nHe proposed that Juno should remain quietly in the cabin as usual on\nthe night of the break-down, as an example to the weaker \u201cprofessors,\u201d\nwhile he thought it might do him good to pay a dutiful visit to his old\n\u201cdaddy\u201d across the river\u2014for Old Marse owned on both sides.\n\nBut though Juno physicked her spouse faithfully, she rebelled against\nsuch imposition.\n\n\u201cUm! Ober de ribber you gwine? I lay you\u2019 daddy hain\u2019t gwine lay eyes\non yo\u2019 fur dis day two weeks. Gittin\u2019 mighty anxious \u2019bout you\u2019 daddy\nall uv er suddent! I\u2019se gwine ter de bre\u2019k-down. I hain\u2019t pestered wid\n_you_\u2019 \u2019ligion. Hain\u2019t nuffin de matter wid Juno\u2019s head ner her heels,\nsho\u2019 mun!\u201d\n\nBut Juno\u2019s heart was not as light as she made it appear, for she had\nfretted through a whole winter and a late spring, and after a restless\nnight she again invoked the aid of Maum Ysbel.\n\n\u201cI hain\u2019t got nuffin ter pay yo\u2019 wid, Maumer, but I\u2019se dat miserbul I\nhatter come,\u201d said Juno with a sigh.\n\nThe hag ceased stirring the contents of the little pot, and setting it\noff on the hearth to cool, she drew her wrinkled face into many more\nwrinkles, and took an inventory of Juno from head to foot.\n\n\u201cYas, yo\u2019 is, honey\u2014yas, yo\u2019 is!\u201d and as she grinned, her solitary\ntooth was visible in her glee. \u201cDe coat yo\u2019 got on am powerful ole an\u2019\nfady, an\u2019 dat ap\u2019un hain\u2019t no \u2019count; yo\u2019 gotter wash hit mighty easy\nfur ter w\u2019ar hit one mo\u2019 time; but yo\u2019 got you\u2019 moon year-bobs!\u201d\n\nJuno winced, for those big brass ear-rings were the pride of her heart;\ntwice her lobes had been pulled through with the weight of them, but\nthere was always room for another piercing.\n\nThe old woman leered and nodded. \u201cYo\u2019 got you\u2019 moon year-bobs, an\u2019 my\nBecky\u2019s Sairey been cryin\u2019 uv her eyes out fur \u2019em ebber sence she seed\n\u2019em!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Maumer\u2014\u201d expostulated Juno.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019 yo\u2019 \u2019Maumer\u2019 me!\u201d said the old woman, crossly. \u201cWhat you come\nhere ter me fur if hit hain\u2019t ter fetch dem bobs ter Sairey? Hain\u2019t I\nseed yo\u2019 in de coals, \u2019way \u2019cross de fiel\u2019, \u2019fore yo\u2019 lef\u2019 de cabin,\nmek up you\u2019 min\u2019 ter fotch dem year-bobs ter Sairey fur what I gwine\ntole yo\u2019? What I tells yo\u2019 worf er heap ter yo\u2019, but hit nuffin ter me.\nSolon hain\u2019t my ole man!\u201d\n\nJuno was sick at heart. She had given up the blue-edged china cup to\nsave Solon, but the big moon ear-rings were the wealth of her whole\nlife.\n\nThe hoodoo threw a chip at a great toad that was napping in an old shoe\nbeside the hearth, and, shaking the ashes from her pipe, she refilled\nit from her pocket. \u201cHain\u2019t nuffin ter ole Ysbel, gal\u2014her day done\nober; she don\u2019 claim no man, dead ner libin\u2019! But I done tole yo\u2019 \u2019bout\ndat yaller gal, hain\u2019t I? Yo\u2019 done seed her wid you\u2019 own eyes, hain\u2019t\nyo\u2019? An\u2019 I done tole yo\u2019 how ter git shet uv her. Hain\u2019t my keerin\u2019,\nbut if yo\u2019 don\u2019 wanter know no mo\u2019 \u2019bout her, yo\u2019 des tote dem moon\nyear-bobs back home wid yo\u2019!\u201d\n\nSlowly the rings were removed from Juno\u2019s ears, and the old woman,\nwith a leer, popped them into her capacious pocket before resuming her\nprofessional attitude.\n\n\u201cUm! um! wall, de sap be up by ter-night, an\u2019 ter-morrer yo\u2019 play sick\nan\u2019 cross de ribber, \u2019case yo\u2019 gotter whup her on her own groun\u2019. Yo\u2019\ncain\u2019t tech her on you\u2019 own, no matter what happin, \u2019case she kin \u2019do\u2019\nyo\u2019 den, an\u2019 she\u2019s de bestes\u2019 hoodoo in dis kentry, \u2019ceptin\u2019 ole Ysbel,\nfur all dat she\u2019s on\u2019y er gal. Don\u2019 yo\u2019 say nuffin ter-night at de\nbre\u2019k-down, ner do nuffin, but yo\u2019 gwine ter see sights, if you does\nwhat I tells yo\u2019. Mek lack ter Solon dat yo\u2019 hain\u2019t gwine sho\u2019 \u2019nough,\ndat yo\u2019 ailin\u2019 er sumpen, an\u2019 let him gin out dat he gwine ter see his\ndaddy. Yo\u2019 lay low twel yo\u2019 hears dem fiddles des er-talkin\u2019 in de\nmiddle er de night, des \u2019fore dey sarve de supper; den yo\u2019 tek you\u2019\nfoot in you\u2019 han\u2019 an\u2019 git down dar; but don\u2019 yo\u2019 go in, an\u2019 don\u2019 yo\u2019 do\nnuffin den, fur hoodoo \u2019oman hain\u2019t lack odder \u2019oman, an\u2019 you cain\u2019t\ngit eben wid \u2019em de same way; but wait twel hit bre\u2019k up, den cut you\u2019\ngrape-vine, an\u2019 den yo\u2019 \u2019ll run \u2019gin sumpen in de dark; hit Ole Cinder\nCat. All yo\u2019 hatter do is ter foller uv her, \u2019case I\u2019se fixed her so\u2019s\nshe gotter sarve yo\u2019; an\u2019 den when yo\u2019 sees what yo\u2019 lookin\u2019 fur, lay\nde grape-vine on, quick an\u2019 fas\u2019, \u2019case hain\u2019t nuffin ail Solon but dat\nyaller hoodoo!\u201d\n\nIt was turning twelve when Old Cinder Cat rose from the hearth, and,\nstretching herself, bounded through the doorway. Juno woke with a start.\n\n\u201cUm! Juno better be gwine too. Mighty fine business fur her ter be in,\nlong er hoodoos an\u2019 Ole Cinder, but she sho\u2019 gwine wid \u2019em dis time,\nmun!\u201d\n\nThe squeak of the old fiddle under Pompey\u2019s fingers, mingled with the\neven patting, was wafted through the open door. Juno looked at the\nheight of the moon.\n\n\u201cHit\u2019s turned midnight now, an\u2019 I\u2019m erg-wine.\u201d\n\nBut she first sought the grape-vine by the spring. The bright moonlight\nflooded everything as with the light of day, and, carefully cutting the\nvine between certain joints, according to the formula of Maum Ysbel,\nJuno hid it beneath her skirt, and took the little path towards the\nsounds of midnight gayety.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cTHE CHARM WAS FOREVER BROKEN, AND THE COMELY HOODOO\nKNEW IT\u201d]\n\nThe barn was radiant with tallow dips that winked and sputtered through\nthe decorations of pine boughs like gorgeous fire-flies. A dance was\nin progress. The men were ranged in one line, the women in another; at\na certain point they met and joined hands. But, arrayed in gorgeous\napparel different from the others, a great red paper flower nodding in\nher hair, her white teeth shining between parted lips, the leader of\nthe dance was the comely yellow girl whom Juno had seen before, and\nher delighted partner was none other than the prodigal Solon himself.\nJuno\u2019s fingers instinctively sought the grape-vine for another purpose\nthan that indicated by Maum Ysbel, but, clinching her hands, she\nwithdrew into the outside shadows again, and the Cinder Cat suddenly\nrubbed against her dress and purred.\n\nSolon danced like one possessed, regardless of time or tune, always\nkeeping his eyes fixed upon the nodding crimson flower; and the yellow\ngirl, with lips drawn tight over the white teeth, watched him with the\neyes of possession.\n\nThen, as he sank upon a bench, exhausted, for Solon was none of the\nyoungest, the voice of an elder whispered in his ear: \u201cBetter g\u2019long\nhome ter de ole \u2019oman! We\u2019ll hab you up in de chu\u2019ch fur dis!\u201d\n\nThe watching eyes in the darkness were burning like coals of fire, but\nSolon pulled loose from the detaining hand. \u201cWhat I keer \u2019bout gwine\nhome ter de ole \u2019oman? What I keer \u2019bout bein\u2019 fotched up? I \u2019ain\u2019\nbothered!\u201d\n\nAnd, despite his age, in every dance Solon led, with the smiling face\nand crimson flower beside him. Others changed partners, but Solon\u2019s was\nalways the same.\n\nNow the candles had burned out, the few that remained were guttering\nand flickering, and then there was one last dance, in which a madness\nseemed to seize Solon, and as he whirled he drew from his pocket a\nlong string of blue glass beads and threw them around the yellow\nhoodoo\u2019s neck. The watching eyes in the darkness glowed with passion,\nfor Solon\u2019s gift was Juno\u2019s sole remaining ornament, now that the moon\near-rings had been bartered.\n\n\u201cLemme hol\u2019 on ter myse\u2019f tight, O Lord!\u201d she groaned. \u201cDes fur er\nlittle while!\u201d And again the Cinder Cat brushed her skirts and purred.\n\n\u201cI gwine foller you in er minit, Cinder! I gwine follow you!\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe silence that was golden lay upon Juno\u2019s lips, and it was a\nrepentant Solon who came to her next night, for the Cinder Cat was gone\nforever from the hearth, the charm was forever broken, and the comely\nhoodoo knew it.\n\nShamefacedly and ill at ease, Solon lolled and smoked, but, still\npreserving her silence, Juno prepared a sumptuous supper for her\nprodigal.\n\nAfter they had eaten she threw a crimson paper flower, ragged and\ndirty, upon his knee, and, drawing her chair close, she lighted her\npipe from his, for she knew that her woes were ended.\n\n\n\n\n \u201cA KINGDOM FOR MICAJAH\u201d\n\n\n\u201cSo you want your freedom, Micajah?\u201d\n\nThe negro who had shambled up to the broad veranda dropped his eyes and\nshuffled uneasily, for there was a world of wonderment and kindliness\nin the master\u2019s tone.\n\n\u201cAnd this is the meaning of all the devilment I\u2019ve heard of lately\u2014all\nthis talking among the negroes?\u201d\n\n\u201cI reckon so, sar.\u201d\n\n\u201cAt your age, Micajah, when you\u2019ve been a self-respecting negro all\nyour life, to go cutting up and making mischief among the other negroes\nbecause you want your freedom\u2014that\u2019s a fine way to get it! Haven\u2019t you\nalways gotten all you asked for? If you wanted freedom, why didn\u2019t you\ncome and ask for it?\u201d\n\nThe master lifted his glasses to his forehead and looked reproachfully\ninto the queer black face before him.\n\n\u201cDidn\u2019t \u2019low, Ole Marse, as how you\u2019d gib hit ter me,\u201d said the negro,\nhumbly, but persistently.\n\nJudge Naylor looked from the rose-twined piazza across the spacious\nlawn, under whose oaks his own father had romped, and beyond whose\nlimits had joyously hunted with another Micajah, as small and as black\nas the one before him. _He_ had never dreamed of freedom. Was this the\ninnate craving of the human for something higher, or only a reflection\nof an external picture? The Judge resolved upon an experiment.\n\n\u201cYou are mistaken,\u201d said the Judge, gravely, as he knocked the ash from\nhis pipe. \u201cI will give it to you. And what sort of freedom is it that\nyou want, Micajah?\u201d\n\nThe old slave scratched his head and swayed uncomfortably.\n\n\u201cWhy, des freedom, Ole Marse.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat kind of freedom, Micajah? What is it that you want? Speak out,\nfor I am going to give you your freedom for a whole month, and you\nshall have all that you want to go with it,\u201d added the Judge.\n\nUncle Cage gasped. The enormity of the idea was too much for him.\n\n\u201cAnd here were Ole Marse des er-talkin\u2019 \u2019bout hit lack hit were er chaw\ner terbaccy\u2014des es easy an\u2019 quiet lack,\u201d said Micajah, afterwards, in\nconfidence.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d queried the Judge, \u201cwhat do you want as a free nigger, Micajah?\u201d\n\nMicajah scraped the dust with his foot; twice he made a little mound of\nit with his toes and twice smoothed it out.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t wanter be no \u2019free nigger,\u2019 Ole Marse. I des wants freedom.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, go on; don\u2019t be afraid; you shall have what you want.\u201d\n\nCage\u2019s eyes sparkled, and at last his tongue was loosened.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019 wanter work none, Ole Marse. I wants ter hear dat horn blow at\nfive in de mornin\u2019, an\u2019 I wants ter git up, mad lack, an\u2019 holler outen\nde winder, \u2019You derned ole raskil, what you wake me up dis time er day\nfur?\u2019 Den I wants ter fling my boot-jack at him, an\u2019 go on back ter\nsleep, I does. Um, um\u2014an\u2019 when de ole \u2019oman \u2019low, \u2019Cage, yo\u2019 git up\nan\u2019 make dat fire,\u2019 I wants ter \u2019low back ter her, \u2019I hain\u2019t er-makin\u2019\nfires fur niggers,\u2019 an\u2019 I wants ter go back ter sleep, I does\u2014fur, Ole\nMarse\u201d\u2014here Cage bent closer and almost whispered\u2014\u201cI wants my freedom\nfum de ole \u2019oman too, den, an\u2019 I don\u2019t want her ter git freedom, nohow.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll right. Anything else to go with your freedom, Micajah?\u201d\n\nAll timidity and sullenness were forgotten, and Micajah\u2019s face was\nradiant.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019 wanter hope do dat cl\u2019arin\u2019, Ole Marse, down by de ribber, an\u2019\nwhen de niggers is er-sweatin\u2019 an\u2019 er-workin\u2019, I wants ter be takin\u2019 er\nmy ease. Um, um\u2014an\u2019 I wants some clo\u2019se, white folks\u2019 clo\u2019se; an\u2019, Ole\nMarse, I wants er book lack yo\u2019 got in de house.\u201d\n\n\u201cA book? When did you learn to read, Micajah?\u201d\n\n\u201cLord! Ole Marse, ole Cage cain\u2019t read; he des want ter tote hit roun\u2019\nlack yo\u2019 does.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall have it,\u201d said the master, heartily. \u201cNow what else?\u201d\n\n\u201cI wants er little nigger, er little nigger, Ole Marse.\u201d Here Micajah\nscratched his head thoughtfully. \u201cNone er mine, ner none on dis side\ner de ribber, but er little nigger dat ain\u2019 know me \u2019fore I git\nfreedom\u2014dat ain\u2019 _see_ me work. An\u2019 I wants dat little nigger ter\nfoller me ever\u2019whar I goes, er-totin\u2019 er palm-leaf fan, an\u2019 I wants\nhim ter fan dese foots when I sets down er lays down, an\u2019 I wants ter\nholler at him when he ain\u2019 move fas\u2019 ernough, an\u2019 cuss him when he move\ntoo fas\u2019, but I wants him ter keep er-foll\u2019in\u2019 wid de palm-leaf fan.\u201d\n\nMicajah, from sheer ecstasy of contemplation, paused.\n\n\u201cBut I don\u2019 wanter be no \u2019free nigger,\u2019 Ole Marse, lack Free Joe and\nYaller Pete, \u2019case they hain\u2019t nuffin but des niggers, \u2019douten er\nmarster, errer home, ner nuffin; dey don\u2019 eben know whar dey git dey\nnex\u2019 sumpen ter eat fum; but I des wants ter taste freedom.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well, Micajah; you shall begin to taste it at once, and I hope\nthat it will do you good. You need not go to the field to-morrow, and\nyou can pick out your little negro from over the river this afternoon.\nCindy will give you my old broadcloth\u2014you can roll up the legs and\nsleeves if they are too long\u2014and I will not forget the book; and, mind,\nif anybody asks you to do a lick of work for a whole month, you send\nthem to me.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe plantation work went on smoothly without Micajah\u2019s presence, much\nto the disgust of Milly, his wife, who had been reprimanded more than\nonce for berating Cage about his trifling ways. Micajah got his little\nnigger from over the river\u2014one who had never seen him before, and who\nwas as thoroughly abject and respectful as even Cage could wish; so the\nlatter\u2019s joy knew no bounds, and he was rapidly demonstrating, to his\nmaster\u2019s great amusement, the close kinship of the tyrant and the slave.\n\nMicajah\u2019s freedom was a matter of wonderment to the negroes as he\nlooked upon them at their work for a moment with a supercilious air,\nand made some dignified remark, with his book held carelessly under\nhis arm, \u201cperzackly lack Ole Marse,\u201d Cage gleefully congratulated\nhimself\u2014for Cage was wonderfully changed, changed to befit his new\ncondition; and as he turned, followed by the bearer of the palm-leaf\nfan, many were the envious glances cast.\n\nSuch ease, such glory, such a blended dream of shade, watermelons, and\ncob pipes smoked undisturbed, varied by the unspeakable delight of\n\u201ccussin\u2019\u201d and yelling at the little negro!\n\n[Illustration: \u201cPERZACKLY LIKE OLE MARSE\u201d]\n\nBut even this Arcadia had its shadow, for Cage had never had the\necstasy of flinging a boot-jack at his little slave. Boots and their\naccompaniment had been part of the requirements which his master had\nprovided, with the promise that the jack could be flung if the boots\nwere worn; but Cage had been an unshod child of nature, for in that\nequable climate a foot-covering at any season of the year was only a\nmatter of effect, and the exquisite agony of the pegged cowskins was\nmore than he could bear, even with his freedom; so, by her master\u2019s\ndirection, boots and jack were carried triumphantly back to the\nplantation store by Milly, who was more than happy to thus pluck one\nfeather from the wing of freedom.\n\nMilly in these last few days seriously questioned within herself the\nwisdom of Old Marse\u2019s experiment, for it had very much upset the\ndomestic equilibrium; but Milly was a philosopher too, in an humble\nway, and under the existing circumstances she resolved to make an\nexperiment also, the issue of which she was more certain of than Ole\nMarse was of his.\n\n\u201cThink I gwine hab Cage layin\u2019 roun\u2019 here in de shade er w\u2019arin\u2019 er\nbroadclorf ever\u2019 day\u2014an\u2019 Ole Marse ain\u2019 do dat\u2014an\u2019 er-settin\u2019 up he\nole foots ter be fanned lack dey was sumpen, an\u2019 dey es big es all\nout-doo\u2019s, an\u2019 he er-pesterin\u2019 me \u2019bout he fried chicken fur dinner\nlack he were white\u2014an\u2019 dey sen\u2019 hit ter him, too. My Lord! Um\u2014Ole Marse\ndone los\u2019 he head ter \u2019low dat; but I hain\u2019t los\u2019 mine, sho mun, and I\ngwine git eben wid Cage. Talkin\u2019 \u2019bout freedom dis an\u2019 freedom dat, an\u2019\nerlowin\u2019 dat hit sumpen dat Milly cain\u2019t git. Um\u2014if hit make er body es\nlow-down an\u2019 es triflin\u2019 es Cage be, I lay I don\u2019 want hit!\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nBut it was glorious to be envied\u2014a field-hand envied even by the\nhouse-negroes. So Micajah buried his bare feet in the dust when\nimpressing a crowd, and rose in the dignity of his broadcloth. He was\na king, though even for a day, and no ancestor by the far banks of the\nCongo ever ruled more royally.\n\nHe was abused behind his back, but the fruits of the earth were brought\nto his cabin. The horn blew in the morning, but Micajah turned over for\nanother nap. Milly put the buttermilk on the table, but Cage had coffee\nfrom the big house; and at last freedom had grown so great that Micajah\ndeclared that Milly should stand while he was served\u2014that a free man\ncould not sit at table with a slave, even though she was his wife.\n\nThen Milly rose in wrath, and laid two crossed sticks tied with hair\nin the chimney lock, but held her peace. Micajah shivered; ruefully\nhe regretted his boldness, for the dignity of the free man could not\novercome the superstition of the slave, and he had known Milly\u2019s work\nof old. Alas for Micajah! In the splendor of his broadcloth and the\ndeliciousness of freedom he had forgotten to transfer his own hoodoo\u2014it\nwas even then reposing in the pocket of the discarded blue-check\ntrousers\u2014and Milly\u2019s charm would work!\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe clearing down by the river was progressing. It was a kind of\nextra work, and a barn dance and barbecue had been promised in the\nQuarters when the task should be completed. So it was even pleasure,\nthis sweating and hard labor, with the pot of gold, as it were, at the\nend; and, with the \u201cwhoraw\u201d in the Quarters attending each morning\u2019s\ndeparture, the spirit of habit even tempted Uncle Cage to join, for it\nwas getting lonesome with nobody but the little nigger\u2014not even Milly\nin the cabin to lord it over\u2014and the laborers were too busy to listen\nto him if he went idle-handed to the clearing; but he was a free man,\nand freedom did not stoop to such without necessity.\n\nBut latterly the monarchy was not nearly so absolute as it had been;\nthe negroes were not half so envious. Too much familiarity and boasting\nwere breeding contempt, and though Milly was more than welcome among\nthem, they looked at him askance whenever he sought to join in their\nrecreations.\n\nGrowing bolder, they quizzed his little \u201cnig\u201d about him, to the\nformer\u2019s utter demoralization, poking fun at the bare feet and\nbroadcloth; and one of the smart house-negroes disrespectfully\npropounded a conundrum, in effect, \u201cIf all work an\u2019 no play make\nCage er dull nigger, what do all play make him?\u201d Milly\u2019s brother, a\nfield-hand, had actually shouted out, \u201cA big fool nigger!\u201d at which\nCage and his fan-bearer walked away in dignified silence. But the\nfan-bearer was far from satisfactory; there was that in his manner\nwhich betokened sullenness rather than the awe with which he was at\nfirst infused; and though he habitually dodged, it was rather from\nthe fear of the missile than of the man. There was even a symptom of\nrebellion, which Micajah, finding the arts of civilization deficient,\npromptly put down by threatening to hoodoo him with a \u2019gater.\n\nThe imp was quelled for a few days, and during that time he spent all\nthe spare moments when Cage was asleep in the careful examination of\nhis legs and arms for the first indication of the \u2019gater, guardedly\nholding his breath to feel an internal or external wiggle; but, as no\nsigns appeared, he turned a pirouette on his great toe and whispered to\nthe watermelons in the patch that \u201cMarse \u2019Cajah wa\u2019n\u2019t nuffin but er\nnigger man, arter all.\u201d\n\nBut something had surely gone wrong with Micajah\u2019s fortunes. Was\nMilly\u2019s charm working? There it lay in the chimney lock, and Cage dared\nnot touch it. \u201cI knows she put hit dar fur me \u2019case I mek her so mad\n\u2019bout stan\u2019in\u2019 when I eats, an\u2019 now she won\u2019t set down when I axes her;\nan\u2019 if hit air workin\u2019\u2014my Lord! den I\u2019m done fur!\u201d moaned Cage.\n\nSo the Big-house coffee was not half as delicious as it had been, and\nCage took to praising Milly\u2019s buttermilk, sharing her side meat, and\nhe courteously left her a piece of fried chicken on one occasion; but\nMilly would not touch it.\n\nThen, after one sleepless night in which the crown of freedom pressed\nmore heavily upon the monarch\u2019s brow, Micajah sought his master,\nleaving the bearer of the fan sobbing in the cabin from a reprimand\nmore vigorous than pleasant. The Judge was preparing to ride, and he\nsmiled upon the forlorn figure of Micajah.\n\n\u201cWell, Micajah,\u201d said he, flecking the head of a zinnia with his whip,\n\u201chave you thought of something else to go with freedom?\u201d Micajah\nstudied his bare toes sheepishly, then covered them with dust.\n\n\u201cNaw, Ole Marse.\u201d\n\nThe Judge drew nearer. \u201cAre you sick, Micajah?\u201d\n\n\u201cNaw, Ole Marse.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen what do you want? Don\u2019t stand there all day like a dolt.\u201d\n\nMicajah hesitated; something seemed to clog his throat, and he cleared\nit.\n\n\u201cI thought maybe, Ole Marse\u2014I thought es how de time mought be up, an\u2019\nI come ter gib up de freedom and de book.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat? Are you tired already? Why, it is not half up. Go on and have a\ngood time, Micajah.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201c\u2018GO ON AND HAVE A GOOD TIME, MICAJAH\u2019\u201d]\n\nMicajah looked crestfallen, and ambled off as the Judge rode away. \u201cEr\nwhole mont\u2019, an\u2019 hit hain\u2019t half up! Well, dar\u2019s dis erbout hit,\ndat\u2019s one comfort\u2014dem niggers kin \u2019buse me lack dey pleases, an\u2019 dey\ngwine sweat an\u2019 groan fur dey fun; but dis freedom gwine ter fotch hit\nter me lack I were white, ef I des set an\u2019 wait. Dey don\u2019 git tired er\nsettin\u2019 an\u2019 waitin\u2019 fur hit ter come ter \u2019em, an\u2019 I des bardaciously\ngwine steddy some more white folks\u2019 ways \u2019sides totin\u2019 de book.\u201d\n\nBut the blissful contemplation ended as he neared his own cabin. In\nthe doorway sat the fan-bearer, his tears having been wiped away by\nCage\u2019s good dinner, which had arrived from the Big House during the\nconsultation with his master, and to which the imp had bountifully\nhelped himself. Micajah\u2019s heart was sore, but he smothered his wrath\nuntil he had made his meal, while the fan-bearer, with a fragment of\nbelief still in Micajah\u2019s powers, employed the time in feeling again\nfor the incipient \u2019gater. Then Micajah rapped imperiously upon the\ntable.\n\n\u201cYou Amaziah!\u201d The little negro dodged. \u201cYou infernal lazy black\nraskil, Amaziah!\u201d\n\n\u201cHuh!\u201d whimpered the boy.\n\n\u201cYou lim\u2019 er Satan, you lizard-eyed nigger, don\u2019 you say \u2019huh\u2019 ter me!\nYou git me er coal and light my pipe quick! Fill up dat pipe fust, you\nlazy purp! What you got holes in yo\u2019 head fur, hah? Um, um. Now git dat\nfan an\u2019 fan dese here foots twel I tells you ter quit. You heah me!\u201d\n\nThe man of freedom was stretched at full length, with a wreath of smoke\nabout his head and his eyes closed to the world; the little black\npiece of misery was crouched beside him; and so daylight waned and the\ntwilight came on; then the fan dropped from the bearer\u2019s hand; he was\nfast asleep, and so was Micajah.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was great excitement on the plantation, for Susanne, the Madame\u2019s\nmaid, was to marry Henry, Major Stone\u2019s man-in-waiting. Susanne had\ntold the Judge of her desire, and, not wishing to sell Susanne, or to\nseparate her from the husband of her choice, the Judge had promptly\nbought him for a good round sum. The Madame herself had looked to the\ndetails of Susanne\u2019s wedding-gown, for the Madame set great store by\nSusanne, and the ceremony was to be performed in the dining-room.\nThen afterwards would come the feast and dance in the Quarters until\ndaylight, in which the inmates of every cabin, by invitation of the\nbride, might join.\n\nMicajah\u2019s cabin felt the unwonted influence, and even the little\nfan-bearer was in a flutter about the wedding. Milly had been bidden;\ncarefully she laid her small store of finery upon the bed, and was\nsoftly singing to herself before going to the field. Milly believed\nin feasting, though, unlike Micajah, who loved to scrape his foot to\nanybody\u2019s fiddle, she only believed in a certain kind of terpsichorean\nexercise, which she called \u201cde \u2019ligious dance.\u201d Hers was only executed\nupon solemn occasions, or commemorated special emotions, but Milly was\nindulgent to the general fault in others.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThese fair days of freedom were losing more and more of their beauty\nto Uncle Cage; the song of the mocking-bird was far less sweet, and\neven the crimson-and-black beauty of the watermelon had almost lost\nits lusciousness to the idle slave of freedom. But, most of all, the\nimpudence of the jay-birds maddened him when they came to gather from\nthe remnant of his meals.\n\nMany an unpicked bone and half-finished biscuit was flung at them in\nthe abundance, to be regretted in the after-time.\n\n\u201cI lay I gwine larn \u2019em,\u201d muttered Cage, as he resumed his solitary\ndinner after a vigorous onslaught, which was about the only exercise\nthe monarch would allow himself; and the fact was that Uncle Cage\nmight be suspected of a first-class case of dyspepsia, for the life of\nirregularity and idleness was telling hardly upon his astonished organs\nand his temper. \u201cI lay I gwine larn \u2019em\u2014er-eatin\u2019 er my vittles an\u2019\ner-callin\u2019 me \u2019Cage! Cage!\u2019 des es pat, \u2019dout eben er handle ter hit,\nan\u2019 erlowin\u2019 \u2019He got hit! he got hit!\u2019 lack hit any business er thern\nef I _is_ got freedom. I lay I larn \u2019em!\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs he grew more and more irascible the negroes drew entirely away from\nhim, even his chosen few, and freely let him know that they could get\nalong without him. But now the crowning insult had been offered\u2014he had\nnot been bidden to the wedding. It was Milly\u2019s charm\u2014he knew that it\nwas Milly; the fact of his freedom could not alone have worked that\nchange in his fellows; and Milly, finding her spouse exceedingly cross\nupon this particular morning, wisely refrained from any but necessary\nconversation.\n\nMicajah was stung to the quick, and dwelt upon his sorrow. At a wedding\nhe was in his own particular province, and everybody knew it\u2014that was\nwhere it wounded. They had even invited Milly before his eyes, and the\nmessenger had sarcastically \u201c\u2018lowed dat es Cage were erbove workin\u2019 wid\ncommon niggers, he reckoned he were erbove playin\u2019 an\u2019 eatin\u2019 wid \u2019em.\u201d\nAnd the little fan-bearer suffered that day, for Micajah\u2019s feet were\nvery hot.\n\nAt last the momentous hour arrived, and there was much hurrying to\nand fro in the Quarters. Here and there Susanne was swishing her\nwedding-skirts and bandying saucy words with the older negroes, but she\ndid not even pause at Micajah\u2019s cabin.\n\nBut Ole Marse would permit him to witness the ceremony with the\nhouse-negroes because of his freedom, an honor which was never shared\nby the field-hands, and Micajah was secretly glorying, though the glory\nwould be short-lived, for there was the long night before him with its\nbedlam of joy let loose in the Quarters, and he was not to be of it.\n\nSo he stood in the doorway a shiftless figure, an alien, as it were,\nfor he was unused to the manner of the house-negroes and was abashed\nbefore them, and for the present he was not a field-hand, because of\nhis freedom.\n\nFor a moment he lost himself; then the ceremony was over; Ole Mis\u2019s\nsaid something high and grand, and Ole Marse said something funny, and\nthe little procession filed out.\n\nThe night was close and sultry, and as he sat alone in his cabin door\nMicajah could hear the strains of fiddle and banjo\u2014he was even near\nenough to hear the shuffling of feet. The fan-bearer was soundly\nsnoring, after having sobbed himself to sleep, for Micajah had sternly\ndeclared \u201cdat de slabe cain\u2019t go whar he marster hain\u2019t axed\u2014you heah\nme, Amaziah?\u201d\n\nAs the night wore on the fun waxed louder and louder, the spell was\nirresistible, and Uncle Cage was almost beside himself. He had never\nbeen left out before\u2014and this was freedom!\n\nAt last the cake-walk was begun, and Micajah, forgetting his injured\ndignity, his position, and his broadcloth, slipped stealthily out\nto peep at the revellers through a chink; and there was Milly\u2014his\nMilly\u2014leading the walk with Cross-eyed Pete. Micajah dug his toes into\nthe dust. Oh, how peacefully Milly smiled!\n\n\u201cDat cross-eyed houn\u2019 is er-callin\u2019 me outen my name,\u201d he muttered.\n\nHis Milly laughed slyly\u2014and this was freedom!\n\n\u201cHow I ebber gwine make dat nigger know her place ergin?\u201d he groaned.\n\u201cI gwine git back an\u2019 know mine\u2014dat I is. I gwine gib up dis fool\nfreedom if I libs ter see ter-morrer, sho I is; an\u2019 I gwine meet dem\nniggers on ekil groun\u2019s, an\u2019 I gwine split dat cross-eyed nigger inter\nkindlin\u2019 wood\u2014sho I is\u2014if I libs. An\u2019 I gwine ter make de high an\u2019\nmighty niggers ter-night ter eat dirt ter-morrer\u2014dat I is\u2014_yo\u2019 heah\nme_! I larn dat Milly ter laugh at her betters \u2019hine dey backs, if I\npeels ever\u2019 hick\u2019ry on de place\u2014dat I is! O Lord, pity dis heah big\nfool nigger dat hain\u2019t got no mo\u2019 sense \u2019n ter lis\u2019en ter de word er\nSatan, an\u2019 up an\u2019 ax Ole Marse fur dis heah freedom! I\u2019s done wid hit\u2014I\nspits hit out. Des lemme git shet uv hit, an\u2019 I wouldn\u2019 wipe dese ole\nfoots on hit!\u201d\n\nThere was a movement at the door, and, fearing detection, Uncle Cage\nslipped away to seek uneasy dreams.\n\nThrough the long hot days the work had gone on cheerfully in the\nnew land, and now it was so nearly accomplished that the frolic was\njoyfully discussed.\n\nMicajah had all along secretly resolved that he would attend the\nfrolic, with or without a welcome, on the ground of primeval right; but\nthe negroes, informed by Milly, or more probably by the fan-bearer, who\nwas a most untiring carrier of tales, openly resented his intention,\nand now passed his cabin without a recognition, sarcastic or otherwise.\n\nEven the fan-bearer was growing unbearably sullen; no kick or cuff\ncould bring him out of it; his biggest flow of words failed to\nintimidate, and Micajah felt that his position was perilous. He more\nthan once approached his master, with the same result\u2014he must wait\nuntil the time was up.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIt wanted but four days more to the barn dance, and here was one whole\nmiserable week of freedom, and, alas! his freedom from freedom would\ncome too late to save the day, so he resolved to make one more effort,\nand, shame-faced and miserable, Micajah once more sought his master.\n\nThe Judge knitted his brows forbiddingly.\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter, Micajah, that you want to give it up? Haven\u2019t you\ngot all to go with it that you wanted?\u201d\n\n\u201cYas, Ole Marse.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen what the devil is the matter?\u201d\n\n\u201cOle Marse\u201d\u2014Micajah\u2019s voice was very low, and his humbleness was as\nthe dust\u2014\u201cI done fotch back de book, an\u2019 I done fotch back de freedom.\nOne hain\u2019t no betterer dan tuther ter er nigger. Dey bofe on \u2019em lies\nter er nigger, an\u2019 hit hain\u2019t nuffin but miz\u2019ry. Dey don\u2019 \u2019spec\u2019 me no\nmo\u2019; dey don\u2019 lis\u2019en ter me talk no mo\u2019. Eben Milly, my ole \u2019oman\u2014dat I\ngwine frail \u2019din er inch uv her life when I gits shet er freedom\u2014done\nlay er spell on me: I kin feel hit in my bones. Eben de little nigger\nwhat tote de palm-leaf fan done talk sass ter me, an\u2019 I \u2019low I cain\u2019t\nstan\u2019 hit!\u201d\n\nHis master smiled, then bit his mustache gravely.\n\n\u201cBut, Micajah, you must command respect\u2014command it, and you will get\nit.\u201d\n\n\u201cI done \u2019mand hit, Ole Marse,\u201d said Micajah, pitifully, \u201cbut I \u2019mands\nhit lack er nigger, er big fool nigger, an\u2019 hit hain\u2019t done no good.\nGittin\u2019 freedom on de outside don\u2019 make freedom on de inside, Ole\nMarse. I\u2019s \u2019bleeged ter you, Ole Marse, \u2019deed I is, but I wants you ter\ntake hit back. I\u2019s nuffin but er fool nigger, Ole Marse, an\u2019 \u2019fore Gord\nI hain\u2019t gwine cut up no mo\u2019! I\u2019se got all I want \u2019dout freedom, an\u2019 I\ngwine be thankful fur hit!\u201d\n\nMicajah paused expectantly; there was a silence, which was broken by\nthe master\u2019s firm voice.\n\n\u201cI am a man of my word, Micajah. I have promised you a month of\nfreedom, and you have accepted it; I cannot take it back until the time\nis out. Stop your foolishness, and go and make the best of it.\u201d And Ole\nMarse rode away.\n\nMicajah looked long and earnestly into the cloud of dust he left\nbehind. The condition was desperate; something must be done.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cHE COLLARED HIS ASTONISHED LITTLE NIGGER\u201d]\n\nBetween the gate and the Quarters he collared his astonished little\nnigger with no uncertain gesture, and led him across the field towards\nthe river, and when Micajah returned he was alone. Spying the palm-leaf\nfan, the emblem of his freedom and his misery, on the floor of the\ncabin, where it had dropped from the hand of the rebellious Amaziah,\nhe silently tore it into shreds and tossed them from him with a\ncontemptuous grunt.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThat night a theft was committed on the plantation\u2014a very small one, it\nis true, but made memorable because it was the very night that Micajah\nsent the little negro home. Such a thing was almost unheard of, and the\noverseer, a black Hercules, was very indignant.\n\nThe next night a similar depredation was discovered, and the negroes\nwere at fever-heat. \u201cReckon Ole Marse \u2019bout ter lose he min\u2019, ter set\nstill an\u2019 see things erg-wine on diserway an\u2019 hain\u2019t raise his han\u2019;\nbut I gwine raise mine, sho mun!\u201d declared the overseer.\n\nSo a cordon of guards was formed, with regular reliefs, and the\nnight-watch began. The midnight wore away, the stars winked out, and\nthe last guard slept peacefully before the rising sun, and no marauder\ndisturbed the stillness of the smoke-house. But something had happened.\nThe house, the Quarters, the very air, was full of it. A runaway nigger\nhad been caught on Major Stone\u2019s plantation, was caught stealing, and\nwas even now being carried in handcuffs to the court-house to await his\nowner.\n\nThe summer season was dull enough in the little village which had the\nhonor of being the county-seat, and the passing of the Judge\u2019s carriage\nwas of sufficient moment to attract a knot of idlers. So, too, the\nlittle court-room was filled with the same material, even before the\nJudge had leisurely alighted, after his usual custom; for, as the\nnegroes said, \u201cEben de toot er Gabrul moughten pester Ole Marse; he\ngwine \u2019bout he business, an\u2019 hain\u2019t gwine herry fur nobody!\u201d\n\nThe runaway was secreted in an inner chamber; nobody had even seen\nhim, and speculation ran high; but the Judge, in the most exasperating\nmanner possible, calmly disposed of some minor matters, leisurely\njoking his constituents, as was his wont, utterly oblivious of the\nthrong of eager faces.\n\nAt last every joke had been turned and every paper signed, when the\nJudge relapsed into sternness.\n\n\u201cBring in the prisoner!\u201d\n\nThe mysterious door opened, and Major Stone preceded the little\nprocession, stroking his beard in a peculiar manner, but as grave as a\nchief mourner.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve got a good one on him now,\u201d he whispered to Attorney Allen as he\npassed up the aisle.\n\nThen followed the culprit, his crossed wrists in the little steel\ncuffs, his head bent low upon his breast. There was something painfully\nfamiliar in the figure. The now soiled and torn broadcloth, even upon\nits spare ebon rack, still held the Judge\u2019s outline in its creases.\nLudicrously pitiful the picture, and the crowd swayed and murmured.\n\nThe Judge rose to his feet. He was thinking of green fields and boyish\ndays, of the clear brook beyond the pasture, of the pair of honest\nblack feet that had timed their pace to his.\n\n\u201cMicajah!\u201d\n\nThere was a world of pathos in the tone. It mattered not if the whole\nof his little world was there to hear it\u2014attorneys, clients, negroes,\nand all.\n\n\u201cI\u2019se comin\u2019, Ole Marse!\u201d The pitiful wail rang through the court-room,\nand the old slave, oblivious of any other presence, fell prone at his\nmaster\u2019s feet.\n\n\u201cTake de cuss offen me, Ole Marse, an\u2019 lemme die, fur dat freedom hit\nride me lack er hant, an\u2019 let loose de debil in ole Cage! Take hit\nback, Ole Marse, fur I got er whole week er dat mizerbul freedom lef\u2019,\nan\u2019 you wouldn\u2019 take hit back! Dat what mek me brek in yo\u2019 smoke-house\nfur, an\u2019\u2014oh, Lord! I\u2019s er mizerbul sinnin\u2019 nigger, all on ercount er\ndis heah freedom; an\u2019 you nebber sont de oberseer ter whup me; but I\nwere willin\u2019\u2014de Lord He know how willin\u2019 I were\u2014if I mought git shet er\ndis heah freedom!\u201d\n\nThere was a pause, broken by Micajah\u2019s sobs.\n\n\u201cTell it all, Micajah,\u201d said the Judge.\n\n\u201cDat what I taken Marse Harry Stone\u2019s tuckeys fur. I ain\u2019 want dem\ntuckeys, Ole Marse\u2014dey done tied out dar in de fiel\u2019 now\u2014but I wants\nter get shet er dis heah freedom! I hain\u2019t nuffin but des er po\u2019 fool\nnigger, Ole Marse. I hain\u2019t gwine ter ax fur nuffin ebber no mo\u2019\u2014nuffin\nbut sumpen ter eat, an\u2019 mighty little er dat! Yo\u2019 knows what\u2019s the\nbestes\u2019 fur me, Ole Marse, an\u2019 yo\u2019 knows I hain\u2019t fitten ter breave de\nbref er life! Kill me, Ole Marse, kill me; but \u2019fore yo\u2019 does hit take\nde cuss er freedom offen my soul!\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nA sudden gust must have blown dust in the Judge\u2019s eyes, for he winked\nthem hard, then blew his nose vociferously.\n\nA whispered consultation was held with Major Stone.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s entirely satisfactory to me, Judge\u201d\u2014the Major was smiling.\n\n\u201cThe case is dismissed!\u201d roared the Judge.\n\n\n\n\n THE DEVIL\u2019S LITTLE FLY\n\n\nIn the long ago, when the nether world was not so densely populated\nas it now is, and the days were not so full of interest, never having\nforgotten an early experience with a most beautiful woman, and often\nfeeling the spirit of adventure strong upon him, the lord of that\ndomain used to walk abroad upon the earth in the cool of the evening.\n\nMany of these excursions were full of excitement and variety, and\nsometimes of great daring upon the part of Satan, as there was no need\nof the slightest disguise, for the world was not so wise as it is now,\nand those simple folk, both fine and poor, white and black, dallied\nwith Satan without question.\n\nBut the subjugation of an entire plantation, from the \u201cQuality\u201d to the\n\u201cQuarters,\u201d required time\u2014more time, often, than Satan could give\nconsecutively\u2014so there were certain emissaries to be employed during\nenforced absences.\n\nNow, by way of practice, the devil had conquered the \u201cQuarters\u201d of a\ngreat plantation, even to every soul, with the exception of an old\nmammy and a certain Zacheus who was very cautious, and was preparing\nplans for the \u201cBig House,\u201d when something went wrong with the eternal\nfire below, and the devil was besought to depart in haste.\n\nHis old courier, the jay-bird, brought the message from the under\nworld, whither he had gone to deposit his usual load of firewood; and\nhe was in no fine humor, for every Friday he bitterly remembered the\nday he had sold himself, in an unguarded moment, to the devil, for a\nworm-eaten, half-filled ear of corn\u2014\u201csight unseen,\u201d complained the jay\nto Mrs. Jay, when he sometimes filled the air with vain regrets.\n\n\u201cDey says dat dey want you mighty bad down dar; de fire hain\u2019t half\nhot, an\u2019 dar\u2019s sumpen de matter wid de furnace,\u201d said the jay.\n\n\u201cYou right sho dey needs me?\u201d asked the devil, for he had other fish to\nfry that Friday morning,\n\n\u201cCourse I is,\u201d said the jay, crossly, for he was very tired, and had\ncarelessly gotten his feathers scorched in the lower regions. \u201cThink I\ngwine come all de way back ter tell you er lie? Ax my cousin, de crow;\nhe went wid me ter de do\u2019 an\u2019 heared \u2019em gib hit out!\u201d\n\n\u201cGo back,\u201d said the devil, getting angry, \u201can\u2019 tell \u2019em I hain\u2019 gwine\ncome twel dis day week, an\u2019 ter keep dat fire hot, if dey knows what\u2019s\ngood fur deyse\u2019fs! I got er job er my own ter \u2019ten\u2019 ter, \u2019dout any\npartnerships!\u201d\n\n\u201cGo ter hell yo\u2019se\u2019f! I hain\u2019t due dar twel nex\u2019 Friday, an\u2019 I hain\u2019t\ngwine budge twel den,\u201d said the jay-bird as he preened his scorched\nwing and flew away.\n\nNow the devil had a love-affair on hand, one of those strange,\ninexplicable things that require very careful handling, and it was the\nsame old cry down below\u2014any ordinary devil who knew his business could\nattend to that.\n\nSo the devil importuned the crow to take the message; but Squire\nBillups had just planted a large field of corn; there was work enough\nin that for Mister Crow to do for a whole week; he was not compelled to\nserve the devil but a single day out of the week, and he had already\ngiven that service; besides, Mrs. Crow was just beginning to hatch, and\nno self-respecting _paterfamilias_ could fail to be within call during\nsuch an important event. The owl was too blind to go, for the journey\nhad to be made by daylight; the black-snake was too sleepy, for his\nseason was not yet fully arrived; the terrapin was too slow; and there\nwas nothing left except the little fly; but the little fly was always\nready, though his work must always be rendered upon the earth.\n\nSo, with many impatient stampings of his foot, the devil set about to\ntake his departure. He got down upon his knees and blew his breath into\na dandelion puff, and whispered to the seed, and a wind rose, and the\nseed scattered, and the down floated through an open window of the Big\nHouse and tickled Marse Charles\u2019s ear as he lay asleep.\n\nNow Marse Charles was come to attend the house-party of Marse Beverly\nBaillie, and was mad with love of Miss Demetria, Marse Beverly\u2019s\nyoungest daughter, who looked above the highest, and had no mind to\nmarry any man. But Marse Charles, in his cloak of green-and-gold lace,\nswore upon his jewelled sword that he would win. Even now, as he slept,\nhe held between his moist fingers a withered rose that had nestled upon\nthe bosom of the cold Demetria.\n\nIt was such as this that the devil was loath to leave, and as he blew\nthe seeds of the dandelion ball he sowed the seeds of jealousy in Marse\nCharles\u2019s heart. Marse Charles sighed in his sleep, and clutched the\nwithered rose; then the night became as daylight to him, and his eyes\nwere wide open.\n\nBiding his time, so that jealousy might breed the mushroom hate, the\ndevil lingered, leaving the doubtful hours of the night to pass away;\nbut between midnight and day, when the young man was wellnigh crazed\nwith evil passions, the devil threw off all disguise and stood before\nhim.\n\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d cried Marse Charles, springing from his bed and\nstretching his swollen eyelids in the dusky light as his hand sought\nhis sword.\n\n\u201cOne who can do you a service,\u201d said the devil, talking fine, for he\nalways chose his language according to his surroundings.\n\nMarse Charles\u2019s brain was full of fever, and he put up his sword and\nlistened, while he crushed nervously the rose within his palm.\n\n\u201cYou are young, you are noble, you have the treasures of the earth\nbefore you,\u201d said the devil, soothingly, \u201cand yet you are the most\nmiserable man in all creation.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you know about my misery?\u201d cried Marse Charles, angrily.\n\n\u201cWhat do I _not_ know?\u201d asked the devil, sagely. \u201cI know that you love\nDemetria, that she disdains you, that you have a rival.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d sighed Marse Charles, \u201cthat is it\u2014I have a rival! Whoever,\nwhatever you are, aid me if you can, for I am mad with love. I have\nwritten a challenge to my rival, that we may settle this at daylight. I\nwas about to send it when you called.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot so fast,\u201d said the devil, lifting a warning finger and drawing\nnearer. \u201cHot blood is the father of many regrets. Your rival is a\nbetter swordsman.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut \u2019tis honor! I do this for my honor!\u201d said Marse Charles, loudly,\npuffing out his breast, frog fashion.\n\n\u201cHush! not so loud! Your honor will do you much credit when you rot in\nthe ground, run through with your rival\u2019s sword,\u201d sneered the devil,\n\u201cleaving him in possession of Demetria\u2019s favor. My plan is better than\nthat.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is your plan, and who the devil are you?\u201d cried Marse Charles,\nwrithing at the possibility of losing Demetria.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s just it\u2014I am he,\u201d said the devil, chuckling; and, stretching\nout his arm, he touched Marse Charles with a hand as soft as velvet.\n\u201cThe world is mine, and I would sit upon a throne, my rightful seat, if\nit were not for this!\u201d and he kicked out his hoof foot petulantly.\n\n\u201cWell, what is your plan? I haven\u2019t time to listen to your miserable\ntroubles; I\u2019ve enough of my own,\u201d said Marse Charles, impatiently.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s so; I was talking to no purpose then,\u201d said the devil,\nfingering Marse Charles\u2019s ruffles. \u201cBut this, briefly, is to the point.\nUpon a certain condition, if you will do as I bid you, Demetria shall\ndetest the very presence of your rival, disasters shall come upon him,\nand, lastly, Demetria shall smile upon your suit.\u201d\n\n\u201cWords are cheap,\u201d said Marse Charles, languidly. \u201cWhat proof can you\ngive me that you can do all of these things?\u201d\n\n\u201cLook upon the occurrences of every day\u2014look out upon the world\u2014what\nbetter proof need I give?\u201d said the devil, archly. \u201cMoreover, if you\nwish, you shall know the innermost life of your lady as though you\nheld a mirror ever before her face; her every act, her every sigh,\nnothing shall be hidden from you that you may have the desire to hear\nor know.\u201d\n\nMarse Charles pondered awhile, but the devil and the moonlight,\ntogether with his old-fashioned frenzy of love, had turned his head.\n\n\u201cName your condition!\u201d he cried, tearing the challenge into little\nbits; and there, in the beginning of the gray dawn, Marse Charles did\nwhat many a man, both before and since, has done.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIt matters little to the story to give the exact specifications of the\nbargain, though Mammy, in the telling of it, was always very particular\nto describe minutely all of the virtues that go to make up the best\npart of a man\u2014in other words, his soul. The awfulness of the bargain\nwas duly impressed upon Mammy\u2019s small listeners; how Marse Charles, for\nthe love of a woman, had given up happiness forever and forever; how\nthe eternal fires of hell were to be kept at white heat with fiendish\ndelight by those who had made similar bargains; how the days of his\ncoming were written in fiery letters upon the walls, and there would\nbe no water in all hell for Marse Charles to drink, save the tears of\nthe lost, which flowed forever, and they were exceedingly bitter and\nfull of regret.\n\n\u201cCan\u2019t he ever, ever get out, Mammy?\u201d asked the little maid, whose lips\nwere quivering, and whose great eyes were full of unshed tears.\n\n\u201cYas, honey,\u201d said Mammy, hastily, \u201cif er good hoodoo kim erlong \u2019fore\nde bref leabe Marse Charles, er \u2019pentance kim \u2019fore de wo\u2019ms \u2019stroy de\nbody\u2014an\u2019 er good hoodoo sho gwine kim!\u2014so don\u2019 you cry, honey!\u201d\n\nBut now, said Mammy, the devil had his man hard and fast, heart and\nhand, and when it became his time to leave the earth for a season he\ntook Marse Charles out into a lonely place, and put into his hand a\ntiny snuff-box made of gold, curiously wrought upon the top.\n\n\u201cI will leave you now,\u201d said the devil, \u201cfor the rest will be fair\nsailing. I have jaundiced your Demetria\u2019s eyes to your rival. She sees\nthat he has a squint, and talks with a drawl, and that he drags one\nfoot in dancing. Misery is entering her soul, and she is very unhappy,\nfor she believes that the squint is due to the hard counting of her\nfather\u2019s acres and slaves.\n\n\u201cIn this box,\u201d continued the devil, \u201cI leave you my most useful\npossession, one that will never slumber and never sleep. You can keep\nwatch upon Demetria when she goes abroad; but when the doors are closed\nbetween you, when you would know her every word and every act, just\nopen the box, for nothing can be hid from the little fly. In two weeks\nI will come again, and in the meantime I wish you joy.\u201d\n\nSo the devil went back to hell, chuckling as he went, for he carried\nMarse Charles\u2019s conscience, fluttering like a wounded bird, in his\nhand, and Marse Charles put the little gold box beneath his lace\nruffles and went on his way rejoicing.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow it chanced soon after that there was a great meet, and the ladies\nand their gallants rode into the far woods. It was a fine company, for\nMarse Beverly Baillie had scattered his invitations broadcast, that\nthe world might see the young Demetria. Marse Charles, on his great\nbay, rode sulkily alone, for his rival was in a high humor, having been\npaired to ride with the fair Demetria.\n\nAs he rode, Marse Charles was ready to question the efficacy of his\nbargain, when, just in the second mile, his rival\u2019s horse went lame\u2014so\nlame that he was forced to turn back, and Marse Charles, with much\nbantering and light laughter, gallantly rode forward with a dozen\nothers to take his place. But the sun shone for Marse Charles and the\nworld was fair, for Demetria gave him her sweetest smile.\n\nLate in the day the rival came, upon a fresher horse; but Demetria had\nno eyes for him, all of her favors were reserved for Marse Charles;\nand as they rested upon a shady knoll after dinner, beside a bubbling\nspring, Marse Charles lost no time, and told his love in most vehement\nfashion.\n\nBut perplexities will creep in, even into the best-planned schemes,\nfor as Marse Charles talked he thoughtlessly drew from his bosom the\ndevil\u2019s snuff-box, and as he toyed idly with the lid the sharp eyes of\nDemetria remarked its curious workmanship.\n\n\u201cA trophy!\u2014a memento to mark the day!\u201d she cried, throwing down a\njewelled medallion, into which she had deftly slipped a ring of her own\nbright hair.\n\n\u201cA pawn of love as precious as heart\u2019s blood!\u201d cried Marse Charles,\ntwirling his mustache and gallantly kissing the golden curl as he threw\nupon the grass an Egyptian bracelet, which he always wore concealed\nfrom view, and which held a tiny needle and a poisoned drop, forgotten\nby Marse Charles.\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d pouted the spoiled Demetria. \u201cA manlier trophy\u2014I would have the\nbox\u2014the little box you toyed with just now!\u201d\n\nThe blood of poor Marse Charles ran cold. What would he not give to\nplease the sweet Demetria? He almost reached his hand to yield it, but\nthe little fly buzzed hard within, and, starting with a shock, he hid\nit in his bosom.\n\n\u201cA princess wore the bracelet once,\u201d began Marse Charles. \u201cIt has a\nwonderful history. Make it more wonderful and wear it for me, sweet!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I would have the box!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut it will make thee sneeze!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I will sneeze! Your love means less than any bubble here if you\nshall hold so fast to such a trifling thing!\u201d\n\nThen Demetria shed tears, and more reproaches followed, and Marse\nCharles, cold even to the marrow\u2019s centre from fear, let loose the\ndevil\u2019s little fly and threw the box upon the grass.\n\n\u201cHow beautiful!\u201d said Demetria, snatching it up; \u201cbut, Charles, you\nplayed me false; it holds no snuff, and cannot make me sneeze. I only\nthought to try you, but now I will not give it back again, to punish\nyou for the teasing!\u201d\n\nSo Charles, restored, basked in the light of love, and comforted\nhimself with the thought that Demetria soon would tire of the box.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was fine sport and much merriment in the far wood, and such ado\nto make shelter when a thunder-storm came on. But the rain would not\ncease, and, in the cold drizzle which followed, the gay company, with\nlimp gauderies and feathers, mounted for the return. But nothing damped\nthe ardor of Marse Charles, and, as they rode, his hearty laughter,\nmingled with Demetria\u2019s, fell upon the ears of the cavalcade.\n\nMarse Charles had made a scoop at something with his hand, and Demetria\nlaughed again. \u201cOn my word, Mr. Charles, such grace it has seldom been\nmy good fortune to see!\u201d\n\n\u201cA most persistent fly,\u201d said Marse Charles, catching at it again,\nas he felt the cold clinging feet upon his forehead. Then, suddenly\nremembering, he was silent, and with reddening cheek he caught the\nlittle fly out of the rain into the folds of his cloak.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe days wore on, and, as the devil had promised, disasters, one close\nupon the heels of another, overtook the rival of Marse Charles. Now\nit was an ague, now a broken limb, now a fever\u2014so fast they came,\nindeed, that he dared not try to reach his home between his woes; and,\ncourteous to all men, Demetria salted his gruel, but made sweet eyes at\nMarse Charles.\n\nBut all this time Marse Charles was troubled about the little fly.\nDemetria still treasured the box, and there was no spot in which\nto keep the little fly in safety. Marse Charles felt that it was a\nprecious trust, and faith must be kept by a man of honor, though even\nwith the devil. And sometimes, but for an opportune buzz, Marse Charles\nwould have killed it for a common house pest, which always made him\nvery serious.\n\nEvery day and every night the little fly brought in a full report, over\nwhich Marse Charles gloated as a miser over gold; but at last even\nthe devil\u2019s emissary grew weary of roosting in precarious places, and\nconsidering that Marse Charles had broken faith by disposing of the\nbox, was less and less vigilant, and finally cultivated a spirit of\nrebellion.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow Demetria was blessed with an old mammy, as fine a blending of\nmother-wit and shrewdness as ever wore a Madras kerchief, and who was\nmarried to that Zacheus who dealt in charms and \u201ccungers.\u201d\n\nEvery night since Demetria\u2019s babyhood Mammy had drawn the bed-curtains\nfor her mistress, and sitting in the same old chair, had fanned and\ntold her stories until she fell asleep; but of late Demetria was\nrestless, and the stories did not soothe. In vain Mammy shook the\ncurtains and drew them farther back, then opened the French windows\nwide upon the broad veranda. In vain she brushed out the long yellow\nlocks; Demetria still sighed, and would not close her eyes.\n\n\u201cWhat ail my chile?\u201d crooned Mammy, softly wielding her great\npalm-leaf, and forgetful that she was speaking to other than a child.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m miserable, Mammy, miserable, ever since the day of the meet.\nSomething seems to be taking my strength. See how I have fallen away!\u201d\nAnd the little figure in its white robes was small enough indeed.\n\n\u201cUm!\u201d crooned Mammy. \u201cI gwine mek my chile some sassafac tea\u2014dat mek\nher better! Hi! dar dat mizerbul fly ergin! I sho gwine git hit out\n\u2019fore I lets down de bar dis night. Don\u2019 be \u2019feared, honey!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s no use. I can\u2019t sleep, Mammy!\u201d said Demetria, fretfully.\n\n\u201cNebber min\u2019,\u201d said Mammy, as soft as a cradle-song; \u201cyo\u2019 be all right\nbimeby. Hain\u2019t yo\u2019 tell Marse Charles yo\u2019 lub him? Hain\u2019t yo\u2019 done\npromus ter marry wid him whedder Marse Avery die or no? An\u2019 hain\u2019t\nMarse Charles des plum crazy \u2019bout yo\u2019, an\u2019 cain\u2019t say \u2019good-bye\u2019 \u2019fore\nhe say \u2019howdy,\u2019 fur de lub er yo\u2019?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d said Demetria, wearily, \u201cand yet I am not happy, Mammy.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy Lord!\u2014wid all dem di\u2019munts an\u2019 things? Yo\u2019 is er mighty sp\u2019ilt\nchile, honey! But I hope do it,\u201d added Mammy, complacently. \u201cNebber\nmin\u2019, baby, yo\u2019 be all right arter while; yo\u2019 des narvous.\u201d\n\n\u201cCuss dat fly!\u201d said Mammy, under her breath, for the little thing\neluded her at every turn, and, giving it up, Mammy softly fanned until\nDemetria moaned in uneasy slumber.\n\n\u201cI gwine git ter de bottom er dis. Hain\u2019t all right, sho \u2019nough. I been\ner-tryin\u2019 nigh onter two weeks now, an\u2019 I cain\u2019t ketch dat fly nary\ntime!\u201d\n\nDemetria\u2019s hand was under her pillow, as it had been on all of these\nrestless nights.\n\n\u201cWon\u2019er what she got unner dar, po\u2019 little gal!\u201d\n\nMammy tenderly drew the little hand from its hiding, and in its palm\nthe devil\u2019s snuff-box lay. Mammy eyed it curiously.\n\n\u201cMighty quare thing fur my chile ter hug up so close, fur she des hate\nsnuff! Um! dat ole fly sho think dat box got sugar in it\u2014Shoo!\u201d\n\nBut curiosity was too much for Mammy, and she opened the lid, and the\nfly dropped down and nestled in the corner of the box. Mammy closed the\nlid with a snap, shutting the little fly in.\n\n\u201cSumpen mighty quare \u2019bout dis. I gwine tek dis ter Zacheus!\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe whole plantation rang next day with the loss of the curious box, an\nheirloom and a token from Marse Charles to Demetria; but the box was\nnot found, and Marse Charles wandered about, pale and ill at ease, for\nthe little fly did not return.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe narrative of the dusky story-teller does not falter at this\njuncture, for there were always three pairs of eager eyes that were\nburning into hers. \u201cZacheus was the hoodoo\u2014the good hoodoo who could\nsteal souls back from the devil!\u201d sang the chorus.\n\n\u201cUm\u2014and when de ole mammy what were his wife lay de gole-worked box in\nZacheus\u2019s han\u2019, Zacheus gib er great big laugh, \u2019case es soon es hit\ntech his han\u2019 hit turn ter nuffin but er debil\u2019s snuff-box\u2014you know,\nchillen\u2014one er dem brown spongy things wid dus\u2019 in \u2019em dat you fin\u2019 in\nde woods; an\u2019 den de little fly fly up mighty survigrous an\u2019 try ter\nbite Zacheus on de mouf.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 dat what de little miss been sleepin\u2019 wid unner her head?\u201d said\nZacheus. \u201cDe charm Marse Charles gib her? Um, dar\u2019s work for Zacheus!\u201d\n\nOf course the gold snuff-box was never found, though the plantation was\nsearched far and near, and to Demetria no one bemoaned its loss louder\nthan Mammy; but down in the Quarters, when she could steal away, she\nwas watching Zacheus mix his pot of sweet ointment with which to kill\nthe fly, for the fly would not eat.\n\n\u201cI kin kill de fly,\u201d growled Zacheus, \u201cbut I don\u2019 wanter \u2019do\u2019 Marse\nCharles, so I gotter change de charm.\u201d\n\nMarse Charles, whiter and thinner by reason of sleeplessness, listened\nto Demetria\u2019s songs with a ringing in his ears, and gorged every common\nhouse-fly that he could coax, on sugar, in the vain hope of finding\nagain the devil\u2019s little fly; but the little fly was lying with stiff\nwings outside of Zacheus\u2019s pot of ointment, and James, the barber, had\ngiven Zacheus a lock of Marse Charles\u2019s hair.\n\nThe time was up. The devil would return. What then?\n\nMarse Charles hardly remembered how it was, but once again, after a\nnight when sleep would not come, he found himself sitting opposite, in\nthe hazy light, as once before.\n\n\u201cHow dare you\u201d\u2014said the devil\u2014\u201cpart with my box, to give it as a token,\na lover\u2019s toy? You have forfeited your bargain, and I am undone; but\nthe girl is mine!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d cried Marse Charles, his eyes starting from their sockets.\n\n\u201cI tell you that I love her\u2014that I am mad with love for her\u2014and by the\ntoken that she keeps she is lost!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe token cannot be found,\u201d said Marse Charles.\n\n\u201cWhat does it matter? She is mine. She is mine!\u201d cried the devil,\ntremulous with passion, for the hoodoo had given him a human heart in\norder to torment him and to change the charm. \u201cDo you think that I\nwould yield her now, to such dirty scum as you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will protect her with my life, even if I cannot win her,\u201d said Marse\nCharles, hotly, for the devil in his rage had let loose Marse Charles\u2019s\nconscience.\n\n\u201cChoose your weapons,\u201d said the other, mockingly, \u201cfor the sword of the\ndevil is a double-pointed sword; it wounds the soul, not the flesh\u2014the\nspirit, not the body.\u201d\n\nAnd back of the orchard, said Mammy, while the whole world was asleep,\nwas fought grimly and silently the bitterest duel of the earth.\n\nThere were no witnesses save Zacheus, and though he rendered yeoman\nservice to his mistress and to her lover\u2019s bartered soul, he looked\nupon the duel, and Mammy solemnly declared that the sight of it made\nhim blind.\n\nThrough and through, the devil thrust Marse Charles, but the blade came\nout dry and bright; not a drop of blood was spilled; and after Marse\nCharles\u2019s lunges, Zacheus swore that he could see the light through the\nbody of the devil.\n\nMarse Charles was almost sinking to his knees, and the devil raised\nhis arms exulting, when on a sudden impulse Marse Charles rose with\na mighty effort and made a double cut in the shape of a cross on\nthe breast of his opponent. That was what he should have done long\nago, said Mammy; even if he had only worn a little gold cross on his\nwatch-guard it would have been a protection, for at Marse Charles\u2019s new\nmovement the devil gave one hoarse cry and fled into the shadows of the\nbreaking day.\n\nOf course the \u201cQuality\u201d at the Big House did not know of the plotting\nthat had been going on, or of the fearful duel that had ended it.\n_They_ were not the privileged beings of the earth, and so they only\nknew it was with pale brow and downcast eyes that Marse Charles came\nto say farewell, and that Marse Beverly Baillie clapped him on the\nshoulder, like the good soul that he was, by way of comfort\u2014\n\n\u201cTo think my minx Demetria should flirt you!\u201d cried Marse Beverly; \u201cfor\nshe marries Avery in the fall. But cheer up, lad, cheer up! there \u2019re\nas good fish yet to catch as ever have been caught.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n ASMODEUS IN THE QUARTERS\n\n\nMammy did not tell this story very often; it was held in reserve as\nan especial reward. Whether it was of African origin, and by one of\nthose strange coincidences bore a resemblance to the classic, or was a\ngarbled negro version of it, is lost in conjecture; but certain it is,\nthat almost within ear-shot of a doting but unknowing mother, many a\nchildish ambition has been fired \u201cter rise wid Satan.\u201d\n\nAnd this is the way Mammy told it to the little night-gowned cherubs\nwhom she wanted to get to sleep:\n\n\u201cShadrach were de very ol\u2019es\u2019 nigger on de place; he \u2019lowed he were er\nhundud an\u2019 fifty, an\u2019 I reckon he were, \u2019case he back were doubled up\ntwel he wa\u2019n\u2019t no tallerer \u2019n Charlie dar; he face were es black an\u2019 es\nwrinkledy es er warnut, he hair were es white es cotton, an\u2019 de long\nwhite beard kim \u2019mos\u2019 ter he knees, dat tu\u2019n in kinder bow-legged when\nhe walk.\n\n\u201cHe so ole he hain\u2019t fitten ter work none, but he hab er little\ncouterin\u2019 roun\u2019 ter do ever\u2019day, lack feedin\u2019 de tuckies, shuckin\u2019\ncorn, er makin\u2019 nets, er sumpen, \u2019case he \u2019Ole Miss\u2019 \u2019low dat Satan sho\ngwine fin\u2019 some debilment fur idle han\u2019s ter do, an\u2019 she plum right.\n\n\u201cShadrach hab plenty er clo\u2019es, plenty ter eat, plenty er \u2019baccy ter\nchaw an\u2019 ter smoke, an\u2019 er good warm cabin; but he ain\u2019 happy yit,\n\u2019case hit \u2019pear lack de debil gib us sumpen ter hone fur, no matter\nwhat we got. Shadrach des wanter know ever\u2019thing dat happin; but he des\nes deef es er pos\u2019, an\u2019 dey hain\u2019t nobody wanter tell him no secrets,\n\u2019case if yo\u2019 gotter holler hit all ober de place, hit no secret ertall;\nso he go erbout putty nigh all de time wid one han\u2019 up ter he year. I\nreckon hit were mighty painful ter \u2019im, but ever\u2019body oughter min\u2019 dey\nown business, specuil if dey cain\u2019t hear good.\n\n\u201cBut hit go mighty hard wid Shadrach, \u2019case he git deefer an\u2019 deefer,\nan\u2019 cuissomer an\u2019 cuissomer; an\u2019 when he do hear \u2019em he git \u2019em so\ncross-eyed \u2019mos\u2019 all de time, \u2019case he hear so bad, dat he git inter\ner heap er trouble, fur dey \u2019low dat Shadrach were er power ter talk.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cUNDER THE TREES IN THE WOOD-LOT\u201d]\n\n\u201cHit er mighty bad thing fur ter git inter de fix dat Shadrach done in,\n\u2019case hit lack gittin\u2019 bofe foots inter tar\u2014while you\u2019s er-pullin\u2019 one\nfoot out, de odder gwine sho sink furder in; dey hain\u2019t nuffin but er\ngood strong pull on de outside dat gwine git yo\u2019 shet uv hit.\n\n\u201cNow yo\u2019 knows, honey, dat dar\u2019s some times er de year dat de debil\nplum loose\u2014done free ter go anywhar er ter do anything, an\u2019 he all de\ntime er-layin\u2019 fur des sech er sof\u2019, mizerbul creetur es Shadrach were.\n\n\u201cShadrach meet him \u2019way off unner de trees in de woods-lot, an\u2019 were\npowerful glad ter see him when he kim; an\u2019 he git outen he skin, an\u2019\nlen\u2019 he body ter de debil ter go erbout in, two er free times, \u2019case\ner lot er de niggers seed Shadrach in some mighty quare places fur er\nChristiun an\u2019 er shouter. But dat wa\u2019n\u2019t pleasurin\u2019 Shadrach \u2019bout\nhearin\u2019 things, fur de debil cain\u2019t gib er man er pa\u2019r er new years,\nan\u2019 he cain\u2019t eben hope him, lessen he gib up he soul. Hit pester\nShadrach mightily, \u2019case he know he cain\u2019t sarve two marsters, an\u2019 he\nmighty feared er de fire down dar; but bimeby, \u2019fore de debil go back,\nhe git so cuis \u2019bout hearin\u2019 an\u2019 knowin\u2019 things dat he done furgit all\nhe larnin\u2019 an\u2019 he \u2019ligion, an\u2019 he bargains wid de debil fur he soul.\nBetter folks an\u2019 whiter folks \u2019n Shadrach done gone an\u2019 done hit, an\u2019\ner-doin\u2019 uv hit yit, \u2019case de debil he kim ter folks in de ways dey\nwants him in dey min\u2019s, but hit hain\u2019t gwine ter pay in de long run;\nhit gwine ter peter out mighty painful.\n\n\u201cWell, ole Shadrach he done sell he soul ter de debil fur good, an\u2019\nhe mighty lively an\u2019 peart erbout hit, an\u2019 dance all unbeknownst\u2014ole\nmizerbul Shadrach dance, an\u2019 he er-lookin\u2019 lack he do!\u2014but hit de\ndebil\u2019s dance, an\u2019 dar hain\u2019t nobody know nuffin \u2019bout hit but er\nhoodoo. Er good hoodoo all de time on de lookout fur de debil, an\u2019 hit\n\u2019pear lack de hoodoo hear de debil gib he promus ter Shadrach, if he\nsell him he soul, dat he take him wid him ever\u2019 night, when he fly ober\nde roofs an\u2019 look down de chimblies, an\u2019 he gwine see ever\u2019thing an\u2019\nhear ever\u2019thing\u2014an\u2019 ole Shadrach des couldn\u2019t keep still fur de joy er\nthinkin\u2019 \u2019bout hit.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cHE DES FOLLER UV \u2019EM EVER\u2019 NIGHT\u201d]\n\n\u201cSho \u2019nough, de debil were es good es he word, an\u2019 de hoodoo fin\u2019 de\nbody er Shadrach in he bed, layin\u2019 lack he sleepin\u2019; but he were des\nes cole es def, fur dar wa\u2019n\u2019t no bref in de body, \u2019case de debil\ndone taken de sperit out, an\u2019 de hoodoo, while he lookin\u2019, hear two\nscreech-owls holler an\u2019 laugh, den flop an\u2019 fly erway. Dey taken de\nowls\u2019 skins, \u2019case owls got de bigges\u2019 eyes an\u2019 de bigges\u2019 years er\nanything dat b\u2019long ter de debil, an\u2019 kin see in de dark. De jackass\ngot de longes\u2019 years uv all uv \u2019em, but de debil hain\u2019t got no holt on\nhim sence de Lord let him talk ter de man dat try ter make him tromp on\ner angil, an\u2019 I reckon dat why de Lord rid on one uv \u2019em inter de New\nJerusalem.\n\n\u201cWell, de hoodoo he see how things were er-gwine when he hear dem owls,\nan\u2019 he hain\u2019t got no call but ter foller uv \u2019em, \u2019case if he let de\ndebil go one single blessed time, he lose dat much uv he power fur\ngood, so he riz an\u2019 foller.\n\n\u201cAt fust, de debil des take Shadrach ober niggerdom in de quarters, an\u2019\noh! how dat littles\u2019 squinchup owl holler an\u2019 laugh when he hear Pomp\nan\u2019 Dinah des er-quoilin\u2019 an\u2019 er-quoilin\u2019 in de cabin, an\u2019 dey bofe\nso mighty sanctified an\u2019 shout so loud on er Sunday; an\u2019 when he see\nLush\u2014dat he Ole Marse trus\u2019 lack he white\u2014des er-stealin\u2019 sugar fum de\npantry, an\u2019 ole Cindy, ernudder sanctified sister, kerhootin\u2019 roun\u2019 in\nde smoke-house widout er light, er-huntin\u2019 fur er ham, he laugh so\nloud dat de odder owl hatter shake \u2019im.\n\n\u201cHit were er lot er fun ter ole Shadrach, an\u2019 he git so full er dem\nthings dat he \u2019mos\u2019 fittin ter bus\u2019 wid hit, \u2019case he cain\u2019t tell\nnobody what he see an\u2019 hear, fur he feared er de debil. He hear all de\nsecrets er de creepin\u2019 things, an\u2019 larn whar de snakes an\u2019 things hides\nin de daytime, an\u2019 es dey riz in de air, de secrets er de things dat\nflies in de dark.\n\n\u201cHe seed folks er-dancin\u2019 an\u2019 er-mournin\u2019, er-laughin\u2019 an\u2019 er-cryin\u2019,\ner-cotin\u2019 an\u2019 er-gamblin\u2019, er-stealin\u2019 an\u2019 er-lyin\u2019, er-sleepin\u2019\nde hones\u2019 sleep er de Christiun, an\u2019 er-groanin\u2019 on dey beds er\nsuff\u2019rin\u2019\u2014de people dat he see an\u2019 know ever\u2019 day\u2014lack dar wa\u2019n\u2019t no\ntops ter de houses, ner walls ter \u2019em nuther. He hear de debil temp\u2019 de\nweak, an\u2019 dey fall, an\u2019 de strong, an\u2019 dey hain\u2019t gib in, an\u2019 de debil\nkim roun\u2019 ter \u2019em ergin de nex\u2019 night; an\u2019 all day long ole Shadrach\ndes er-laughin\u2019 an\u2019 er-chucklin\u2019 an\u2019 er-waitin\u2019 fur night ter come.\n\n\u201cHit go on dat way fur er long time, but de hoodoo don\u2019 say nuffin; he\ndes foller uv \u2019em ever\u2019 night, an\u2019 he putty nigh plum wore out; but he\nknow dat de debil hain\u2019t got much longer ter tarry, so he bide he time,\nfur he gwine fur ter try ter git back ole Shadrach\u2019s soul, \u2019case er\nburnin\u2019, wand\u2019rin\u2019, los\u2019 soul is er mighty hard thing ter steddy on,\nan\u2019 de hoodoo were er \u2019zorter, too.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cHE HEAR MISSAR JONES\u2019S SAMBO FIVE MILE ERWAY\u201d]\n\n\u201cAt de fust, Shadrach were mighty happy an\u2019 mighty \u2019umble ter de debil,\n\u2019case he hear more \u2019n anybody dat got two good years kin hear, an\u2019\nsee ten times es much. But arter while he git manish, an\u2019 sot in ter\ngrumblin\u2019, an\u2019 talk back ter de debil some. He done tired er des seein\u2019\nniggers; he wanter see what de white folks er-doin\u2019.\n\n\u201cDe debil he tell him he better take keer, dat hit hain\u2019t gwine ter be\ngood fur hese\u2019f fur him ter see an\u2019 hear dat, an\u2019 \u2019fuse ter rise dat\nhigh wid him; but Shadrach keep er-teasin\u2019 an\u2019 er-teasin\u2019, twel one\ndark night de debil he borry two pa\u2019r er buzzards\u2019 wings so\u2019s ter fly\nhigh (dat all he kin git, \u2019case de eagle hain\u2019t gwine len\u2019 his\u2019n), an\u2019\ndey riz ober de top er de talles\u2019 house.\n\n\u201cHain\u2019t no tellin\u2019 what Shadrach see dat night, an\u2019 arter dat, dar\nwa\u2019n\u2019t no doin\u2019 nuffin wid him\u2014he des er-gallopin\u2019 ter \u2019struction es\nfas\u2019 es he kin trabble.\n\n\u201cEs ole es Shadrach were, an\u2019 es doubled up, de oberseer hatter lay de\nwhup on him two er free times, an\u2019 hit make de Ole Marster feel mighty\nbad; an\u2019 all de time de debil des er-aggin\u2019 uv hit on, an\u2019 er-showin\u2019\nhim down de white folks\u2019 chimblies ever\u2019 night, \u2019case Shadrach done git\ntoo uppish ter wanter know nuffin \u2019bout niggers.\n\n\u201cBut bimeby he retch de eend uv he rope, an\u2019 he retch hit so powerful\nsuddent dat hit putty nigh fling him outen he senses.\n\n\u201cHe git manisher an\u2019 manisher wid de debil; he done furgit all erbout\nde bargain, an\u2019 who de debil were, an\u2019 \u2019low he hain\u2019t gotter borry no\nwings ner nuffin ter rise wid, if de debil do. Dat he gwine rise wid\nhe own coat-tails\u2014dat any hoodoo kin, an\u2019 he gwine do hit. Po\u2019 fool\nShadrach!\u2014he done furgit he hain\u2019t no hoodoo ner nuffin\u2014nuffin but er\npo\u2019 ole sarvent er de debil, an\u2019 hit all fru he power!\n\n[Illustration: \u201cSHADRACH HE RIZ WID HE OWN COAT-TAILS\u201d]\n\n\u201cBut de debil do he pleasurin\u2019 an\u2019 hain\u2019t say nuffin; so dat night\nwhen dey riz, de debil he borry de buzzard\u2019s wings ergin fur hese\u2019f;\nbut Shadrach he riz wid he own coat-tails, an\u2019 de debil he do mighty\n\u2019umble, an\u2019 make lack Shadrach doin\u2019 all dis here by hese\u2019f. De debil\ngwine let him git mixed an\u2019 tangled up lack er fly in er spider\u2019s web,\nan\u2019 Shadrach he sho boun\u2019 ter do hit; fur dat night he hear things\ndat sot him putty nigh plum crazy, \u2019case he done hear too much at las\u2019;\nan\u2019 de nex\u2019 day de debil hatter leabe de quarters an\u2019 go back inter\nde bad place. He taken Shadrach\u2019s soul wid him, an\u2019 sumpen else dat\noughter b\u2019long ter er good man, \u2019case Shadrach hain\u2019t eben passable no\nmo\u2019.\n\n\u201cArter de debil go \u2019way, Shadrach\u2019s years taken ter growin\u2019, an\u2019\ndey grows long an\u2019 high an\u2019 thin, an\u2019 hit \u2019pear lack Shadrach hear\never\u2019thing at oncet, lack er big roarin\u2019 er waters, so\u2019s he cain\u2019t make\nout nuffin.\n\n\u201cHe cry out, when nobody ain\u2019 hearin\u2019 nuffin, dat he hear Cindy \u2019way\ndown in de cotton-fiel\u2019 er-talkin\u2019 ter herself, an\u2019 he cain\u2019t make\nout what she say. Den he hear Missar Jones\u2019s Sambo, five mile erway,\ner-yellin\u2019 out sumpen, but he cain\u2019t make hit out; an\u2019 he sot in ter\ncryin\u2019 an\u2019 er-moanin\u2019 wid de pain an\u2019 de noises dat \u2019mos\u2019 bustin\u2019 he\nhead opin.\n\n\u201cHe Ole Marse say he plum crazy, \u2019case he so mighty ole; but he Ole\nMiss \u2019low he need quinine; an\u2019 dat quinine des de stuff dat de debil\nwant him ter hab, \u2019case hit kin work mo\u2019 \u2019fusion in one hour \u2019n de\ndebil kin in er whole day, an\u2019 hit hope de debil mightily, es he\ncouldn\u2019 be on de groun\u2019 fur ter make Shadrach mo\u2019 painful hese\u2019f.\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 Shadrach git ter be so painful wid de hearin\u2019 uv ever\u2019thing plum\nmixed up, dat he taken ter w\u2019arin\u2019 big wads er cotton in he years fur\nter shet hit out er de years, dat keeps er-growin\u2019 longer an\u2019 longer,\nnarrerer an\u2019 narrerer; but de cotton cain\u2019t shet hit out, \u2019case half uv\nhit kim fum de inside, an\u2019 was de wakin\u2019 up uv all dat de debil lef\u2019\nShadrach dat b\u2019long ter er good man.\n\n\u201cDe hoodoo he see what were er-ailin\u2019 Shadrach, an\u2019 he mighty sorry fur\nhim; but he cain\u2019t go ter Shadrach; Shadrach gotter kim ter him ter git\nhe soul back, an\u2019 hit hatter be er mighty good hoodoo ter do hit den,\nso de hoodoo he sot an\u2019 wait.\n\n\u201cBimeby Shadrach des couldn\u2019 stan\u2019 hit no longer, an\u2019 he des kim\ner-rinnin\u2019 ter de hoodoo, all doubled up, wid de long white beard des\ner-draggin\u2019 on de groun\u2019, an\u2019 he fingers in he years\u2014dem big years dat\ndes er-settin\u2019 up on bofe sides he head.\n\n\u201c\u2018Pear lack Shadrach sho gwine plum crazy \u2019twixt de mizry an\u2019 de\nnoises, an\u2019 de hoodoo git ter work quick, fur ter pull de debil outen\nShadrach, so\u2019s Shadrach mought git he soul back.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cIN DE SHAPE UV ER BIG JACK-RABBIT\u201d]\n\n\u201cShadrach lay on de flo\u2019 er de cabin, des er-rollin\u2019 an\u2019 er-groanin\u2019.\nDey done pour hot lard an\u2019 er whole bottle er laud\u2019num in he years\nwidout doin\u2019 any good, an\u2019 de hoodoo try ter fling de debil out in de\nname er de jackass, de el\u2019phunt, de owl\u2014ever\u2019thing dat he kin think uv\ndat got big years; but de debil hain\u2019t come outen him yit.\n\n\u201cDen de hoodoo taken him inter de woods an\u2019 call de name uv er\nlong-yeared houn\u2019 dat passin\u2019 by, but hit hain\u2019t dat.\n\n\u201cDe hoodoo workin\u2019 mighty hard, an\u2019 he stop an\u2019 steddy erwhile, an\u2019 den\nhe lead Shadrach, wid de thorns des er-t\u2019arin\u2019 uv he beard an\u2019 he knees\nan\u2019 he han\u2019s, ober inter er thicket er blackberry-bushes, ter gib de\ndebil er good chance ter kim out, \u2019case he sho arter him.\n\n\u201cHe make de passes wid he han\u2019s, an\u2019 say de charm, an\u2019 wait erwhile. De\ndebil he see he chances done plum gone, an\u2019 he hatter gib up de soul,\n\u2019case de hoodoo got him in er corner, an\u2019 when he see dat, he des kim\ner-lopin\u2019 outen Shadrach inter de blackberry-bushes, in de shape uv er\nbig jack-rabbit wid great long years.\n\n\u201cDey say dat ole Shadrach lib ter be er hundud an\u2019 fifty year ol\u2019er \u2019n\nhe were, stone-blin\u2019 an\u2019 \u2019mos\u2019 stone-deef; but he go \u2019bout powerful\nhappy twel he die, an\u2019 hain\u2019t nebber git cuissome \u2019bout hearin\u2019 things\nno mo\u2019, \u2019case he done heared ernough ter las\u2019 him.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n THE TAMING OF JEZRUL\n\n\nIt was a nine days\u2019 wonder that Jezrul had ever taken a fancy to\nLemuel\u2019s Crecy, for Jezrul was Colonel Greene\u2019s butler, as pompous, if\nnot so rotund, as the Colonel himself, and Lemuel\u2019s Crecy, as every one\nknew, had never done anything but pick cotton in her life.\n\nBut the fancy grew, and so did the stories, when Jezrul asked that she\nmight be brought from the field and taken on trial as a house-maid.\nWhen Madame demurred, Jezrul promised to assist in the training\nhimself, and he begged so hard that Madame finally agreed, first\nstipulating, however, that Crecy should learn to wear shoes; and this\nwas how Jezrul\u2019s trouble began, for Crecy could not be fired with\nambition even by the most ardent lover, and did not even appreciate\nthe honor conferred. Moreover, it was impossible to keep the shoes on\nher feet, though Jezrul tied them hard and fast every morning, with a\nwarning; but they turned up mysteriously in every corner of the house,\nonce even\u2014oh! the horror of the thing!\u2014behind the door in Madame\u2019s\ndrawing-room, and were discovered just in time to save Jezrul from\noverwhelming mortification.\n\nIn view of his contract with Ole Miss, Jezrul groaned helplessly\nin secret, as Crecy plodded plantigrade about the house, slipping\nnervously into the little black prisons and opening her mouth wide\nwhenever she was called; but he was loving Crecy, and even these\nthorns, as sharp as they were, were blunted by love\u2019s power.\n\nThe hardest trial came about through the conventionalities of high life\nin the Quarters, for Jezrul was a born gallant, and used to the making\nof pretty compliments, copied studiously from the \u201cBig House,\u201d but\nwhich \u201clanguage of the court\u201d was as Greek to Crecy\u2019s ears.\n\nThen there had been a little feeling when Madame had given a great ball\nand Crecy had been ignominiously set aside as too awkward and ungainly\nto serve upon the occasion, though that pain had been soothed by the\npolicy of Jezrul, and the culmination came at the time of the Christmas\n\u201cbreak-down.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201cOH! THE HORROR OF THE THING\u201d]\n\nOle Marse had just been to New Orleans, and as a Christmas gift to the\nMadame had brought Susanne, whose \u201cCagion\u201d French and cunningly arched\nhead-handkerchief bow had proved too much for Jezrul\u2019s peace of mind,\nfor he was an ardent believer in feminine accomplishments. And how she\ncould dance! Her very feet seemed to be made of a different material\nfrom those of the others. Louisiana was giving Mississippi points, and,\nalas! the star of Mississippi was on the wane.\n\nIn her humble blue cotton gown, at first Crecy was awed and dazzled\nby the unfamiliar gorgeousness of the new-comer, with her flashing\neyes and sallies of wit, until she saw the all-devouring gaze of\nJezrul; then the reality fell like a leaden weight, and the fires of\njealousy burned briskly, fanned, too, it is to be feared, by meddlesome\nobservers, for in all of the gayeties Jezrul had not even seemed to\nsee her. At first she sat apart, aimless and listless, watching the\npair through half-closed eyes; it was a new experience, and thought\ntravelled slowly. Then she threw herself wildly into the dance.\n\n\u201cI lay I l\u2019arn him ter go kerhootin\u2019 arter er strange gal!\u201d\n\nFaster and faster flew her feet; now she curtsied, now coquetted\nwith a shuffling would-be partner, always keeping within the circle,\nbut always dancing alone, with her eyes fixed upon the object of her\njealousy.\n\n\u201cGo it, Crecy!\u201d shouted the fiddler, and the music and patting grew\nlouder and faster\u2014\u201cPea-patch Ladies,\u201d \u201cChicken in the Bread-Tray,\u201d\n\u201cBuzzard Lope,\u201d and a score of others; then a medley of wild,\nhalf-savage fiddling and chanting followed, and the dancers were tiring\nout; but still Crecy whirled, her body swaying almost to the floor as\nshe spread the folds of her swelling skirts. She was dancing to the\npair, but Susanne and Jezrul were oblivious. Susanne was teaching him\na shuffle that he had never seen before, and he was beating time for\nher, independent of the chanters. There was a strange light in Crecy\u2019s\neyes, and then Lemuel tried to drag his daughter from the floor, for\nthe fiddler had stopped to rest, and the singers had quit from sheer\nexhaustion. But with a high, resonant note she struck into a wilder\nchant alone, wheeling and veering like a wounded bird.\n\n\u201cLook!\u201d came the awe-struck whisper.\n\nStill swaying and singing, every movement consorting with the rhythm of\nthe chant, she bared her shapely body to the waist, whirling now above\nher head and now about her knees a cluster of rude castanets swung by a\nleather thong.\n\nAt each revolution, accompanied by a high note in the wail, the rough\nedges of the shells cut sharply into the steaming flesh.\n\nThe space was clear; every dancer had given way: they had been\ndancing for a jubilee, but this dance was another thing. The spell\nwas irresistible; one by one the hoodoos who had been hanging on the\noutskirts moved forward, first with a vibrating finger, then with a\nwaving arm, like the great claw of a sand-fiddler signalling from his\nhole, and then the entire figures, rags and all, reeled with the horrid\nsong.\n\nOnly the hoodoos joined in it; the rest were dumb; and at last even\nJezrul and Susanne were conscious of the mysterious thing, and Jezrul\ntouched the charm he wore around his neck, and Susanne laughed softly\nand nervously.\n\nOut and in, the figures of the hoodoos turned, weaving a cabalistic\nsign with that of Crecy, from whose breast and shoulders the blood was\nfast trickling.\n\nThe chant and dance, if such it could be called, continued for nearly\nthree-quarters of an hour, when suddenly the girl raised both arms,\nwith a yell like that of a crazed animal, and fell upon her clattering\ncastanets; and the hoodoos carried her out, for Lemuel was afraid to\ntouch her.\n\n * * * * *\n\nA red glow lighted the cabin faintly. Goobers and sweet-potatoes were\nroasting on the hearth, but Crecy let them burn.\n\nMumbling and moaning, she was busying herself with rags and sticks and\nthread, for out of her rude material she was fashioning a man.\n\n\u201cI gwine tame him\u2014I gwine tame Jezrul! He gwine feel de toof er de big\ngreen sarpint. He gwine be hot in de mouf an\u2019 cole in de belly. I lay I\ngwine l\u2019arn him!\u201d\n\nSlowly the work grew under the clumsy, eager fingers, and the sunbeams\nwere shining through the chinks before she hid the little image of\nJezrul in a crevice by the chimney.\n\n * * * * *\n\n[Illustration: \u201c\u2018BURN! BURN!\u2019\u201d]\n\nAll that day Crecy moped alone in the cabin; she had been dismissed\nfrom the \u201cBig House\u201d for nodding over her work, and Jezrul had not even\ninterceded; but there was some comfort in it all, for she was freed\nfrom the humiliating comment of the house negroes and the despised\nshoes had been left behind, though the loneliness was oppressive, for\nthe Christmas festivities were at their height. Still keeping her fast,\nfor she had eaten nothing since the day before, she stirred the coals\nupon the hearth, whipping her wrath into a frenzy; and as she heard\nthe voice of Susanne in the quarters and Jezrul\u2019s laugh that followed,\nshe thrust the image through with a toasting-fork and held it over the\nflame.\n\n\u201cBurn! burn!\u201d she hissed. \u201cBurn wid de fires dat\u2019s er-eatin\u2019 out dese\nin\u2019ards,\u2014\u2019case I gwine ter tame you, Jezrul! Burn, I say!\u201d And putting\nout the blaze that started, she held the thing over the coals again.\n\u201cHit \u2019ll retch yo\u2019 heart, an\u2019 sizzle hit lack de fires er de debil,\n\u2019case you gwine ter be mine, Jezrul!\u201d\n\nDay after day Crecy tortured the little image, now sticking it full of\npins, now scorching it again, but always taking the precaution not to\nutterly destroy it\u2014\u201c\u2019case he cain\u2019t die\u2014\u2019case he\u2019s mine,\u201d she muttered.\n\nThough night after night the festivities went on, Susanne coquetted and\nJezrul laughed, and Crecy was forgotten.\n\nBut New-Year\u2019s Day had filled the quarters with sensation, and dozens\nof ears were tingling with the news.\n\nOld Marse had been giving a stag dinner to the judge of the circuit\nand the attorney-general. They had been sitting at table for nearly\nthree hours, and Jezrul, who adored such great personages, was in his\nglory; but just as he was bringing in the cigars and liqueurs with his\nusual flourish upon such occasions, he fell in a fit at Old Marse\u2019s\nfeet. Such a thing as a ripple in the course of one of Old Marse\u2019s\ndinner-parties had never occurred before; the Colonel was beside\nhimself, for he was helpless without Jezrul.\n\nJezrul was a long time in coming round, and in the confusion Susanne\nthrew her apron over her head and went into hysterics, as the knowing\nones whispered; while down in her cabin alone, with the little image\nstuck full of pins and pressed close against her breast, Crecy gave a\nfiendish yell, for she believed that the spell she had set, was working\nat last. With ghoulish delight she tortured the miserable doll; and\nday after day, fearful and livid with superstition, but still unwilling\nto give up Susanne, Jezrul fell to the floor under the strange\ndelusion; and at last, too ill even to creep up to the house, he begged\nso piteously for the curse to be removed, that the Colonel thought that\nhe was wandering in a fever, and alternately bled him to remove the\nengorgement and stimulated to remedy the depletion, until he dragged\nabout, dodging and starting at the casting of his own shadow.\n\n * * * * *\n\nSusanne was comforting in these dark days, and he could not give her\nup, for her long slender hands were as ready as her nimble feet; and\nthe wiseacres said that Susanne would marry Jezrul if he ever got well,\nwhich now seemed very unlikely. But a pair of great wide eyes were\nwatching the ministrations furtively and jealously, and another little\nimage, a smaller one in petticoats, appeared in the cabin.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was plenty of gossip in the Quarters, beside the blazing pine\nknots, over the sweet-potatoes and chestnuts roasting in the ashes,\nfor though the fits were coming upon Jezrul harder than ever, he had\nsuddenly refused to let Susanne even come near him, and Maumer Belle\ntouched her cunger knowingly, and said that she had seen Jezrul turn\naway from Susanne in positive loathing, for all that he had loved\nher so; and Susanne, in mortification, finding no sympathy among the\nnegroes, had gone to the Madame, but Ole Miss calmly told Susanne that\nJezrul was crazy\u2014\u201cas crazy as a loon,\u201d said Ole Miss.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\u201cDat\u2019s nuffin,\u201d said Unc Ephraim, throwing his blazing cob into the\nfire and adjusting another. \u201cDat\u2019s on\u2019y what we gotter \u2019spec\u2019, \u2019case\nhit\u2019s de dark er de moon now, an\u2019 hit\u2019s nuffin but er hoodoo dat ail\nJezrul, an\u2019 Crecy she sho at de bottom uv hit all. Maumer Belle, yo\u2019\nknows yo\u2019 tole Lemuel dat Crecy gwine ter be er hoodoo, \u2019fore she were\nfree day ole.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201cAN\u2019 CRECY WERE WID \u2019EM\u201d]\n\n\u201cUm, um,\u201d grunted Maumer. \u201cAn\u2019 las\u2019 night my Sam he rid fru de\nparster, er-sarchin\u2019 fur de muel colt dat git out somers, an\u2019 he say\ndat de hoodoos was er-dancin\u2019 ergin in de big ditch; an\u2019 sech er dance!\nan\u2019 Crecy were wid \u2019em. Crecy was er-swingin\u2019 dem shells ergin, an\u2019,\nSam say, were er-scatterin\u2019 ashes ober her head, too, an\u2019 putty nigh\nstart naked, lack she were de odder night, an\u2019 I sho dun\u2019no\u2019 what Lem\nmean fur ter let dat gal take on so; but yo\u2019 min\u2019 my words, \u2019case I\nknows what I\u2019s er-tellin\u2019 yo\u2019, dat mean dat Jezrul gwine ter take Crecy\nback \u2019fore he git outen dis. Hain\u2019t no common yarb truck ner teas gwine\nter do Jezrul any good, \u2019case Crecy sho tamin\u2019 uv him.\u201d\n\nThere was a thoughtful silence and a steady gazing into the fire, when\na hoarse scream brought the gossipers to their feet.\n\n\u201cDat\u2019s Jezrul,\u201d whispered Maumer Belle, \u201can\u2019 his voice soun\u2019 sorter\nnat\u2019rul.\u201d\n\nThe night was very dark, and the sick man had fallen in front of his\ncabin, but by the uncertain flare of the hastily lighted torches the\nwatchers could see Crecy down upon her knees beside him, and the\nwillowy form of Susanne scurrying away into the shadow.\n\n\u201cTake hit off! take hit off!\u201d he moaned. \u201cI\u2019s er dyin\u2019 man, but I lubs\non\u2019y you, Crecy!\u201d\n\nThe teeth of the girl glistened in the torchlight.\n\n\u201cFur good?\u201d\n\n\u201cFur good.\u201d It was only a whisper, but it was an earnest, solemn truth.\n\nHer right arm was around his neck, but her left hand was pressing into\nhis the little images of Susanne and himself.\n\n\u201cCome inter de cabin an\u2019 burn \u2019em wid you\u2019 own han\u2019, honey, \u2019case dat\n\u2019ll make yo\u2019 well!\u201d Crecy rose and led the way, and Jezrul meekly\nfollowed, for Jezrul was \u201ctamed.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n DARK ER DE MOON\n\n\nAbijah was a hoodoo; moreover, he had the reputation, over a wide\nstretch of territory, of having the evil or Judas eye, as it was called\namong the negroes, which gave him a power over them all the year round,\nwhich was only claimed by the first exhorter during \u201cBig Meetin\u2019.\u201d\n\nNo journey was ever undertaken, no new work begun, in fact, nothing of\nimportance was ever planned by the negroes without first consulting\nUncle \u2019Jah, who spoke as an oracle.\n\nHis fame extended even to the poor whites of the section who had never\nowned a slave, and many were the potions for healing and philters\nfor unrequited love, that passed from Uncle \u2019Jah\u2019s hands for a small\nconsideration.\n\nUncle \u2019Jah also told the stars, and blended the inherited African rites\nmost unreservedly with the Indian traditions and his idea of the white\nman\u2019s religious ceremonials.\n\nOf course there were other hoodoos on the place, for what plantation\nhad them not? but they were all lesser lights whose radiance paled\nbefore the effulgence of the leading spirit.\n\nUncle \u2019Jah added to his dignities and honors the fact of having been\nborn free. The story ran, that his mother was a princess in her own\ncountry, having been stolen by traders at an early age, and in the home\nof her adoption her faithfulness and tender care won the sympathy of\nher invalid mistress, who was pleased to give her freedom as a reward.\n\nShe had never left the plantation, for a humble romance followed, and\nthe free woman became the wife of a slave.\n\nBy \u201cOle Miss\u2019s\u201d will in the olden time her children were to be free\nfrom their birth, and Abijah, the seventh son of the seventh son,\nthough living, as his father had done, on the plantation, was free to\ncome and go, and received wages for his labor when he chose to work.\n\nBut Abijah was gathered to his fathers long ago, and many were the\nlamentations when he passed away. As the passing of a dusky Mohammed,\nmarvels were expected, and great were the wonders and happenings on his\nburial night, for, like his aforesaid predecessor, he planned his own\nfuneral, and he decreed that the burial should occur at night.\n\nIt was said that everything had come to him in the dark of the moon; it\nwas dark when he was born, and dark when he died; so they buried him\nin the midst of the tall bracken, whose swaying plumes cast weird and\ngrotesque shadows by the light of the flickering pine torches.\n\nThe exhorters were holding their services at the meeting-ground, and\nwould not officiate, as they deemed the burial unholy; but the mass\nof negroes, who knew the work of Abijah, were afraid that his ghost\nwould walk, and attended for the laying of his spirit; and all but the\ntorch-bearers prostrated themselves low upon the ground, while the\nhoodoos waved their arms, as the coffin was lowered, and forbade the\nspirit\u2019s return to earthly habitations; then bitter herbs and Abijah\u2019s\ndrinking-cup were thrown in before the grave was filled.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs has been said, the passing of Abijah happened many years ago, and\nnow in the third and fourth generations his fame had grown even to\nthat of a dusky god.\n\nSo there were not wanting those who, through the mists of time and\nforgetfulness, attributed to him supernatural powers, a fearless\nhandling of the forces of good and evil, even a personal exorcism of\nthe devil\u2014that old-fashioned devil who donned such familiar forms upon\noccasion.\n\nOf course such a devil is entirely out of date, but in that long ago\nthere was a certain little maid to whom these devil stories, forbidden\nfruit though they were, gave the most unalloyed delight.\n\nThey were told at night when the trundle-bed was rolled out and the\nlittle toes were toasting by the fire, and sometimes even, it is to\nbe feared, the \u201cNow I lay me\u201d was rather hastily said, that the story\nmight be resumed; later, perhaps, an anxious mother wondered why the\nlittle one tossed so restlessly, but every genuine child has been duly\n\u201cscared to death once upon a time,\u201d and so had the little maid.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThrough the tangles of the past a picture rises, though the\nScheherazade of the nursery has passed away, the voice comes no more\nto the childish ears, for the little maid too is gone; perhaps the\nstories are half forgotten, but a word, a thought, stirs the pulse of\nmemory.\n\n\u201cTell a devil tale, Ellen.\u201d\n\n\u201cNaw, I hain\u2019t gwine tell you \u2019n\u2019 Charlie no mo\u2019 devil tales.\u201d\n\n\u201cPlease, Ellen, we\u2019ll go to sleep in two minutes if you will.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell about Uncle \u2019Jah, the devil, and the dark of the moon.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hain\u2019t gwine tell hit\u2014Miss \u2019Tishy say you git skeered an\u2019 don\u2019 go\nter sleep, an\u2019 I hain\u2019t gwine tell \u2019em ter yo\u2019 no mo\u2019.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, Ellen, yes, we will; they don\u2019t scare us. We\u2019ll get right in bed\nand listen, and by the time you are through we\u2019ll be asleep. Mamma\nwon\u2019t care.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut she do keer; she say you mustn\u2019t heah \u2019em no mo\u2019. Dey gibs her de\nhorrors.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo on, Ellen. She was just afraid that we\u2019d be scared in the night,\nbut we are too big for that now. Go on about the devil and Uncle \u2019Jah.\u201d\n\n\u201cMiss \u2019Tishy be mighty mad!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut we won\u2019t tell her. Her mammy used to tell her those tales when she\nwas little; she said so.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 yo\u2019 won\u2019t tell yo\u2019 maw?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, we won\u2019t tell her.\u201d\n\n\u201cYo\u2019 sho\u2019 yo\u2019 won\u2019t tell?\u201d\n\n\u201cCross my heart and body, we won\u2019t, Ellen!\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\n\u201cWell, one time dey hab er powerful Big Meetin\u2019 on de place whar Unc\u2019\n\u2019Jah lib, an\u2019 dar was er mighty prophesyin\u2019 an\u2019 \u2019zortin\u2019 \u2019count er hit.\n\n\u201cDey was er-prophesyin\u2019 \u2019bout dis an\u2019 prophesyin\u2019 \u2019bout dat, but dar\nwa\u2019n\u2019t many sinners got up twel er stranger kim up an\u2019 sot inter\nprophesyin\u2019, an\u2019 den sech er gittin\u2019 erbout yo\u2019 nebber did see; dar\nwa\u2019n\u2019t \u2019nough benches fur de mo\u2019ners, an\u2019 dey des laid down in de straw.\n\n\u201cSome uv \u2019em \u2019low de stars gwine fall ergin; an\u2019 some uv \u2019em \u2019low de\nstars hain\u2019t gwine fall, but de pest\u2019_lence_ er kimmin\u2019; an\u2019 some \u2019low\nde pest\u2019_lence_ ain\u2019 kimmin\u2019, but dey gwine hab er rain er sarpents;\nbut de stranger he \u2019zort an\u2019 prophesy louder an\u2019 longer, an\u2019 he \u2019low\ndat arter de Big Meetin\u2019, de debil gwine be loose on de place an\u2019 gwine\ntake de form uv er sarpent, er tarrypin, er man, an\u2019 er fly, an\u2019 he\ngwine pester mightily de chillen er de promus; but de sarpent dey kin\nshoot, de tarrypin dey kin kill, an\u2019 de man dey kin see, but hit gwine\nter be mighty hard ter ketch up wid de fly, specuil in fly-time, \u2019case\nde debil choose de innercentest house-fly he kin fin\u2019.\n\n\u201cBut de stranger say de debil do de mos\u2019 tore-down things es er fly,\n\u2019case he kin go ever\u2019whar, an\u2019 walk on de ceiling top side down des\ner-seein\u2019 things dat\u2019s hid, an\u2019 he kin git erroun\u2019 faster \u2019n de man,\nan\u2019 fas\u2019 ergin es de sarpent, an\u2019 er hundred times es fas\u2019 es de\ntarrypin. He taken de tarrypin so\u2019s ter git de \u2019scusin\u2019 er movin\u2019 slow.\nWell, Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he don\u2019 pay no \u2019tention ter de prophesyin\u2019 an\u2019 de\nchurchin\u2019, \u2019case he do he own prophesyin\u2019 an\u2019 workin\u2019, so he des lay\nlow an\u2019 keep still.\n\n\u201c\u2018Bout dat time Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah\u2019s boy Rube he go co\u2019tin\u2019 de putties\u2019 nigger\ngal dat ebber were borned; but she were unner conviction at de Big\nMeetin\u2019, an\u2019 don\u2019 \u2019pear ter take no notice er Rube, but she like him\npowerful, unbeknownst.\n\n\u201cOh, but she were putty! an\u2019 she were er house-nigger, an\u2019 w\u2019ar finer\nclose dan t\u2019others, an\u2019 sot an\u2019 sew right by her Ole Miss.\n\n\u201cWell, Rube he savin\u2019 uv he wedges, an\u2019 he think he ax Ole Marse mought\nhe buy her, arter dey marries, fur hit \u2019pear lack dey gwine ter marry\narter de Big Meetin\u2019, \u2019case Rube he were mighty lack he Mammy, an\u2019 all\nde gals was plum sot on him. Well, Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah don\u2019 \u2019pear ter take no\nnotice, \u2019case he were er-workin\u2019 on he Mammy, who were mighty po\u2019ly,\ndes er-draggin\u2019 one foot an\u2019 totin\u2019 t\u2019other, twel sumpen \u2019pear ter\nhappen ter Rube\u2019s gal, an\u2019 den Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he \u2019pear ter des wake up.\n\n\u201cHit happin dis way: \u2019Bout de time de Big Meetin\u2019 ober dar kim er\nstranger in de Quarters dat taken er powerful shine ter de gal, an\u2019 he\nallus kim in de night, an\u2019 walk an\u2019 talk wid de gal er little erway fum\nt\u2019others.\n\n\u201cWell, dat gal she show him her putty teef, an\u2019 laugh an\u2019 jeck her\nputty head erbout, but she thinkin\u2019 \u2019bout Rube.\n\n\u201cDen he fotch some big gole year-rings an\u2019 er brooch\u2014powerful fine fur\ner nigger, \u2019case dey mos\u2019 es fine es her Ole Miss wear ever\u2019 day; an\u2019\ndat nigger w\u2019ar broadclof lack er gemmen; an\u2019 Rube he were powerful low\nin he min\u2019, \u2019case de stranger talk mighty putty, an\u2019 he \u2019low dat \u2019omens\nlub putty talkin\u2019; but dat stranger ain\u2019 say whar he fum, an\u2019 he ain\u2019t\ncall he name ter any er de niggers, not eben ter de gal.\n\n[Illustration: \u201c\u2018I GWINE WARM YO\u2019 BIMEBY\u2019\u201d]\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 sing! Lord, how dat stray nigger sing, an\u2019 pick de banjo, an\u2019\nmek de fiddle fa\u2019rly dance! Eben de \u2019zorters, hearin\u2019 uv hit \u2019way off,\ncouldn\u2019 keep dey foots fum shufflin\u2019 an\u2019 dey han\u2019s fum pattin\u2019 when\ndey hears dat nigger play de fiddle. But es fine es he were, wid he\nmustache an\u2019 de b\u2019ar\u2019s grease on he hair, he allus wanter set down; an\u2019\nUnc\u2019 \u2019Jah, \u2019case Rube were so po\u2019ly, he pull he eye, lack er lizard,\ndown on him, an\u2019 he see dat he got sumpen de matter wid de right foot,\nan\u2019 he try ter hide hit all he kin.\n\n\u201cBut Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah don\u2019 say nuffin; he des er-workin\u2019. An\u2019 de stray nigger\nhe promus de gal fine close an\u2019 fine house lack her Ole Miss got; an\u2019\nde gal she show him her teef ergin, but she still er-thinkin\u2019 \u2019bout\nRube.\n\n\u201cDen de stranger he chink de gole money in he pocket an\u2019 show hit ter\nde gal; she \u2019ain\u2019t nebber see er nigger tote gole money erfore, an\u2019 she\nop\u2019n \u2019er eyes wide, an\u2019 ain\u2019 think \u2019bout Rube no more.\n\n\u201cDat Rube he were er cuissome nigger, an\u2019 he git ter be mighty painful,\nan\u2019 he ain\u2019 wanter eat \u2019count er de gal, an\u2019 ain\u2019 look at t\u2019others des\ner-rinnin\u2019 arter him; an\u2019 Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he ain\u2019 say nuffin, but he sot er\ncharm fur de gal dat done promus ter marry de stray nigger an\u2019 shakes\nher big gole hoops in de face er Rube. Dat gal mout er-knowed de stray\nnigger \u2019ain\u2019 git \u2019em hones\u2019.\n\n\u201cDen he gib her er ring wid two hearts on hit dat ud come in two,\nperzackly lack white folks, an\u2019 dat rin Rube putty nigh crazy, \u2019case he\ndone gib her he gran\u2019maw\u2019s gole ring; an\u2019 de gal gib out dat she gwine\nmarry de stranger, an\u2019 er-gwine ter er far country. Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah were\nmighty pestered, an\u2019 he casts erbout; den he ups an\u2019 ax de gal fur er\nlock uv her hair ter \u2019member her by.\n\n\u201cHit please de gal powerful, \u2019case she were mighty uppish\u2014uppish lack\nwhite folks\u2014an\u2019 she gib hit ter \u2019im; an\u2019 Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah chuckle powerful,\n\u2019case he got all he want fur ter mek he charm work.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cDEY RETCH AN\u2019 STRETCH TODES ONE NUTHER\u201d]\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 dat night when de gal was er-walkin\u2019 wid de stranger in de\nmoonlight, she see sumpen dat skeer her mos\u2019 ter def; but she \u2019feared\nter holler; fur de stranger he taken he hat off fur ter cool he head,\ndes er-talkin\u2019 sweet\u2019s sugar all de time; an\u2019 dat gal, sho\u2019s you born,\nsee two little horns des er-growin\u2019 in de moonlight, er-sproutin\u2019 outer\nhe forud; an\u2019 she skeered so she look down, an\u2019, my Lord! she see de\nlame foot des nuffin but er hoof! Den dat gal she know she done gib\nher promus ter marry wid de debil, \u2019case Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah\u2019s charm hit taken\nde scales fum her eyes; an\u2019 she think \u2019bout Rube ergin, an\u2019 she shuck\nan\u2019 shuck, an\u2019 tell de debil she cole; but he laugh, an\u2019 show he teef,\nan\u2019 \u2019low, \u2019You\u2019s done mine now; I gwine warm yo\u2019 bimeby.\u2019 An\u2019 she sweat\ncole, and \u2019low she gwine gib back de ring an\u2019 de gole year-rings, an\u2019\nde promus; dat she ain\u2019 lub nobody but Rube; but hit de debil, an\u2019 he\nain\u2019 let her go, an\u2019 he say she gotter marry him; but she say she ain\u2019,\ndat she hate him.\n\n\u201cUnc\u2019 \u2019Jah workin\u2019 yit, an\u2019 bimeby de stranger ain\u2019 kim ter see de gal\nno mo\u2019; but er tarrypin foller her, an\u2019 stay by her when she work, an\u2019\nlisten when she talk, an\u2019 hit \u2019ten\u2019 ter be ersleep; but when she ain\u2019\nlook at hit, hit snap at her toes wid hits ugly mouf, an\u2019 she cain\u2019t\ndribe hit off. An\u2019 bimeby she shivers, den taken hit up in her lap,\n\u2019case hit de debil an\u2019 he mek her do hit; an\u2019 dat tarrypin hit bite de\nblood outen her arm, \u2019case she b\u2019long ter him an\u2019 he got her promus;\nan\u2019 she were so po\u2019ly dat she gitten right scrawny.\n\n\u201cDen Rube ain\u2019 know what ter do, \u2019case de gal cry, an\u2019 he taken he axe\nan\u2019 cut de tarrypin\u2019s head off, while de gal hold hit ter keep hit fum\ndrawin\u2019 back; but he wa\u2019n\u2019t no hoodoo lack he daddy\u2014he des er common\nnigger\u2014an\u2019 he mek er miss an\u2019 cut de gal\u2019s thumb off wid hit.\n\n\u201cBut de cut neck er de head an\u2019 de cut neck er de body dey retch an\u2019\nstretch todes one nuther, an\u2019 retch an\u2019 stretch twel dey tech, an\u2019 den\ndey des jines right erfore dey eyes, an\u2019 dat ole tarrypin he lif\u2019 he\nhead an\u2019 blink dem ole eyes at bofe uv \u2019em. Hit go on dat way twel de\ngal \u2019mos\u2019 cry her eyes out ter git shet er de tarrypin, when Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah\nhe kim erlong swingin\u2019 he axe keerless lack, an\u2019 he hear de commotion\nlack he nebber hear hit erfore, an\u2019 taken sumpen lack grease outen er\nbox in he pocket, an\u2019 smear hit on de sharp aige, an\u2019 blip! down he kim\non de tarrypin\u2019s neck, an\u2019 de head an\u2019 de body part, don\u2019t jine no mo\u2019.\n\n\u201cWell, dat gal done git shet er de tarrypin, an\u2019 dough she mighty po\u2019\nan\u2019 sickly lookin\u2019, lack she hab de swamp-fever, she say she gwine\nmarry Rube soon; but Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he know what were kimmin\u2019, an\u2019 she ain\u2019\ngwine marry Rube yit.\n\n\u201cDat gal git ter be so po\u2019 an\u2019 droopy dat her Ole Miss \u2019low she let her\nwork in de fiel\u2019, dat de fresh air gwine do her good.\n\n\u201cSo she sot inter choppin\u2019 out cotton, \u2019case hit de spring er de year,\nbut she sorter skeered dat de tarrypin kim back.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cUNC\u2019 \u2019JAH AND THE DEVIL SNAKE\u201d]\n\n\u201cHe ain\u2019 gwine kim back, but one day in de row she feel sumpen ticklin\u2019\nuv her bare foot mighty sof\u2019, an\u2019 she look an\u2019 see hit were er long\nwigglin\u2019 sarpent, an\u2019 hit w\u2019ar de face er de stray nigger she done\npromus ter marry, an\u2019 hit smile an\u2019 smile at dat gal in de row, an\u2019 hit\nfoller her down de row an\u2019 back ergin, an\u2019 when she ain\u2019 look at hit,\nhit bite her foots an\u2019 strike wid hits fangs, \u2019case hit gwine ter be\nnoticed. Ever\u2019 day hit meet her in de row, an\u2019 ever\u2019 day hit bite her,\ndrawin\u2019 de blood, an\u2019 bimeby hit say it cole, an\u2019 she hatter take it up\nin her arms ter warm hit, \u2019case hit de debil an\u2019 he done git de promus.\n\n\u201cWell, dar ain\u2019 nobody kin kill dat snake wid er stick, an\u2019 dar ain\u2019\nnobody dat kin shoot hit wid er gun, \u2019case dey done try, an\u2019 all de\ntime dat sarpent des er-thinnin\u2019 dat gal\u2019s blood lack er man-eatin\u2019\nbat, when here kim Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah down in de fiel\u2019, an\u2019 he taken de gun fum\nhe shoulder an\u2019 wipe de sweat offen him, \u2019case hit were hot. Den he\nkinder keerless lack \u2019n\u2019int de bullets wid de sumpen dat he \u2019n\u2019int de\naxe wid, an\u2019 load up. Den he say sumpen ter hese\u2019f an\u2019 p\u2019int de gun at\ndat streaked snake, an\u2019 he were sho\u2019 dead dat time.\n\n\u201cDat gal she fall down and hug Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah\u2019s knees; but de debil he\nwa\u2019n\u2019t fru wid de gal yit; he ain\u2019 wanter let her git erway fum him.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\u201cHit were summer-time good now, an\u2019 de gnats dey pesterin\u2019 de hosses\nan\u2019 de cattle, an\u2019 hit were fly-time \u2019mongst de people.\n\n\u201cWell, hit were de debil\u2019s chance ergin, fur de gal say she ain\u2019 marry\nde man, an\u2019 de sarpent an\u2019 de tarrypin bofe dead.\n\n\u201cWell, de debil he gwine mek dat gal see sights, fur he sot an\u2019 think\nan\u2019 think; den he finds out de innercentest house-fly dat ebber was\nhatched, an\u2019 put hit in he pocket, an\u2019 day arter day he trainin\u2019 dat\nfly; den on de dark er de moon he set facin\u2019 er de fly, an\u2019 mek hese\u2019f\nmighty small an\u2019 git inter de fly, an\u2019 fly up ter whar dat gal was\ner-settin\u2019, an\u2019 buzz an\u2019 buzz.\n\n\u201cHe light on her han\u2019, an\u2019 she bresh him off; he light on her year, an\u2019\nshe mek dem gole year-rings ring; an\u2019 he tickle her nose, an\u2019 stick he\ncole clammy foots on her chin lack \u2019twere gwine ter rain; den he lit on\nher mouf an\u2019 rin her putty nigh plum crazy.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cUNC\u2019 \u2019JAH AIN\u2019T TALKIN\u2019\u201d]\n\n\u201cWhen her an\u2019 Rube was co\u2019tin\u2019 \u2019unbeknownst, he buzz an\u2019 buzz, an\u2019\nfly ertwixt \u2019em an\u2019 listen ter all dey say, an\u2019 he hears \u2019em say when\ndey gwine marry, an\u2019 he buzz so hard he mos\u2019 skeer hese\u2019f.\n\n\u201cDen when de gal go ter bed he draw de blood \u2019mos\u2019 es bad es de\nsarpent, an\u2019 pester her so she hatter kiver up her head wid er quilt,\ndough hit were so mighty hot. Bimeby hit \u2019pear lack dat gal she know\nhit were de debil, an\u2019 she git ashy an\u2019 ashy, an\u2019 dat fly pester her\nso dat de folks say she gone crazy erbout er little house-fly; but dat\nRube hain\u2019t gib her up, an\u2019 de debil hain\u2019t nuther.\n\n\u201cWell, Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah ain\u2019t talkin\u2019; he des er-watchin\u2019, an\u2019 hi were de dark\ner de moon ergin, an\u2019 he were plum ready ter meet de debil now.\n\n\u201cSo whilst dey was er-prayin\u2019 an\u2019 \u2019zortin\u2019 ober de gal fur ter mek her\nmin\u2019 kim back, he was er-workin\u2019 wid er \u2019intment ter kill dat fly, an\u2019\ner-\u2019sortin\u2019 ter \u2019spedients fur ter keep de debil\u2019s sperit fum gittin\u2019\nback inter he body when he kim outer de fly.\n\n\u201c\u2018Mos\u2019 ever\u2019 hoodoo kin do dat. I\u2019s heard \u2019bout hit many er time; dar\nwhar de debil larn hit. Dar allus two uv \u2019em, an\u2019 dey set facin\u2019, an\u2019\nspits deyse\u2019fs inter anything dey wants ter go inter.\n\n\u201cCourse Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah could do hit hese\u2019f; dey cotch him er-doin\u2019 uv hit;\nan\u2019 course he ain\u2019t gwine ter let de debil beat him at he best game.\n\n\u201cWell, Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he sot erbout fur ter mek er \u2019intment fur ter cotch\ndat fly, so he mek er \u2019intment dat smells powerful sweet, an\u2019 he sot de\npot down by de side er de gal, an\u2019 bimeby de fly buzz round an\u2019 smell\nhit, an\u2019 he fin\u2019 hit sweeter ter him \u2019n de gal, an\u2019 furgit all \u2019bout\nher, an\u2019 eat twel he fitten ter bus\u2019; den he drap offen de aidge an\u2019\nbuzz his wings twel he die.\n\n\u201cDen Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he know de debil\u2019s sperit loose fum de fly, an\u2019 he ain\u2019\ngwine ter let de debil git back inter he body dis time if he kin hope\nhit, so he \u2019gin ter work he charm hard es he kin.\n\n\u201cDe debil mek er win\u2019 blow de fly out de do\u2019; but Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah follers\nhit. Den de debil blow dus\u2019 in Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah\u2019s eyes; but he rubs hit out,\nan\u2019 follers de fly.\n\n\u201cDen de debil blow er strong smoke in Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah\u2019s eyes fur ter keep him\nfum follerin\u2019; an\u2019 hit burn an\u2019 hit smart, but Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he foller whar\nde win\u2019 er-totin\u2019 dat fly.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cAN\u2019 SPLIT DE WIN\u2019 DES \u2019HINE DE FLY\u201d]\n\n\u201cDen de debil gib Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah er miz\u2019ry in de knee: he were ole, Unc\u2019\n\u2019Jah were, an\u2019 \u2019twere mighty easy ter mek him painful: but Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah\ndes limp on an\u2019 keep de dead fly in de win\u2019 des erfore him, \u2019case he\nwanter hope set de gal free, \u2019count er his son Rube.\n\n\u201cWell, de debil play all kinds er capers wid Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah \u2019dout techin\u2019\nhim, \u2019case he were de bestes\u2019 hoodoo dat ebber were, dead er libin\u2019,\nan\u2019 de debil were mighty put ter hit, \u2019case de power er de debil stops\nshort somers, \u2019n\u2019 he were putty nigh rin ter de eend uv he rope.\n\n\u201cSo dey rin an\u2019 rin an\u2019 rin, Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah allus keepin\u2019 de fly in de win\u2019\ndes erhead uv him, dough his tongue was hangin\u2019 out.\n\n\u201cDen de debil he mek de win\u2019 blow harder, an\u2019 de fly in de win\u2019 des\nfa\u2019r flew; but Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he hol\u2019 up he charm erfore him an\u2019 split de\nwin\u2019 des \u2019hine de fly.\n\n\u201cHit were sho\u2019 cuissome ter see dat dead fly scootin\u2019 on de win\u2019, an\u2019\nUnc\u2019 \u2019Jah des er-ridin\u2019 hard, an\u2019 er-ridin\u2019 on nuffin; but dey say dat\nhe sho\u2019 done hit, an\u2019 hit \u2019pear lack arter while de debil \u2019stonished\n\u2019case he see sech er powerful hoodoo, an\u2019 he let dat win\u2019 die back an\u2019\ndat fly flop down so suddent dat hit \u2019mos\u2019 take Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah\u2019s bref erway.\n\n\u201cDen Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he see dat de debil sperit done gone inter er debil\nhoss dat was waitin\u2019 fur he marster close by ter whar de fly fall; an\u2019\nhit were powe\u2019ful hard ter keep up wid de debil hoss, \u2019case he mek he\ntime by jumps es well es by flyin\u2019; but Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah\u2019s charm was es good\nes de debil hoss, an\u2019 when he fly, Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah fly, an\u2019 when he jump,\nUnc\u2019 \u2019Jah jump, an\u2019 he keep \u2019im plum in sight.\n\n\u201cDen de debil he w\u2019ar out he hoss, an\u2019 goes inter er grasshopper. Unc\u2019\n\u2019Jah groans at dat, fur he was mighty ole ter go so high an\u2019 drap so\nlow ever\u2019 time wid de grasshopper, but dey say dat he done hit, an\u2019\nsho\u2019 beat de grasshopper er-hoppin\u2019.\n\n\u201cDar was er squinch-eyed toad er settin\u2019 by er rock, de\ndebilishest-lookin\u2019 toad dat ebber you see, an\u2019 when de grasshopper\nwore out, de debil flings his ole laigs erway an\u2019 goes inter de toad.\n\n\u201cUnc\u2019 \u2019Jah he know hit wa\u2019n\u2019t no use ter kill de toad, \u2019case de debil\ngwine fin\u2019 sumpen harder ter git ter he body in, so Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he hol\u2019\nhe charm fas\u2019 an\u2019 des hop \u2019longsider de toad.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cAN\u2019 SHO\u2019 BEAT DE GRASSHOPPER\u201d]\n\n\u201cHit were mighty low-down work fur Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah, but he were workin\u2019\nter git eben wid de debil, an\u2019 we has ter squat low ter rise high\nsometimes, an\u2019 dat gal an\u2019 dat Rube was bofe er-pinin\u2019 unner de cuss.\n\n\u201cWell, dat toad wa\u2019n\u2019t any good company ter Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah, an\u2019 his belly\nwa\u2019n\u2019t useter stayin\u2019 so clost ter de groun\u2019, so he were powerful glad\nwhen dat toad \u2019low he was mighty tired an\u2019 sleepy too.\n\n\u201cSo Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah were on de watch, an\u2019 all uv er sudden dat toad flop\ndown an\u2019 open he mouf fur bref, fur de debil rid him hard, an\u2019 fum de\nflutterin\u2019 an\u2019 hollerin\u2019, Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah know de debil done fin\u2019 he nigger,\nde jay; but de jay cain\u2019t bre\u2019k he word ter Ole Mammy Natur\u2019, an\u2019\ncain\u2019t fly at night, an\u2019 he hol\u2019 so fas\u2019 de debil cain\u2019t shake him\nouten de tree.\n\n\u201cHit were de same way wid de jay\u2019s cousin, de crow; dar wa\u2019n\u2019t no corn\ndat de debil mout coax him wid in de night.\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 dat whar birds an\u2019 beastes is better\u2019n men; if you offers er\nman ernough, he\u2019ll \u2019low ter do anything, but t\u2019others cain\u2019t go \u2019gin\nNatur\u2019; an\u2019 hit ain\u2019t natchel fur er jay er er crow ter go kerhootin\u2019\nin de night-time.\n\n\u201cDar wa\u2019n\u2019t nuffin lef\u2019 fur de debil ter tek fur ter retch his body in\nbut er bat, an\u2019 Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah hain\u2019t got no wings; but Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he spread\nhe arms an\u2019 he ragged coat, an\u2019 riz wid de bat.\n\n\u201cHit were de dark er de moon, an\u2019 dar wa\u2019n\u2019t many bugs er-flyin\u2019, an\u2019\nhit \u2019pear lack dat bat wa\u2019n\u2019t so powerful anxious ter go; an\u2019 de way he\nskimmed in de space an\u2019 bumped ergin de trees fur ter spite de debil in\nhim was er caution.\n\n\u201cBut ever\u2019 time de bat skim, Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah skum, an\u2019 ever\u2019 time de bat\nbumped, Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah bumped, twel hit \u2019mos\u2019 knock de bref plum outen him,\nan\u2019 his ole bald head were es full er goose aigs es er nut is er meat;\nbut Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah were des er-keepin\u2019 up wid de debil.\n\n\u201cWell, dat body er de debil were er long way off, fur dey flewed an\u2019\ndey flewed, an\u2019 rin ergin mo\u2019 quare critters in de air dat \u2019pear ter be\nsome \u2019quaintance er de bat, an\u2019 he stop ter say \u2019howdy\u2019 ter. Dey rin\nergin all kinds er owls, an\u2019 de bat \u2019pear ter be mighty thick wid \u2019em,\nan\u2019 fum de things dey talks ter one nuther in de dark, Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah think\nthey mout be kin.\n\n\u201cWell, dey flewed an\u2019 dey flewed, an\u2019 es Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah were in mighty close\ncomp\u2019ny wid de bat, de owls dey think Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah er mighty big un, an\u2019\ndey mek dey compliments ter him. Bein\u2019 es how Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he w\u2019ar de\ncharm an\u2019 were er high-toned hoodoo, he know de language, an\u2019 mek \u2019em\nback mighty perlight, des lack de owls, an\u2019 de owls an\u2019 de bat an\u2019 Unc\u2019\n\u2019Jah dey \u2019pear ter be des lack brudders.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cDEY FLEWED AN\u2019 DEY FLEWED\u201d]\n\n\u201cUnc\u2019 \u2019Jah he lack mighty well ter be back in he cabin, \u2019sleep, but hit\nwa\u2019n\u2019t ever\u2019 hoodoo dat git de chances er gittin\u2019 eben wid de debil\never\u2019 day, so he keep er spreadin\u2019 he coat an\u2019 stretchin\u2019 he arms lack\nde bat.\n\n\u201cDey flewed so high dat dey could see down folks\u2019 chimblies; an\u2019 \u2019pear\nlack dar wa\u2019n\u2019t no tops on de houses, fur de debil were \u2019long an\u2019 he\nonkiver \u2019em, lack he do ever\u2019 night, an\u2019 Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah see de white folks,\ndes what dey doin\u2019, some uv \u2019em \u2019sleep, some uv \u2019em drinkin\u2019, some uv\n\u2019em dancin\u2019, an\u2019 some uv \u2019em playing cards, an\u2019 er-doin\u2019 all kinds er\ndevilment dey think nobody kin see\u2014stranglin\u2019 wid ropes, an\u2019 killin\u2019 in\nde dark, an\u2019 sech lack; but Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he ain\u2019t say nuffin, \u2019case hit\nwa\u2019n\u2019t none er his business. De debil he were mighty peart, an\u2019 ever\u2019\ntime dey kim ter rinnin\u2019 water he try ter shoot dat bat er-crost hit,\n\u2019case he know er hoodoo cain\u2019t cross er rinnin\u2019 branch; but ever\u2019 time\ndat bat dive, Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he spread he coat-tails wider an\u2019 head \u2019im\noff, \u2019case he know what bre\u2019k he charm, an\u2019 de way dey kep\u2019 er-duckin\u2019\nan\u2019 er-divin\u2019 when all hones\u2019 folks was in dey beds was des fa\u2019rly\nscand\u2019lous; but Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah were tryin\u2019 ter set dat gal free fum de cuss\ner de debil.\n\n\u201cWell, Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he do so lack de bat dat he most furgit whedder he er\nbat er no, \u2019case he do dey ways an\u2019 know dey talk \u2019dout steddyin\u2019 uv\nhit; but bimeby de debil he git tired er dodgin\u2019 Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah, \u2019case he\ndone lef\u2019 dat body so long already dat he know hit dry up an\u2019 crack,\nlack clay in de sun, an\u2019 he know he gwine hab er power er trouble ter\ngit back inter hit; an\u2019 he see de dodgin\u2019 ain\u2019t do no good, an\u2019 \u2019pear\nlack he lef\u2019 dat body \u2019cross de branch, so he mek de kin\u2019 er breeze\nblow up dat allus mek Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah powerful sleepy. Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah fit hit\nmighty hard, an\u2019 he op\u2019n he eyes wide an\u2019 cl\u2019ar he throat fur ter wake\nhim up when he feels \u2019em shet, but Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah des couldn\u2019 mek er stan\u2019\n\u2019gin dat breeze, an\u2019 es he fly erlong he op\u2019n he mouf an\u2019 \u2019gin ter\nsnore. Dat were enough fur de debil, an\u2019 de way he mek dat bat duck an\u2019\ndive an\u2019 git \u2019cross dat branch whilst Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah were nappin\u2019 would er\nmek yo\u2019 head fa\u2019r swim. Well, when Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah wake up an\u2019 fin\u2019 hese\u2019f on\nde groun\u2019, an\u2019 de bat lyin\u2019 dead an\u2019 de debil \u2019cross de branch, he sho\u2019\nwere plum mad, an\u2019 he rub an\u2019 rub he charm fur ter mek hit work.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cAN\u2019 GIB ONE LAS\u2019 AWFUL HOWL\u201d]\n\n\u201cDar sot Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah on one side de branch, an\u2019 dar sot de debil on\nt\u2019other, an\u2019 Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah couldn\u2019 cross hit, \u2019case he er hoodoo, an\u2019\ndar hain\u2019t no hoodoo kin cross rinnin\u2019 water \u2019dout bre\u2019kin\u2019 de spell.\nDe debil he drag de body fum unner de trees, but hit were des es dry es\nclay, an\u2019 de debil tryin\u2019 es hard es he could ter git back inter hit,\nan\u2019 Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah des er tryin\u2019 fur ter keep him fum hit.\n\n\u201cBut de charm ain\u2019 workin\u2019 good, \u2019count er de rinnin\u2019 water, dough de\ndebil hab er mighty hard time.\n\n\u201cDe debil sot de body up \u2019gin er tree, an\u2019 he sot down er facin\u2019 uv\nhit, an\u2019 he try ter spit hese\u2019f back inter de body; an\u2019 he spit an\u2019\nspit twel he mouf plum dry, but dat body ain\u2019 move, \u2019case de debil done\nbeen gone too long, an\u2019 hit done git too dry.\n\n\u201cDe debil hatter borry er body, \u2019case he cain\u2019t mek one, an\u2019 hit b\u2019long\nter some low-down man dat wand\u2019rin\u2019 roun\u2019 outen he skin; an\u2019 de debil\nhe hatter gib hit back, an\u2019 he kinder in er herry too, \u2019case dat man\ngotter go ter work in de mornin\u2019.\n\n\u201cWell, de debil he spit an\u2019 he spit, an\u2019 \u2019cross de branch Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he\nwork an\u2019 he work\u2014he tryin\u2019 fur ter dry up de water so\u2019s his charm kin\nwork on de debil.\n\n\u201cHit \u2019pear lack de debil gwine win, \u2019case he done spit hese\u2019f\n\u2019mos\u2019 half inter de body; an\u2019 de body lif\u2019 he arm an\u2019 chuckle an\u2019\nlaugh\u2014course hit were de debil chucklin\u2019 an\u2019 laughin\u2019 in him; but dat\nbranch were er dryin\u2019 up too, mighty fas\u2019, an\u2019 dey bofe uv \u2019em herry,\nfur hit done \u2019most day.\n\n\u201cDe body lif\u2019 t\u2019other arm; but de branch done plum dry now; an\u2019 Unc\u2019\n\u2019Jah he riz wid he charm an\u2019 jump \u2019cross an\u2019 lay he han\u2019s on de body;\nan\u2019 de debil he pull, an\u2019 Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah he pull; but de debil cain\u2019t work\n\u2019gin\u2019 Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah\u2019s charm; an\u2019 he howls lack er dog fur ter skeer Unc\u2019\n\u2019Jah off, but Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah ain\u2019t skeered; an\u2019 he bark lack er wolf, but\nUnc\u2019 \u2019Jah know him; an\u2019 he roar lack er lion an\u2019 holler lack er mad\nbull, but Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah keep he han\u2019 wid de charm in hit on de body.\n\n\u201cDen de debil shine he eyes at Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah lack er tiger-cat, an\u2019 r\u2019ar\nan\u2019 t\u2019ar an\u2019 chaw de ole coat plum offen Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah, but Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah got\nholt er de body yit. Den de debil he gin hit up, \u2019case he cain\u2019t work\n\u2019gin sech er powerful hoodoo, an\u2019 draw de res\u2019 uv he sperit outen de\nbody, an\u2019 gib one las\u2019 awful howl, \u2019case de day was bre\u2019kin\u2019 now, an\u2019\ngo des er-limpin\u2019 an\u2019 er-yellin\u2019 inter de wood in de shape uv er lame\nyaller dorg dat was er-sniffin\u2019 close by.\n\n\u201cDen Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah go up ter de house an\u2019 git some salt, fur salt hit mek\nde debil plum miserbul, an\u2019 he fill up dat ole body wid hit lack er\nsack, an\u2019 tie hit up, an\u2019 fling hit inter de bayou.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\u201cDe debil he go erbout er-seekin\u2019 fresh parsturs an\u2019 er-feedin\u2019 on new\ngrass, fur he ain\u2019 nebber kim on dat place no mo\u2019; an\u2019 he ain\u2019 pester\nde gal no mo\u2019 arter Rube done marry her; fur dat de way Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah git\nshet uv him, an\u2019 dat de way ter git even wid him when he pesters yo\u2019,\nif yo\u2019 does hit lack Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah do, in de dark er de moon.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n THE OTHER MAUMER\n\n\nThe great bell was sounding the dinner hour, for it was twelve o\u2019clock,\nand the long line of negroes threw aside the gunny-sacks as they came\nfrom the field and wiped their perspiring faces, for it was yet warm,\neven though October had already touched the trees upon the hill.\n\nThe ringing of the bell was a welcome sound to Cely, one that she\nhad been longing to hear for a whole hour, as her fingers fluttered\nrestlessly over the bolls. She had not been working well; Susan and\nRachel, reckoned with Cely the fastest pickers on the place, were many\npounds ahead; but Cely did not care; her heart was not in her work\nto-day.\n\nSilently she made her way by the side of the hill to the long cabin\ncalled the \u201cNursery,\u201d where Maumer, weazen and bent, and long emeritus\nas to field duties, tended the twenty little wooden cradles.\n\nMaumer was sitting on the doorstep holding one of her little charges.\n\u201cMy Cindy\u2019s Paul got dat thrash ergin mighty bad. Calamus, catnip, and\ngroun\u2019-ivy hain\u2019t no good fur hit sometimes,\u201d said Maumer, as Cely drew\nnearer. \u201cI tole Cindy dat, but she des want \u2019em, \u2019case Ole Miss gib \u2019em\nter Little Miss when she er baby. Cindy want Paul lack whi\u2019 chillen,\nbut Ole Miss don\u2019 tek no notice uv \u2019im, when she see yo\u2019 baby, Cely,\u201d\nsaid Maumer, with a frown. \u201cAllus sayin\u2019 what er fine chile he am, an\u2019\nnebber gib Cindy\u2019s chile nuffin but er blue chany mug.\u201d\n\nCely was not listening; swiftly she glided by nineteen of the little\ncradles, and lifted, with many soft tones and caresses, a tiny brown\nand blue bundle from the twentieth, for Cely\u2019s was the very newest baby\nin the Nursery.\n\n\u201cMammy little pickaninny! Mammy putty nigger!\u201d cooed Cely, tossing up\nthe little bundle.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cHER HEART WAS NOT IN HER WORK\u201d]\n\nMaumer still mumbled on the doorstep. \u201cYou looks lack er Mammy!\u2014an\u2019\nhain\u2019t got yo\u2019 coat ter yo\u2019 ankles yit! Er settled man lack Henry\nin mighty po\u2019 business takin\u2019 er chile lack yo\u2019 is. Yo\u2019s er nice\nMammy!\u201d But Cely was used to Maumer\u2019s moods, for she had been cross\never since Henry married Cely instead of Cindy, Maumer\u2019s stupid\ndaughter, and had grumbled continuously from the day the little new\nbaby was put under her charge.\n\n\u201cWake up! wake up! hit yo\u2019 Mammy, boy!\u201d and the girl lifted the tiny\nlids with her long slender fingers, but the baby only pressed his lips\nlazily against the mother\u2019s breast.\n\n\u201cWhat de matter wid him, Maumer? He hain\u2019t eben hongry! He allus wake\nup an\u2019 play wid me!\u201d\n\n\u201cHush, yo\u2019 fool; yo\u2019 wake \u2019em all up! Hain\u2019t nuffin de matter wid him.\nHe been yellin\u2019 er hour, an\u2019 dey hatter sleep some time.\u201d\n\nThe other mothers were now coming in; for they had regular times to go\nto the Nursery, especially those with very young infants.\n\n\u201cHi, Judy!\u201d said Maumer to a comfortable, rather elderly mother, who\nhad just taken her latest born, her fifteenth, from the cradle, \u201cCely\nthink dar sumpen de matter wid her baby, and ready ter \u2019cuse me wid\nhit, \u2019case hit want ter go ter sleep. Think she got one er dem jumpin\u2019\ndolls lack Little Miss. Her an\u2019 Henry keep hit wake all night er\nplayin\u2019 wid hit, an\u2019 hit gotter sleep some. Here, gimme dat chile, gal!\nYo\u2019 dun\u2019no\u2019 nuffin \u2019bout babies!\u201d There was a general laugh at Cely\u2019s\nexpense. \u201cNuffin de matter wid de chile!\u201d and Maumer tossed and tickled\nhim until he crowed.\n\nBut Cely looked at Maumer distrustfully.\n\n\u201c_Yo_\u2019 sho\u2019 dar hain\u2019t nuffin de matter wid my baby, Judy?\u201d Cely asked,\nwistfully, as she put her forefinger into the brown, waxen fist that\nbelonged to the tiny bundle Maumer held.\n\n\u201cNaw, gal, naw!\u201d laughed Judy, putting number fifteen, who began to\nyell vigorously, back into its cradle. \u201cHain\u2019t nuffin de matter wid\nhim, \u2019cep\u2019in\u2019 he so mighty little; fur yo\u2019 sho\u2019 does look lack er gal\ner-totin\u2019 er doll. Dar hain\u2019t nuffin de matter wid him; he des sleepy.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo er baby allus breave dat way?\u201d Cely was twisting her apron\nnervously. \u201cDoes dey allus \u2019beat, beat,\u2019 in de top er de head an\u2019 in de\nchist dat er way? Tek off his clo\u2019es an\u2019 look, Judy.\u201d\n\nMaumer frowned and turned on her heel when Judy good-naturedly took the\nlittle bundle from her arms and stripped the blue checked slip from\nCely\u2019s latest doll.\n\n\u201cHain\u2019t he putty \u2019dout any clo\u2019es?\u201d cried Cely, beguiled from her fear\nby her admiration of the brown, bow-legged Cupid squirming on Judy\u2019s\nknee.\n\n\u201cCely proud fitten ter bus\u2019; she des wanter show her baby off,\u201d said\nthe mother of the ugliest baby in the Nursery.\n\n\u201cHain\u2019t nuffin wrong wid him, Cely, \u2019cep\u2019in\u2019 he little, an\u2019 if he lib,\nhe\u2019ll grow,\u201d said Judy, oracularly, as she relinquished the child. \u201cAll\nde young things\u2014birds, an\u2019 rabbits, an\u2019 babies\u2014beat dat er way in de\nhead an\u2019 in de chist. Dar de bell now!\u201d and Judy folded her sun-bonnet\nand laid it, slats sidewise, on the top of her head.\n\nCely sighed as the teasing laugh of the women rang back to her; then,\nwith a parting caress, she laid her baby in the cradle and followed.\n\nOld Maumer, bent and sullen, stood in the doorway until the last figure\nhad turned the hill-path.\n\n\u201cThink I dun\u2019no\u2019 nuffin \u2019bout babies, when I nussed dat berry Cely, wid\nall de airs she gibs herse\u2019f, right here in dis cradle. Heap er use\nshe got wid er baby, an\u2019 she hain\u2019t hardly er \u2019oman yit, an\u2019 Ole Miss\nan\u2019 Little Miss myratin\u2019 so.\n\n\u201cCely got some putty whi\u2019 clo\u2019es wid lace on, an\u2019 some blue beads too,\ndat Little Miss tek offen her big doll fur de baby; an\u2019 Cindy got\nnuffin but er blue chany mug, an\u2019 sumpen ter eat fum de Big House.\nCindy sech er hog; allus ax Ole Miss fur sumpen ter eat when she down.\nIf hit wa\u2019n\u2019t fur Cely, Cindy\u2019d er got all dem beads an\u2019 things, \u2019case\ndey\u2019s de two littlest babies, but dey\u2019s des lack es two peas.\u201d Maumer\nhad taken Cindy\u2019s feverish child in her arms again; then moving with a\nsudden impulse, she laid it in the cradle beside Cely\u2019s baby. \u201cEs lack\nes peas in one pod,\u201d she whispered. \u201cIf hit wa\u2019n\u2019t fur Cely\u2019s, Ole Miss\nwould mighty much dis\u2019n, \u2019case he de putties\u2019 in de Nursery, \u2019cep\u2019in\u2019\nCely\u2019s, an\u2019 he de onlies\u2019 gran\u2019chile dat I got.\u201d Cindy\u2019s baby moaned as\nif in pain, and Maumer took him up again.\n\n\u201cI dun\u2019no\u2019 what ail him\u2014hain\u2019t time fur \u2019is teef ter mek trouble, but\nhis mouf pester me mightily. I\u2019s tired er de whi\u2019 folkses\u2019 physic; I\ngwine fix my own truck. If he do git worser\u2014if he do\u2014\u201d Maumer looked\nat the blue beads around the neck of Cely\u2019s sleeping baby, and then\ninto the face of the little sufferer before her, with a leer of latent\ncunning.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn the olden time of slavery days, the mother of a new baby was the\nsubject of especial envy.\n\nAs a consequence, there were many privileges that attached, many\nimmunities, both before and after it came. Ole Miss always went to\nthe Quarters personally upon such occasions; the children followed\nwith gifts, and put in their claims to the little black baby with many\nexcited arguments.\n\nUpon the self-same day, the two little new faces peeped into the\nQuarters; the one, the child of stalwart Henry\u2019s girl-wife, had been\nchosen to be fought over and cried over; the other had been accorded\nonly ordinary honors, for Cindy was not a favorite among the children,\nand hence old Maumer\u2019s jealousy was aroused.\n\nThrough the long day Maumer sat and brooded, neglecting the toddlers\nwho had strayed onto forbidden ground; and stirring the cradles roughly\nwith her foot,\u2014Old Maumer, who had been trusted and revered for so\nlong,\u2014but she had not a grandchild then.\n\nMa\u2019y Ann, the young assistant, played with acorn cups and bits of\nchina under the old oak, unmolested, for Maumer was wrestling with a\nproblem, and all of the latent, unsuspected savagery was rising.\n\nThen by-and-by the little wooden cradles were empty, for the work-day\nwas done; the mothers had taken their babies to their own cabins, and\nMaumer laid Cindy\u2019s child on her shoulder and closed the door.\n\nAll night the candle glimmered through the cracks in Maumer\u2019s cabin;\nall night she physicked and the baby cried; while Cindy, heavy-eyed and\nstupid, slept soundly until day. The door was closed; Maumer knew that\nshe was disobeying orders, for Ole Miss had peremptorily commanded that\nshe was to be notified in case of serious illness. But Maumer was sly\nand cunning; Ole Miss should not be told.\n\nConvulsion after convulsion shook the tiny frame, all of the remedies\nwere used without effect, and towards daybreak she tried the baby\u2019s\nfortune, \u201ccome life er come death\u201d; then Maumer made up her mind.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe old oak was casting its soft shade across the lawn, where the\nNursery toddlers sat sedately munching the sweet corn pone that it\nwas one of old Maumer\u2019s duties to provide, while Ma\u2019y Ann was just\nstarting to the spring for a bucket of cool water.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cSHOULD SHE DO IT?\u201d]\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 min\u2019, yo\u2019 fetch me my gourd yo\u2019 lef\u2019 on de battlin\u2019-bench \u2019side de\nbranch, an\u2019 min\u2019 yo\u2019 herries, \u2019fore I beat de life outen yo\u2019!\u201d\n\nMa\u2019y Ann\u2019s eyes widened and \u201cbucked\u201d at Maumer\u2019s unwonted proposition,\nas she idly swung the bucket along the hill-path, singing an\nirrelevant, foolish little song.\n\nThe great bell would ring in a moment; Maumer knew it by the shadow of\nthe oak, as well as by the old dial just across the lawn.\n\nShould she do it? Up and down, both ways she looked; there was nobody\neven in sight, save Ma\u2019y Ann, dawdling far down the spring-path; then\nthe great bell clanged through the Quarters. A spasm stiffened the form\nof Cindy\u2019s baby, and Maumer, with a stern face and trembling hands,\nstripped the long shirt and blue beads from Cely\u2019s boy, and throwing\nthem hastily upon her daughter\u2019s child, she laid it in the twentieth\ncradle, changing Cely\u2019s baby to the cradle just vacated.\n\nOld Maumer, with shaking limbs, was raking up the smouldering coals\nupon the hearth when the lively throng of mothers came filing in to\nnurse their little ones.\n\n\u201cHi! What ail Maumer? What de matter?\u201d asked Judy, always foremost.\n\n\u201cChill,\u201d grunted Maumer, as she knelt to woo the fickle blaze. \u201cGo\nfetch in some chips, Ma\u2019y Ann!\u201d for Ma\u2019y Ann had returned.\n\n * * * * *\n\nDancing, skipping, like a child let loose for a holiday, came Cely; she\nhad even \u201chop-scotched\u201d with Ma\u2019y Ann that very morning. Nothing was\nthe matter with her baby\u2014Judy said so, Maumer said so\u2014even old Maumer,\nwho was so jealous; he was still her doll, and how he cooed and kicked\nfor her just before she left him!\n\nDown the long row of cradles she leaped rather than walked, in the\nfulness and exuberance of life.\n\n\u201cYo\u2019 Mammy\u2019s comin\u2019, boy, yo\u2019 Mammy\u2019s comin\u2019!\u201d and snatching the baby\nfrom the cradle, she tossed it gleefully above her head.\n\nThen a shriek, that startled even the laborers who had not left the\nfield\u2014a shriek of agony, of fear, of a wild thing wounded in the heart,\nfor the little cold mouth turned away from the warm breast so full\nof life and strength, and the tiny limbs convulsed, and then relaxed\nforever with the breathing of a sigh.\n\nHolding the dead baby close, and rocking in her woe, the face of Cely\nseemed hardened and ashened in a moment, like that of an old woman,\nwhile, shrill and high, her voice carried even to the clearing.\n\n\u201cMaumer! yo\u2019 pizened my boy! Yo\u2019 kilt him, Maumer!\u201d\n\nBut Maumer, with closed eyes, only mumbled over the coals and shivered,\nthough the noon was warm.\n\n * * * * *\n\nSmiles came through Cely\u2019s tears, smiles of gratification when Little\nMiss, with eyes and nose all red, refused to be comforted for the loss\nof her \u201clittle nigger,\u201d and brought from the Big House more pretty\nbaby things than Cely had ever seen; while Ole Miss put them on with\nher own hands; and smoothing down the dainty folds, laid in the brown,\ndoll-like fingers the tiniest, whitest rose-bud that the early frost\nhad spared. Then emotion was stirred to its depths again, and the wild\nblood of two continents ran riot in her veins, even to the verge of\nmadness, when Cely came to know the meaning of a grave. And Ole Miss\nhad her brought to the Big House, by way of comfort to Henry, who was\nOle Marse\u2019s foreman at that time.\n\nOle Miss tried to teach her to sew and to spin, but restraint was\ngalling, the Big House with its civilization had no attraction after\nthe novelty had worn off, and suddenly the wheel burred, the thread\nsnapped, and Cely would leap like a tiger-cat through the doorway and\nbeyond the wood-lot, where later they would find her, tenderly nursing\nin her arms a doll made of a folded towel.\n\nBut time was kinder even than Ole Miss, and after a while the laugh and\nsmile came back, Henry\u2019s cabin was cheery again, and before the picking\nwas over, Cely was rivalling Susan and Rachel in the field.\n\n * * * * *\n\nDown in a little cabin by the cane-brake, old Maumer, now \u201cthe Other\nMaumer,\u201d lived alone, weaving shuck mats, mending nets for the\nfishermen, and \u201chooking\u201d mittens for the negroes against the coming of\nthe winter; for Maumer was deposed, another Maumer reigned over the\nlittle wooden cradles, and _her_ foot was not permitted to cross the\nthreshold; for Maumer had been tried and convicted of murder by a jury\nof her peers.\n\nOle Marse, upon careful investigation, could find nothing culpable\nin Maumer save the failure to report the illness, which was made the\ncause of removal. The charge, made by Cely and the other negroes, of\npoisoning could not be substantiated; though the attack appeared to\nhave been very sudden, it could not be proved that the child had died\nfrom other than a dreaded infantile trouble.\n\nThroughout the trial and investigation Maumer preserved a sullen\nsilence. She neither appealed to Ole Marse nor to any of the negroes.\nShe did not plead her long life of usefulness, and she denied none of\nthe charges, that grew each day with the rapidity of Jonah\u2019s gourd.\n\nNow and again she smiled grimly as she looked upon the thriving child\nin sleepy Cindy\u2019s arms and heard that Little Miss had taken him for her\nown. That was glory enough; that was honor, immortality. He would grow\nup a house nigger\u2014\u201chigh quality\u201d\u2014_her_ grandchild, in the eyes of the\nworld, in the eyes of even Cindy, for she could not trust Cindy with\nher secret, and Cindy was too stupid to know the difference.\n\nHer eyes greedily took in the splendor of Little Miss\u2019s gifts on each\nsuccessive visit, carefully looking them over, clothes and beads and\ntoys, like a miser counting gold, and it was enough. This sufficed for\ndays alone in the cane-brake, for nights when the wind was high, even\nthough she was now the Other Maumer and had been set apart.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe spring-time came around, but weeks and months were long, and the\nwinter of loneliness was telling upon the Other Maumer.\n\nShe missed the spring-time crop of babies, the wooden cradles with\ntheir worn rockers\u2014worn by _her_ foot; she missed the little toddlers\nthat had outgrown the cradles, but more than all, she missed her\ndignity of position. In the brief time, so long to youth and age, the\nold back became more bowed, and childishness grew apace.\n\nThe butterflies possessed a wonderful fascination\u2014the white and\nyellow\u2014and the reed mats would drop from her hands in forgetful\nadmiration. But when the brown ones hovered near her, poising on\ngorgeous velvety wings, the Other Maumer would shiver and cover up her\nhead\u2014\u201cDe soul er Cindy\u2019s baby, oh, my Gord! kim back ter claim his\nplace, er \u2019cusin\u2019 me er de lie! Oh, my Gord!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201c\u2018FLY, FLY,\u2019 SHE WHISPERED\u201d]\n\nHow she would fight the brown butterflies away, if they alighted on\nher doorstep! And carefully she gathered and crushed every wild flower\nthat grew around her cabin, fearful lest they should prove to be an\nattraction. But the brown butterflies came and came; in swarms they\nfilled and circled the Other Maumer\u2019s cabin, by morning, noon, and\nevening. Then the nets hung on the racks unmended, the reeds dried\nunwoven, and the hands of the Other Maumer fluttered over the little\nheaps of red clay that she brought from beside the new well, to fashion\ninto rude butterflies with outstretched wings. Scores and scores were\ndrying in the sun, and yet the busy fingers worked nervously.\n\n\u201cFly, fly,\u201d she whispered, \u201can\u2019 fetch de soul er Cindy\u2019s baby!\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe cold moon shone through the cracks of the Other Maumer\u2019s cabin; the\nOther Maumer did not like the moon; even in her sleep she was always\nhiding something from it, deep and dark, but the moon could always find\nit.\n\nTo-night it was the clay butterflies, and she woke with a start to\nsearch for them.\n\nNot one could she find in the cabin, and with a cry of rage she wrung\nher hands; \u201cDey tryin\u2019 ter steal de soul er Cindy\u2019s baby! Dey done\nstole \u2019em fum me; dey done stole \u2019em!\u201d\n\nThen she remembered that she had carried her apron full to the\nriver-bank, and had left them on the cotton bales to dry. \u201cLef\u2019 \u2019em\nter fetch de soul er Cindy\u2019s baby!\u201d she assured herself; \u201cbut I cain\u2019t\nlose none uv \u2019em!\u201d and with her knotted hickory stick in one hand and a\nbunch of river reeds in the other, the Other Maumer hobbled slowly down\nthe road.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIt wanted but little to the holiday season, though Ole Marse had held\nhis cotton back for a great \u201cdeal.\u201d But now that he had sent word from\nNew Orleans to ship it on, the old storehouse was full to overflowing,\nand it was piled all along the levee waiting for the boat, for Ole\nMarse had never made a better crop.\n\nPerched upon one of the bales that lined the levee, conjuring with the\nrecovered butterflies in the full of the moon sat the Other Maumer,\nhappy in the abandonment of the moment.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cSHE CAME ON BAT\u2019S WINGS\u201d]\n\nAll her world was asleep; even the guards stationed around the\nstorehouse had gone off duty; and where was the need of them? People\ndid not steal cotton, and then the boat was coming in the morning.\n\nTenderly the Other Maumer nursed her butterflies, careful of their\nfrail, sun-baked wings\u2014hiding them in her apron, her bosom, and now in\nher faded turban.\n\n\u201cGwine ter fetch de soul er Cindy\u2019s baby; yas, Lord, gwine ter fetch\nhit back\u2014hain\u2019t yo\u2019, honey? Gwine ter lif\u2019 dem putty wings an\u2019 fly\naway!\u201d The moon rose high and waned, but still the Other Maumer,\nshivering with the cold and damp, sat on the river-bank. The big brown\nbutterflies had been gone so long; she was waiting for them to return.\nShe had fought them and driven them away, but now she wanted them to\ncome back and bring the soul of Cindy\u2019s baby.\n\nThe cry of a child or a cat somewhere in the Quarters startled her,\nand she raised her head; suddenly she was conscious of the smell of\nsomething burning, and a tiny spark leaped through a crack in the\nstorehouse. Then a shower of little sparks came through, and the Other\nMaumer rubbed her cold hands together gleefully. \u201cDey\u2019s done come\nback\u2014dey\u2019s done come back; fly an\u2019 fetch de soul er Cindy\u2019s baby!\u201d\n\nBut the odor of the burning cotton was stirring something else in the\ndisordered brain.\n\nAway back in the Other Maumer\u2019s girlhood there had been a great\nconflagration. Big House, gin-house, cotton, everything was destroyed,\nand horror had fallen upon the plantation, for there had been loss of\nlife as well. The Other Maumer was trying to remember. Slowly she drew\nher hand across her eyes, then shook her head.\n\n\u201cOle Marse?\u201d she queried; then, as the scorching smell grew stronger,\nshe shouted, \u201cDe soul er Cindy\u2019s baby!\u201d and crushing her butterflies in\nher palm, she leaped on her knotted stick into the narrow road leading\nto the Quarters.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNo one knew exactly how the Other Maumer roused the Quarters that\nnight. Some said that she came on bat wings and fluttered against the\nchimney as she cried. Others said that she came on a great horse that\nstruck fire with his hoofs as she beat upon each door with her hickory\nstick. Though to all the message was the same: \u201cFly, fly ter de\nribber an\u2019 fetch de soul er Cindy\u2019s baby!\u201d But the latter part of the\nadmonition was lost in the weirdness of the command, and the frightened\nnegroes tumbled out of their warm beds, wide awake for once.\n\n[Illustration: \u201c\u2018DE BUTTERFLIES DONE COME BACK\u2019\u201d]\n\nUnder the guidance of Henry, in the dark hour before the dawn, full\nfifty negroes had been rolling the outside cotton to a place of safety;\nand now the overseer, in the absence of Ole Marse, hesitated, for the\nopening of the storehouse would result in a bursting out of the flames;\nthat moment would require coolness, courage, and rapid handling; and\nthe negro, always obedient, shrank from taking the responsibility alone.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThen a peremptory command came from somewhere, and twenty strong men\nleaped back as the flames licked through the open doors like tongues.\n\n\u201cStrip, men! Git ter wuk lack debils!\u201d called the impelling voice.\n\u201cRoll \u2019em out! Roll \u2019em out! H\u2014 is hotter\u2019n dis! Roll \u2019em out!\u201d and\nHenry, awe-struck and thrilled, following the leading, dropped into\nline with the others.\n\nSwiftly the work went on, and higher and higher rose the mysterious\nvoice, urging to quicker action by prayer and execration, until the\nnegroes, nerved to the limits of human endurance by superstitious fear,\npushed forward until they felt their sinews crack.\n\n\u201cOne mo\u2019 time, heave ahead, boys!\u201d continued the voice; then the work\nwas discontinued, for the white flame leaped up like a living torch,\nlighting even the river with its weird splendor.\n\n\u201cWuk, men, wuk, fur de soul er Cindy\u2019s baby!\u201d cried the voice, now\nrising in a wail. Then a horror seized upon the negroes, and the\nmen rushed forward to the rescue, for on the roof of the burning\nstorehouse, now revealed through the sickening glare, stood the Other\nMaumer, waving a bunch of river reeds.\n\n\u201cLook! look!\u201d she shouted, reaching for the scurrying sparks; \u201cde\nbutterflies done come back\u2014dey done come back!\u201d Then folding her arms\nand smiling, as though she held a child, \u201cDe soul er Cindy\u2019s baby!\u201d\nThe picture of the past had been photographed for an instant upon the\ndisordered brain.\n\nIt was useless to try to save her; again and again the willing hands\nwere driven back by the heat. Higher and higher crept the flames\naround her, but, oblivious of life or death, the bent figure swayed and\nhugged in ecstasy the dream of the recovered soul.\n\nThen a gust swept through the rifled storehouse, the beams quivered,\nand the cumbersome roof fell in, smothering the flame, and leaving the\nlevee in utter darkness.\n\nIt was from Henry\u2019s throat, deep and tremulous, that the death-song\nrose, joined in by the treble of the women. The wondering Cindy knelt\nin the sand and hid her face. Then, as the truth broke in upon her\nconsciousness, Cely snatched a sleeping child from the arms of the\nkneeling Cindy, and a wild note of joy rose high above the dirge.\n\n\n\n\n STOLEN FIRE\n\n\n\u201cDey done got hit all wrong!\u201d\n\nMammy looked across the room to where the children were quietly\nplaying, then knitted her brows and tenderly caressed the bosom of the\nColonel\u2019s shirt with her iron.\n\n\u201cBrer Bailey hain\u2019t got no call ter \u2019low dat niggers is \u2019v\u2019luted fum\nAfiker monkeys, fur dey \u2019v\u2019lutes back inter monkeys, sho\u2019 mun!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat did you say, Mammy?\u201d asked Fred, who had been playing in the\nfire, holding his stick aloft, and eagerly scanning the shining face\nfor a possible story.\n\n\u201cTell me and Fred a tale,\u201d lisped Margie, outlining her toe upon the\nspotless kitchen floor with the end of her charred stick.\n\n\u201cIf yo\u2019 chillens don\u2019 quit playin\u2019 in de fire, I lay I gwine mek Miss\nMargret whup yo\u2019 bofe when she come fum up-town\u2014see if I don\u2019t!\u201d and\nMammy rolled her eyes ferociously behind her brass specs, at which the\nchildren laughed and teased the more.\n\n\u201cWhat about monkeys, Mammy? Go on!\u201d said Fred.\n\n\u201cBack into monkeys!\u201d echoed Margie. \u201cGo on!\u201d\n\nBut Mammy deliberately tested an iron, as the children waited\nanxiously, then she lifted the expectant Margie upon one end of her\nboard.\n\n\u201cNow, honey, mek yo\u2019 han\u2019s min\u2019 dey own business, or dey\u2019ll git burnt,\u201d\nsaid Mammy; \u201can\u2019 Fred, you set right still dar on dat ar cheer!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, long time ergo de debil he kim up ter de yeth, he did, an\u2019 went\ncourtin\u2019 er gal.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s courtin\u2019?\u201d asked Fred.\n\n\u201cTalkin\u2019 putty, lack yo\u2019 Paw talk ter yo\u2019 Maw \u2019fore dey was married,\u201d\nsaid Mammy. \u201cAn\u2019 de gal was er mighty fine gal, wid long straight hair\nan\u2019 blue eyes, an\u2019 she could sing\u2014laws er mussy! how dat gal could sing!\n\n\u201cWell, de debil ain\u2019t heared no singin\u2019 sence he was drapped in de bad\nplace, an\u2019 dey guv \u2019im de keys, an\u2019 he was dat hongry fur singin\u2019, he\nmek dat gal sing all de time, an\u2019 he stan\u2019 by de pianny, he did, an\u2019\nhide de foot dat got de hoof on hit. Yo\u2019 know by dis time, he done los\u2019\nhe tail, an\u2019 w\u2019ar er tall stovepipe, \u2019case he hatter keep up wid whi\u2019\nfolks.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow did he lose his tail?\u201d asked both of the children at once.\n\n\u201cMammy cain\u2019t tell yo\u2019 now \u2019bout dat, but he done los\u2019 hit. Anyway, he\nmek dat gal sing all day ter \u2019im, an\u2019 de gal she was peart an\u2019 lackly,\nan\u2019 she sing twel her throat done plum dry, an\u2019 de debil he see hit\nwere gittin\u2019 dark, an\u2019 he say hit were time fur him ter go home. He was\n\u2019feared \u2019case hit were so late, an\u2019 he herry, an\u2019 herry, clop-flop,\nclop-flop\u2014de man\u2019s foot an\u2019 de hoof foot keep him back, fur de hoof\nfoot mek two steps ter de man\u2019s one, an\u2019 when he git home, he find dat\nhis fire were done plum out.\n\n\u201cHit were er mighty sorry time fur de debil, \u2019case dar hain\u2019t nobody\ngwine give him none nor len\u2019 him none, an\u2019 he cain\u2019t steal hit hisse\u2019f,\non account er de hoof foot.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy didn\u2019t he buy some matches in town?\u201d asked Fred.\n\n\u201cDidn\u2019t hab no matches den, honey, an\u2019 folkes hatter tote coals kivered\nwid ashes, fur miles an\u2019 miles, if dey let de fire go out.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Count of the hoof foot,\u201d repeated Margie, coming back to the story.\n\n\u201c\u2019Count er de hoof foot,\u201d said Mammy, \u201cso de debil castes \u2019roun\u2019 who he\ngwine git fur ter steal hit fur him.\n\n\u201cFust he went ter de b\u2019ar, an\u2019 stan\u2019 er long way off, \u2019case anybody\nkin beat de debil when his fire done out, an\u2019 he say: \u2019Please, Mister\nB\u2019ar, won\u2019t yo\u2019 fetch me er coal fur ter light my pipe?\u2019 But de b\u2019ar he\ngrowl, \u2019My hair\u2019s too thick, an\u2019 de fire\u2019s too hot, an\u2019 de road\u2019s too\nlong, an\u2019 I \u2019feared I git het up, an\u2019 die.\u2019\n\n\u201cKimmin\u2019 back, he meet wid de rabbit, wid his mouf full er green, an\u2019\nde debil he say: \u2019Hello, Mister Rabbit! won\u2019t yo\u2019 fetch me er coal fur\nter light my pipe?\u2019 De rabbit he look meek an\u2019 sad, an\u2019 he \u2019low, \u2019I\nsorry, Mister Debil, but my baby chile\u2019s done got er awful cramp, an\u2019 I\ngwine fur ter mek him some catnip tea. Good-day, Mister Debil!\u2019 an\u2019 he\nlope right on, an\u2019 de debil mek er mark whar de rabbit cross his path,\nan\u2019 spit in hit.\n\n\u201cDen he kim an\u2019 knock at de tarrypin\u2019s door, but de tarrypin don\u2019t put\nmore\u2019n his nose outside, an\u2019 de debil he \u2019low, \u2019Please Mister Tarrypin,\nwon\u2019t yo\u2019 fetch me er coal fur ter light my pipe?\u2019\n\n\u201cDe tarrypin he draw in his door er little more, an\u2019 \u2019low, \u2019Yo\u2019 knows\nI\u2019d \u2019bleege yo\u2019, Mister Debil, but I goes so slow \u2019count er de mis\u2019ry\nin de heart, dat de spark \u2019ud be out \u2019fore I could fetch hit! Good-day,\nMister Debil!\u2019\n\n\u201cDe debil he \u2019low he must git dat fire somers, \u2019case dey was er needin\u2019\nuv hit down dar, an\u2019 he \u2019pear ter meet up wid de fox, unbeknownst, an\u2019\nhe \u2019low ter be mighty cute, an\u2019 he say, \u2019Good-evenin\u2019, Mister Fox!\u2019\nan\u2019 walk \u2019long side er him, lack dey was thick es peas in er pod, but\nMister Fox he keep er poppin\u2019 uv his tail. Bimeby, Mister Debil he\n\u2019low, \u2019I got two fine segars in my ves\u2019 pocket\u2014tek er smoke, Mister\nFox?\u2019\n\n\u201cBut de fox he see de debil ain\u2019 got no light, an\u2019 he \u2019low, \u2019I sorry\nter lose such good comp\u2019ny es yo\u2019 is, but I gwine tek tea wid Misser\nDominick Rooster. Good-evenin\u2019, Mister Debil!\u2019\n\n\u201cSo de debil he were hard up now, \u2019case dey keep er hollerin\u2019 fur fire\ndown dar, so he ups an\u2019 goes ter de ole blue jay; de jay don\u2019 eben tek\nhe head fum unner his wing. \u2019Go \u2019way, an\u2019 lemme \u2019lone,\u2019 say de jay\u2014\u2019I\ndone been totin\u2019 wood fur yo\u2019 all dis Friday long, an\u2019 I\u2019se tired an\u2019\nI\u2019se sleepy,\u2019 say de jay.\n\n\u201c\u2018Better kim down fum dar er I\u2019ll roas\u2019 yo!\u2019 say de debil, gittin\u2019 mad.\n\n\u201c\u2018Hain\u2019t got no fire,\u2019 laugh de jay, an\u2019 he go back ter sleep ergin.\n\n\u201cDen de debil he go ter his nigger, de crow, an\u2019 he \u2019low, \u2019Go git me er\ncoal er fire dis minute, \u2019fore I w\u2019ar yo des plum out!\u2019\n\n\u201cDe crow he git mighty sassy, \u2019case he know de debil cain\u2019t do nuffin\u2019\nlessen he got er fire, an\u2019 he say: \u2019I done toted corn fur yo\u2019, Mister\nDebil, twel I\u2019se got my wing des plum full er bird-shot; I cain\u2019t fetch\nyo\u2019 no fire!\u2019\n\n\u201cDen de debil he \u2019low he \u2019bout ter gib hit up, twel he spy er worfless\ntown nigger, er chawin\u2019 an\u2019 er spittin\u2019 at er chip in de moon-shine,\nan\u2019 de debil he know he ain\u2019 got no call ter be keerful here, an\u2019 he up\nan\u2019 \u2019low, \u2019Say, boy! you want ter mek some money?\u2019\n\n\u201cDe town nigger plum keen, he don\u2019 keer how he git de money, so he git\nhit, an\u2019 de debil he say: \u2019Go git me er coal er fire\u2014quick now\u2014an\u2019 I\u2019ll\ngib yo\u2019 er dollar!\u2019\n\n\u201cWell, de town nigger he light out an\u2019 ax two er three folks, but dey\nain\u2019 got no fire ter spar\u2019, an\u2019 he go \u2019long twel he kim ter er po\u2019\nwidder \u2019oman, er blowin\u2019 on one po\u2019 little coal er fire ter mek er bed\nfur ter cook her hoe-cake, an\u2019 de nigger he \u2019low\u2014\u2019Lady, I\u2019se hongry!\u2019\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 she say: \u2019I \u2019ain\u2019t cook supper yit\u2014wait er while, an\u2019 I\u2019ll gib yo\u2019\ner hoe-cake.\u2019 Den de nigger he move up closter, an\u2019 tell de \u2019oman how\ngood she is, an\u2019 he stretch out his han\u2019s lack ter warm \u2019em, den all uv\ner suddent he retch an\u2019 snatch dat coal, an\u2019 go skootin\u2019 wid hit ter de\ndebil.\u201d\n\nMammy paused to lay the last piece in the basket, but the children were\ntoo eager to wait.\n\n\u201cWhat did the devil do with him?\u201d asked Fred.\n\n\u201cSkootin\u2019 to de devil,\u201d repeated Margie.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Mammy, \u201cde debil gib him de dollar in two halves so\u2019s\nde nigger could chink \u2019em; an\u2019 de nigger went \u2019long, chinkin\u2019 \u2019em,\nlaughin\u2019 at how smart he were ter steal de coal fum de po\u2019 widder\n\u2019oman, an\u2019 it nebber cost him nuffin\u2014when his lef\u2019 arm itch him, an\u2019\nhe feel dat hit were sproutin\u2019 hair, an\u2019 he fin\u2019 dat he were sproutin\u2019\nhair all ober, an\u2019 he git skeered an\u2019 run, but de hair keep er\nsproutin\u2019 an\u2019 er sproutin\u2019, an\u2019 he keep er changin\u2019, an\u2019 er changin\u2019\nso bimeby he des couldn\u2019t talk, an\u2019, bress goodness, honey! \u2019fore dat\nnigger git half-way home, he was er walkin\u2019 half on his han\u2019s an\u2019 half\non his feet, an\u2019 wa\u2019n\u2019t nuffin but er plum Afika monkey!\u201d\n\nBoth blue eyes and brown were wide and shining. \u201cWhat did they do with\nhim?\u201d asked Fred. \u201cGo on! go on!\u201d urged Margie. \u201cDar kim yo\u2019 Maw,\nchillen! dar she kim!\u201d cried Mammy, clapping her hands\u2014\u201cRun, go see\nwhat she fotch yo\u2019!\u201d\n\n\n\n\n THE BLACK CAT\n\n\nDaddy Mose had been counsellor, soothsayer, and leading exhorter to\nthe whole of the dusky population of Piney ever since the close of the\nwar. It was said that in emergencies the white people themselves could\nnot do without him; for the year that the worms were so bad in the\nbolls even Colonel Preston had sent for Daddy Mose and had a private\nconsultation with him, and the result was that the Colonel\u2019s was the\nonly cotton in the Bend that was worth picking in the fall. Then, on\nanother occasion, the old cherry-tree in the Colonel\u2019s orchard, that\nhad never even blossomed before, had to be propped to keep it from\nbreaking with the fruit, the spring after Daddy Mose drove five rusty\nnails into its heart and buried something tied up in a rag at its\nroots.\n\nBut it was the rising generation, in his own country and in his own\nhouse, that troubled Daddy Mose, and he leaned on his hoe and looked\nwith evident dissatisfaction at the little black figure pirouetting\ndefiantly before him.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019 yo\u2019 do hit, Solly\u2014don\u2019 yo\u2019 do hit!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut Misser Lingum say he gimme er quarter, Daddy!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat good dat pitiful little quarter gwine do yo\u2019 if yo\u2019 kills er\nblack cat?\u201d There was a withering contempt in the tone which made the\nlittle imp squirm and twist uneasily.\n\n\u201cEr black cat es wuth es much es ernuther cat, if hit\u2019s good fur er\nquarter, Daddy!\u201d grunted the imp, plucking up courage and making, a\ncircle in the dust with his great toe.\n\nDaddy Mose hoed two or three turns vigorously, and then looked the\nlittle imp straight in the face.\n\n\u201cDat des lack dese free-born-sence-de-war niggers! Yo\u2019 po\u2019 little\nmizerbul fool, does yo\u2019 know who er black cat am?\u201d\n\nSolly winced. \u201cHe\u2019s wuth er quarter, fur Misser Lingum at de sto\u2019 he\n\u2019low he gimme one if I kills hit an\u2019 fotch de cat ter him. He say he\ndone pay fur de killin\u2019 er dat cat free times, but hit allus turns up\nergin.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Cou\u2019se hit gwine kim back; er black cat allus do,\u201d said Daddy Mose.\n\u201cHain\u2019t no tree ebber sprouted er chunk dat\u2019ll kill er black cat,\nlessen you does hit nine times, an\u2019 I lay yo\u2019 gwine be powerful sorry\nif you does hit den.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I\u2019se gwine hang him wid er rope!\u201d retorted the imp, with a grin.\n\n\u201cYo\u2019 Sol\u2019mun Hightower Dewberry!\u2014Yo\u2019 little black rapscallion!\u2014Hain\u2019t\ngot de fear er debil er man! What you\u2019 Mammy been er doin\u2019 dat she\nhain\u2019t larn yo\u2019 better? Des er gwine out in de worl\u2019 an\u2019 er fetching in\nbad luck lack de mud on you\u2019 foots! I lay I larn yo\u2019 how ter hang er\nblack cat\u2014I larn yo\u2019!\u201d\n\nThere was a fruitless plunge and a wild yell, with very spicy\npunctuations. Solly\u2019s mother, from the tree where she was washing,\ngrunted her endorsement, and, his wrath being appeased and his audience\nincreased by two or three, for it was the noon hour, Daddy Mose took\nhis seat on the washbench and fanned himself with his hat.\n\n\u201cDe free niggers is mighty big fools,\u201d he mused, \u201cdes er flingin\u2019 out\nde sense er dey daddies and mammies es fas\u2019 es dey put book larnin\u2019 in;\nan\u2019 de chillen\u2014de po\u2019, impident free chillen!\u2014dey hain\u2019t lack white\nfolks, an\u2019 dey hain\u2019t lack de niggers uster was\u2014dey des hain\u2019t nuffin!\u201d\n\nThere was hardly a unanimous endorsement of the assertion, but it was\naccorded a respectful hearing, and the quiescent state of his listeners\nand his \u201cchaw er stingy green\u201d at last rendered Daddy Mose pleasantly\nreminiscent.\n\n\u201cEbber telled yo\u2019 all how \u2019Lish Stone fetched de ten-year bad luck on\nhisse\u2019f?\u201d he queried, thoughtfully.\n\n\u201cNo, yo\u2019 hain\u2019t ebber tole we all, Daddy Mose.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 he couldn\u2019 git shet uv hit twel dey burn up de cabin an\u2019 de\nkivers?\u201d\n\n\u201cPo\u2019 creetur!\u2014Um, um.\u201d\n\n\u201cYas, dey hatter burn up de cabin an\u2019 de kivers,\u201d repeated Daddy Mose,\nreflectively.\n\n\u201cTell erbout hit, Daddy\u2014tell erbout hit!\u201d came in chorus.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Daddy Mose, \u201chit were \u2019bout dis way: \u2019Lish Stone wa\u2019n\u2019t\nmuch \u2019count no how, but he hab er mighty fine, peart \u2019oman, an\u2019 dat how\ncome Daddy Mose \u2019member hit ter dis day.\n\n\u201c\u2018Lish hadn\u2019 been pleasin\u2019 er Ole Marse in de way he been er gwine, an\u2019\nOle Marse gib him one mighty straight talk \u2019fore he put de oberseer\u2019s\nwhup arter him, \u2019case one nigger is mighty hard on ernuther nigger,\nbond er free\u2014you knows dat\u2014an\u2019 Ole Marse\u2019s oberseers was allus niggers.\n\n\u201c\u2018Lish he wa\u2019n\u2019t no survigrous nigger, an\u2019 he feel mighty sorry now\n\u2019bout de way he berhave hisse\u2019f, an\u2019 Ole Marse gib him so many chances,\nan\u2019 he lack mighty well ter please Ole Marse now, an\u2019 he mek hisse\u2019f\nanxious waitin\u2019 fur de time.\n\n\u201cWell, Dinah an\u2019 Marthy \u2019ten\u2019 ter de dairy den, an\u2019 bimeby dey gin out\ndat some un des bardaciously stealin\u2019 de cream off en de pans in de\nspring-house ever\u2019 night. Nobody know who hit were ner whar dey kim\nfum, but hit go on, an\u2019 dey git so bol\u2019 dat dar wa\u2019n\u2019t hardly cream\nernough fur de Big House coffee, let \u2019lone fur churnin\u2019 an\u2019 things, an\u2019\nOle Miss she say she gwine mek \u2019em set er watch, fur Dinah an\u2019 Marthy\n\u2019spected some er de fiel\u2019 han\u2019s an\u2019 tole tales on \u2019em.\n\n\u201cDar was allus war \u2019twixt de house niggers an\u2019 de fiel\u2019 han\u2019s, lack de\nquality white folks an\u2019 _po\u2019 buckra_. Not dat Ole Marse would er let\n\u2019em fi\u2019t\u2014no, my Lord\u2014\u2019case we hatter be peaceable an\u2019 Christiun \u2019roun\u2019\nOle Marse. But de house niggers an\u2019 de fiel\u2019 han\u2019s kinder swap words,\nquiet lack, when dey passes, an\u2019 when Ole Miss sont fur er little fiel\u2019\nnigger ter foller arter de chillen er ter swing de pea-fowl bresh ober\nde table, um!\u2014you think dat little nigger done gone up ter heaben!\n\n\u201cSo dey sets er watch down by de spring-house door, an\u2019 Pomp an\u2019 Dave\ndo de watchin\u2019. Pomp he were er mighty young un, an\u2019 don\u2019 know nuffin\nbut pickin\u2019 down de row an\u2019 er-shakin\u2019 uv he foots arter he done; but\nDave he were er hard ole sinner, done cotch in ole age wid conviction,\nan\u2019 he tryin\u2019 his bestest ter git \u2019ligion. He done sot on de mourners\u2019\nbench fur two weeks, an\u2019 de \u2019stracted meetin\u2019 mos\u2019 ober; done been\nprayed fur by ever\u2019 \u2019zorter in de straw, er-groanin\u2019 all de time lack\ner ox er-dyin\u2019, but hit \u2019pear lack he des couldn\u2019 git hit.\n\n\u201cWell, \u2019bout dat time dey put Dave on de watch, an\u2019 de brederin\u2019\ndey tell him dat dey gwine pray on des de same, an\u2019 Brer Jonas, de\nprophesyin\u2019 \u2019zorter, he promise Dave dat if he wrastle mightily wid de\nsperit, he gwine ter see er sign.\n\n\u201cSo ever\u2019 night dey watch, but ever\u2019 night de cream done off de pans\nlack hit were erfore, dough we knows dat Dave hain\u2019t taken hit, \u2019case\nif er nigger ebber gwine ter be hones\u2019, hit would be unner hard\nconviction lack dat Dave was er-wrastlin\u2019 wid.\n\n\u201cOle Miss she ain\u2019 lack de way things is gwine on, an\u2019 she \u2019low one day\ndat we all was mighty po\u2019 niggers, dat cain\u2019t ketch sech er low-down\nt\u2019ief, an\u2019 Dave he was so mizerbul an\u2019 po\u2019ly, \u2019case he\u2019s feared de big\nmeetin\u2019 close \u2019dout he gittin\u2019 \u2019ligion, dat Brer Jonas he say fur Dave\nter leabe Pomp in de Quarters, so\u2019s he kin wrastle erlone wid de sperit\ndown by de spring-house.\n\n\u201cWhen Brer Jonas gib dat out, Dave he see dat Ole Marse\u2019s two boys,\nJohnny an\u2019 Jeems, es fine er pa\u2019r er rascals es ebber toted er\nstone-bruise, been lis\u2019enin\u2019 fru hit all, an\u2019 he see \u2019em fetchin\u2019 in\nsome green watermillions fum de garden \u2019dout yellin\u2019 fur er nigger ter\nkim an\u2019 tote \u2019em in, but he were so mizerbul he don\u2019 tek no notice.\n\n\u201cHit were er mighty dark night de fust time dat Dave watch by hese\u2019f,\nan\u2019 dough hit hain\u2019t gwine rain, de heat light\u2019nin\u2019 streck er match\nnow an\u2019 den, an\u2019 hit mek hit \u2019pear lonesomer ter Dave; but dar hain\u2019t\nnuffin kin pester him, \u2019case he\u2019s unner conviction, an\u2019 he hain\u2019t gwine\nbe erfeared if he see de sign, \u2019case, \u2019cordin\u2019 ter Brer Jonas, hit\ngwine ter be de sign er de promise, an\u2019 if he des kin see hit, he sho\u2019\ngwine know he got \u2019ligion at las\u2019.\n\n\u201cSo Dave he sot on de steps an\u2019 wait. Hit were er mighty solumn,\nfurgitable place whar de spring-house were, an\u2019 bimeby de whup\u2019-wills\n\u2019gin ter call \u2019way ober yander, an\u2019 Dave he \u2019low ter hisse\u2019f dey allus\ndo dat way ter mek lonesome folks feel mo\u2019 lonesomer; den er frog in de\nspring branch right \u2019longsider Dave opin he mouf an\u2019 say sumpen mighty\nshort an\u2019 den shet up, but hit mek dat Dave jump putty nigh outen he\nskin.\n\n\u201cDave sot an\u2019 steddy an\u2019 steddy \u2019bout he sins twel he see sumpen \u2019way\noff yander lack er star, but Dave he hain\u2019t skeered ertall, \u2019case he\nbeen waitin\u2019 all erlong fur de sign. Den he sees supen er-shinin\u2019 lack\ntwo stars, an\u2019 den sumpen white riz up berhin\u2019 \u2019em, an\u2019 Dave he fall\nter stribin\u2019 lack Brer Jonas tell him \u2019bout, an\u2019 de two sumpens kim er\nnigher.\n\n\u201cDave he keep on stribin\u2019, but he stribe wid one eye opin now, an\u2019\nde two sumpens an\u2019 de white thing kim er nigh an\u2019 er nigher. Den he\nfall to stribin\u2019 wid bofe eyes opin now, an\u2019 opin wide, when one er de\nghostes fotch er groan, an\u2019 de white fire kim outen he nose an\u2019 mouf.\n\n\u201cNow Brer Jonas he say fur Dave ter \u2019spute wid de sign when he see\nhit, dat he mout know hit were de true sign, but when Dave see dat\nfire\u2014de berry fire er de debil, he say after\u2019ards, des er burnin\u2019 on de\ninside\u2014he ain\u2019 wait fur ter \u2019spute, but des tek \u2019em es dey looks, an\u2019\nlight out fum dar an\u2019 mek tracks. Dat fool nigger he shake lack he got\nde agur de res\u2019 er dat night, an\u2019 when mornin\u2019 kim he done got \u2019ligion\ngood an\u2019 fas\u2019\u2014plum skeered inter hit\u2014an\u2019 Brer Jonas he \u2019low, sorter\nprivate lack \u2019mongst de bredrin\u2019, but mighty solumn, dough, dat hit\nhain\u2019t de fust time dat he see \u2019ligion kim outen er green watermillion.\nFur hit git out somers, \u2019case Marthy she say dat Ole Marse hab Johnny\nan\u2019 Jeems sont up ter his office one day, when she were dustin\u2019 \u2019roun\u2019,\nan\u2019 she \u2019low she hear Ole Marse say he hain\u2019t gwine hab no sech\ncarryin\u2019s on on his place, er-skeerin\u2019 de niggers inter fits, an\u2019 she\n\u2019low hones\u2019 dat he whup \u2019em bofe, an\u2019 I reckon he did hit, \u2019case Ole\nMarse wa\u2019n\u2019t no han\u2019 ter tek any foolishness.\n\n\u201cBut dey ain\u2019 git Dave back ter watch at de spring-house no mo\u2019, an\u2019 de\ncream goes off de pans worser \u2019n ebber.\n\n\u201cWell, dat triflin\u2019 \u2019Lish he been er-lis\u2019enin\u2019 \u2019roun\u2019, an\u2019 he wanter\npleasure Ole Miss, \u2019case he know she tell Ole Marse \u2019bout hit, an\u2019\nhe ups an\u2019 \u2019low dat he gwine watch at de spring-house, an\u2019 cotch de\nt\u2019ief, an\u2019 he struts \u2019roun\u2019 mighty mannish \u2019bout hit.\n\n\u201cSo \u2019Lish he taken Dave\u2019s place on de watch, an\u2019 lock de door er de\nspring-house an\u2019 gorm up de key-hole wid beeswax, but dat cream was\ngone in de mornin\u2019 des lack hit were erfore. Den \u2019Lish he \u2019low dat hit\nhain\u2019t man ner beast dat taken de cream, but sumpen dat\u2019ll go fru de\ndoor dout opinin\u2019 uv hit; but he \u2019low he hain\u2019t \u2019feared er nuffin.\n\n\u201cSo he goes down ter de branch in de night-time (hit were de dark er de\nmoon), an\u2019 gadder some _he fern seed_ an\u2019 put \u2019em in he Sunday shoes\n(fiel\u2019 han\u2019s don\u2019 w\u2019ar shoes ever\u2019 day), an\u2019 he taken de veil what he\nwere borned wid an\u2019 put hit in he pocket, \u2019case if hit er sperit dat\nhone fur de cream, \u2019Lish know dat he kin view hit now, fur de veil hit\nwork er charm so\u2019s he kin see de ghostes good, an\u2019 de sperits hain\u2019t\ngwine ter fly fum de foots what got de _he fern seed_ in de holler.\n\n\u201cWell, \u2019Lish he des sot an\u2019 wait, an\u2019 ever\u2019thing plum cl\u2019ar ter he eye,\nan\u2019 bimeby he sees er shinin\u2019, an\u2019 sumpen black kim er-sneakin\u2019 an\u2019\ner-sneakin\u2019, an\u2019 hit slips right clost ter de door, an\u2019 \u2019Lish he look\ntwel hit \u2019pear dat de eyes des pop plum outen he head, \u2019case dat black\ncat des stan\u2019 dar an\u2019 wave he tail free times, den go right fru dat\ndoor dat done shet an\u2019 locked, des lack dar wa\u2019n\u2019t no door dar.\u201d\n\n\u201cDen \u2019Lish he git clost up an\u2019 put he year right \u2019gin de wall an\u2019\nhear de water tricklin\u2019 in de trough, but he hear dat cat too, des\ner-lappin\u2019 de cream. He done fin\u2019 de t\u2019ief, but hit wa\u2019n\u2019t no rale cat\nertall, but de debil dat been er-gittin\u2019 dat cream.\n\n\u201cBimeby de cat git ernough an\u2019 sneak out ergin, an\u2019 look \u2019Lish plum in\nde eyes an\u2019 grin es he passes.\n\n\u201cIn de mornin\u2019 \u2019Lish he go up ter de Big House, an\u2019 Ole Miss brag on\nhim fur bein\u2019 smart ernough to fin\u2019 de t\u2019ief, an\u2019 she say dat some un\ngotter kill de black cat.\n\n\u201cNow, white folks ain\u2019 lack niggers\u2014I mean de ole-time niggers. Dey\nhain\u2019t got de ole \u2019he sense\u2019 dat de niggers is got, an\u2019 wid dey\nbook-larnin\u2019 an\u2019 dey fine clo\u2019se an\u2019 things, hit \u2019pear lack dey done\nfurgit what folks _kin_ do an\u2019 what dey _cain\u2019t_, \u2019case nobody kin do\ndes what dey pleases; fur dar\u2019s sumpin des er little bit higher \u2019n\never\u2019body, dat got er rope on em, an\u2019 dey gotter kim when dey feels\nhit pull. But, howsomebber, I\u2019se seen wid my own eyes de white folks\ncuttin\u2019 uv er baby\u2019s finger-nails wid de scissors \u2019stead er bitin\u2019 uv\n\u2019em off, lack \u2019spectable folks, des er makin\u2019 er t\u2019ief fur de jail ter\ncotch, an\u2019 er-laffin\u2019 \u2019bout hit, too. Dey sees er rabbit cross de road\nan\u2019 nebber eben think \u2019bout makin\u2019 uv er cross an\u2019 spittin\u2019 in hit.\nDey\u2019ll look at de new moon ober de lef\u2019 shoulder th\u2019u\u2019 de trees an\u2019\nnebber eben tek time ter say er pra\u2019r back\u2019ards; whilst dey puts on de\nright shoe fust, an\u2019 wonder what\u2019s de matter wid dey business when hit\ngo wrong; an\u2019 dey eben taken dese days ter cuttin\u2019 winders in de house,\nright whilst dey libin\u2019 in hit an\u2019 dey\u2019s \u2019sprised when some er dey\nfolks dies soon, an\u2019 dey calls hit de \u2019wuk er Prov\u2019dence.\u2019 White folks\nsho\u2019 is cuis.\n\n\u201cWell, \u2019Lish he know better; \u2019cordin\u2019 ter de knowledgments er ever\u2019\nsensible nigger, he know hit, an\u2019 he know dat stealin\u2019 de cream was des\ner trick er de debil an\u2019 he sarchin\u2019 fur er humin soul; but \u2019Lish so\nproud \u2019counter Ole Miss praisin\u2019 uv him dat he done turn fool, an\u2019 he\npromise Ole Miss dat he kill dat cat.\n\n\u201cHe steddy \u2019bout hit powerful arter de proud cool off an\u2019 he go ter de\ncabin; but he done gib he promise ter Ole Miss, an\u2019 he cain\u2019t back out.\nHe know dar hain\u2019t nuffin but er rope \u2019ll git yo\u2019 shet uv er black cat,\nleastways he\u2019d er knowed hit if he\u2019d er thunk; but he knowed de bad\nluck hit \u2019ud fotch, so he \u2019low fur ter lay fur de cat an\u2019 hit him wid\ner chunk fust.\n\n\u201cSo dat night de cat kim sho\u2019 \u2019nough ergin, an\u2019 es he crope clost by\n\u2019Lish, he nail him wid de chunk, an\u2019 leabe him kickin\u2019, an\u2019 \u2019low ter\nshow him ter Ole Miss in de mornin\u2019. But when de mornin\u2019 kim dar wa\u2019n\u2019t\nno cat dar, dead er \u2019live, an\u2019 Ole Marse laff an\u2019 say dat \u2019Lish been\ner-dreamin\u2019, but Ole Miss she git sorter mad an\u2019 r\u2019ar \u2019counter de tale\ndat \u2019Lish tell dat he kill de cat.\n\n\u201cWell, \u2019Lish, he hain\u2019t no skeery nigger, he gittin\u2019 smart lack de\nwhite folks; so next night he sets er dead-fall fur de cat, made outen\nheaby timber, an\u2019 he sees de trigger spring an\u2019 de dead-fall drap,\n\u2019bang!\u2019 plum on de cat, \u2019fore he leabe dar. But in de mornin\u2019 dar\nwa\u2019n\u2019t no cat ner dead-fall nuther dar, an\u2019 de cream done gone ergin.\n\n\u201cDe nex\u2019 night but one \u2019Lish steddy an\u2019 steddy, an\u2019 set er steel trap\nfur him. Now er steel trap\u2019s er mighty good trap fur ever\u2019 kin\u2019 er\ncat \u2019ceptin\u2019 er black cat, an\u2019 dat nigger \u2019Lish mout er knowed dat he\nwastin\u2019 he time, \u2019case er steel trap cain\u2019t ebber hol \u2019er black cat;\nbut, anyhow, he sot de steel trap fur him, an\u2019 arter hit snap an\u2019 he\nhear de cat yowl, he go off inter de cabin ter sleep. Me an\u2019 Marthy an\u2019\nDinah heard dat cat er yowlin\u2019, too, but when mornin\u2019 kim dar wa\u2019n\u2019t no\ncat by de spring-house, an\u2019 no cream nuther.\n\n\u201cDen Ole Miss she gib \u2019Lish er gun, an\u2019 he tote de gun so proud dat de\nfiel\u2019 han\u2019s des couldn\u2019 speak ter him. Well, night kim at las\u2019, an\u2019 wid\nhit kim de cat, an\u2019 he look at \u2019Lish an\u2019 grin des er darin\u2019 uv him ter\nshoot him, \u2019case he see he got de gun. But de fool nigger ain\u2019 see dat,\nan\u2019 he tek aim at de shinin\u2019 green eyes an\u2019 fire, \u2019bang!\u2019 an\u2019 ober went\nde cat an\u2019 ober go \u2019Lish, \u2019case de gun done kick him bad. Well, dar\nsot \u2019Lish, an\u2019 dar sot de cat er-grinnin\u2019 an\u2019 wid his eyes er-shinin\u2019\ndes er-waitin\u2019 fur \u2019Lish ter shoot ergin. Den de debil tech him wid de\nfire uv he sperit, an\u2019 \u2019Lish git blin\u2019 mad, an\u2019 he pull de trigger, an\u2019\ndis time he git him, fur de cat keel ober an\u2019 \u2019pear ter die, an\u2019 \u2019Lish\ntaken him by de tail an\u2019 fling him in de bayou.\n\n\u201cIn de mornin\u2019 dar was blood all \u2019bout de spring-house door, but Ole\nMiss she sho\u2019 r\u2019ar dat day, \u2019case not on\u2019y de cream on top was gone but\nhalf de milk in de pans, an\u2019 Ole Miss \u2019low some mighty hard things.\n\n\u201cHit pester \u2019Lish mightily, \u2019case he done \u2019memb\u2019rin\u2019 what he Mammy\nlarn him mighty fas\u2019, but Ole Miss she got her dander up now, an\u2019\nshe say she hain\u2019t gwine ter stan\u2019 all dis foolishness des \u2019bout de\nkillin\u2019 uv er little black cat, an\u2019 \u2019Lish, he were sech er big plum\nfool nigger, he gwine ter gib up he knowledgments des fur de pleasurin\u2019\nuv Ole Miss. But if he think bad luck gwine skip anybody dat hunt fur\nhit wid bofe eyes opin he reckon mighty po\u2019 \u2019bout luck. So he p\u2019intedly\nwrastled wid hit, twel he \u2019low ter hisse\u2019f dat he allus been lucky an\u2019\nallus gwine ter be, an\u2019 den he des gits down ter business, an\u2019 greases\na rope fur ter mek hit slick, an\u2019 hides hit unbeknownst in de cabin ter\nwait fur night, \u2019case he know de niggers be all plum ergin him if dey\nknow he gwine hang er black cat.\n\n\u201cLate in de ebenin\u2019 he go whistlin\u2019 down ter de spring-house, arter\nDinah an\u2019 Marthy done put erway de milk, an\u2019 he ben\u2019 down er limb uv er\nlittle hick\u2019ry saplin\u2019 an\u2019 cut hit twel he git er swingin\u2019 fork fur ter\nnoose de rope in.\n\n\u201cI\u2019se heared \u2019Lish tell erbout hit many\u2019s de time. Well, he \u2019low dat\nes he work sumpen des \u2019pear ter git inter him, an\u2019 he whistle an\u2019\nwhistle, an\u2019 den he couldn\u2019t keep his ole feets still, but des lit\ninter dancing in front er de spring-house lack mad, an\u2019 all de time,\nunbeknownst, dat black cat des er-watchin\u2019 uv him up er tree.\n\n\u201cBimeby he des hatter set down, \u2019case he done danced all de bref outen\nhim, an\u2019 he feels mighty cuis, \u2019case es he set dar in de dark hit \u2019pear\nlack all he ebber done\u2014all de little good, an\u2019 all de whole heap er low\ndown, sneakin\u2019 things dat he done furgit erbout\u2014kim er-swimmin\u2019 erfore\nhis eyes, des ter mek him tek notice uv \u2019em. Hit were er warnin\u2019, sho\u2019,\n\u2019case hit were de _sperit_ er \u2019Lish, prophesyin\u2019 ter de po\u2019 weak flesh\ner de _man_ \u2019Lish, but de man \u2019Lish cain\u2019t unnerstan\u2019 what de sperit\n\u2019Lish mean, an\u2019 hit mek him plum mizerbul.\n\n\u201cBut arter while de cat kim er-sneakin\u2019 erlong, wid he eyes des\ner-shinin\u2019 white an\u2019 red an\u2019 green, lack de fox-fire in de swamp. When\nhe sees \u2019Lish, he quoil he tail keerful lack an\u2019 sot down an\u2019 look\nat him erwhile, an\u2019 he look an\u2019 look, so knowin\u2019, twel hit mek de\ngoose bumps fa\u2019r riz up on \u2019Lish\u2019s back; den he git tired er settin\u2019,\nan\u2019 whisk dat ole long tail er his\u2019n at \u2019Lish an\u2019 go on inter de\nspring-house, des er darin\u2019 \u2019Lish ter foller.\n\n\u201cDen \u2019Lish \u2019pear ter git sorter flustered, \u2019case he done furgit ter\nwork de charm \u2019gin de debil, but go right inter de spring-house an\u2019\ncornder de cat an\u2019 fling de greased rope ober he head. De cat he \u2019ain\u2019\nshow no fight now, but des grin an\u2019 sink he ole long white teef plum\ninter \u2019Lish\u2019s han\u2019, but dar hain\u2019t no blood drawed, \u2019case black cat\nnebber draws blood, but des sink p\u2019is\u2019n deep down on de eends er dey\nteef. \u2019Lish think \u2019bout dat, an\u2019 he feared ter put he han\u2019 in he mouf\nfur ter suck de p\u2019is\u2019n outen hit; but he know he in fur hit now, an\u2019 so\nhe draw dat noose tighter an\u2019 tighter.\n\n\u201cNow er black cat won\u2019t holler when yo\u2019 hangs him, if hit er rale black\ncat, \u2019case hit\u2019s mostly de debil dat is er-w\u2019arin\u2019 uv er black cat\u2019s\nskin when he wanter \u2019do erbout,\u2019 \u2019case he know no hones\u2019-minded pusson\nis gwine ter dribe erway er cat. So de debil he set by de warm hearth,\nin de skin er de black cat, an\u2019 purr an\u2019 purr, an\u2019 hear all de secrets\ner de fambly, an\u2019 things dat passes twixt man an\u2019 man an\u2019 man an\u2019 wife,\n\u2019dout anybody tekin\u2019 notice; an\u2019 dat how things go singin\u2019 roun\u2019 an\u2019\ndar hain\u2019t nobody tole \u2019em.\n\n\u201cBut dar\u2019s one thing dat yo\u2019 kin put in yo\u2019 pipe an\u2019 smoke; we\u2019s all\ngot our match somers, dar\u2019s sumpen gwine ter ketch up wid de fastes\u2019,\nan\u2019 dat why de black cat \u2019ain\u2019 show no fight \u2019gin er rope.\n\n\u201cWell, \u2019Lish he tightens de noose an\u2019 fling de eend er de rope ober de\nswingin\u2019 fork, an\u2019 tie hit dar, an\u2019 sot an\u2019 wait. De cat he grin an\u2019\ngrin at \u2019Lish; he kin see de teef by de light er de eyes dat des shoot\nsparks, an\u2019 hit \u2019pear lack dem eyes des charm \u2019Lish lack er snake, fur\nhis\u2019n plum sot on de cat\u2019s, an\u2019 he cain\u2019t tek \u2019em off.\n\n\u201cDen sumpen happin dat mek \u2019Lish\u2019s blood fa\u2019r rin cole an\u2019 he hair ter\nstan\u2019 right up an\u2019 straighten out, es kinky es hit were; fur \u2019Lish he\nhear er voice \u2019hine de cat somers, an\u2019 he know hit were de cat, dough\nde ole cat\u2019s tongue was des er hangin\u2019 out. Den hit \u2019pear lack dar were\ntwo cats, den free cats, den de air hit \u2019pear ter be plum full er cats,\nan\u2019 dey all opin dey moufs an\u2019 says de same thing all at de same time;\n\u2019Lish say hit were des lack thunder. He hain\u2019t nebber, nebber tole what\nde cats gib out\u2014he allus shiver an\u2019 \u2019low he cain\u2019t, so we all hain\u2019t\nebber know. But all dis time de hung cat was des er-grinnin\u2019 at \u2019Lish.\n\n\u201cDat cat sho\u2019 dead dis time\u2014dar wa\u2019n\u2019t no \u2019sputin\u2019 \u2019bout dat, dough dat\nwa\u2019n\u2019t no sign dat de debil done gone back ter his own. But arter de\nair git cl\u2019ar fum de odder cats, \u2019Lish taken de hung cat down an\u2019 hide\nde rope in de bayou, \u2019case he don\u2019 want de niggers ter know he hang er\nblack cat, an\u2019 es he lock de door, he know de cream done safe now, an\u2019\ndar hain\u2019t nuffin gwine ter pester hit no mo\u2019.\n\n\u201cOle Miss mek mighty much er \u2019Lish, an\u2019 Ole Marse brags on him, but it\ndon\u2019 \u2019pear ter do \u2019Lish much good; fur we cain\u2019t hide nuffin fum de\ntruf, an\u2019 what er nigger do wrong in de dark, gwine ter be onkivered in\nde daylight, an\u2019 hit hain\u2019t gwin ter be er cloudy day, sho\u2019s yo\u2019 born.\nEr sin is one er de bes\u2019 keepin\u2019 things on dis here yeth; hit hain\u2019t er\ngwine ter spile in de keepin\u2019, an\u2019 when dey onkiver hit, hit \u2019ll be des\nes safe an\u2019 soun\u2019 de day arter de Jedgment es you kin fin\u2019 hit ter-day;\nan\u2019 dat nigger he know he \u2019mittin\u2019 er sin \u2019gin de \u2019ligion er he Mammy\nwhen he kill dat cat.\n\n\u201cBut de bad luck dat he hunted fur kim on him putty fas\u2019 arter dat; fur\nde day lackin\u2019 one arter he hang de cat, er muel he were ridin\u2019 ter de\nfiel\u2019\u2014er ole, slow, jog-trottin\u2019, sleepy muel\u2014git de debil in her an\u2019\nfrow him an\u2019 break he leg.\n\n\u201cDen he taken wid de browncreeturs in he thote \u2019fore he git fru dat,\nan\u2019 hab er powerful hard time. Ole Miss think he gwinter die, but de\ndebil hain\u2019t gwinter let him die, he gwinter mek him mo\u2019 painful\nyit. Den he taken wid de arysipulous in de lame leg, an\u2019 some call\nhit scrofulow an\u2019 some call hit des arysipulous; but, anyhow, he seed\nsights wid hit, dough Ole Miss doctors on him so hard dat he git shet\nuv hit.\n\n\u201cDen de new wife she leabe him, \u2019case when he able ter set up she pick\nhit outen him dat he kill de black cat des ter pleasure Ole Miss, an\u2019\nKeziah don\u2019 want de bad luck, \u2019case hit de ten-year luck, an\u2019 de Lord\non\u2019y know whar hit gwinter stop. An\u2019 las\u2019ly \u2019Lish were taken wid de\nmiz\u2019ry in de chist. Well, dat las\u2019 pester Ole Miss mightily, an\u2019 she do\nwhat she kin fur bofe de ailments. She try ter git dat gal ter go back\nter \u2019Lish\u2014she try ter \u2019suade her an\u2019 ter buy her, an\u2019 she mek plarsters\nfur \u2019Lish\u2019s chist all de time \u2019dout doin\u2019 any good\u2014fur dat Keziah she\nlub good luck better \u2019n she lub \u2019Lish, an\u2019 de plarsters uv er good\n\u2019oman lack Ole Miss cain\u2019t work \u2019gin de debil.\n\n\u201cWell, twixt all de things dat \u2019Lish is got an\u2019 ain\u2019 got, he w\u2019ar so\npo\u2019ly dat he git rale ashy, an\u2019 hit \u2019pear lack de skin des sticks ter\nde bones, an\u2019 he set by hisse\u2019f, \u2019case he hain\u2019t stout ernough ter work\nnone now, an\u2019 talk ter somebody we cain\u2019t see, all de time. He \u2019low hit\nfollers uv him, an\u2019 set down by him when he goes ter sleep uv nights,\nan\u2019 ain\u2019 let him git shet uv hit er minute.\n\n\u201cOle Miss she git de fambly doctor now ter come an\u2019 physic on \u2019Lish,\nfur she hear de singin\u2019 \u2019roun\u2019 \u2019mongst de niggers, an\u2019 she know what\ndey think, an\u2019 she feel \u2019sponsible.\n\n\u201cBut hit \u2019pear lack de doctor mek \u2019Lish worser, an\u2019 Ole Miss she \u2019low\nshe ain\u2019 know what ter do.\n\n\u201cDen \u2019Lish he w\u2019ar so low dat Abe, what were de carpenter, he gib out\ndat he gwine mek er coffin fur \u2019Lish, so\u2019s ter be ready fur him when he\ndie, an\u2019 Ole Miss she feel mighty bad, \u2019case she \u2019member now de tales\nher black Mammy usen ter tole her when she were little. Fur er white\nchile ain\u2019 ebber gwine ter furgit \u2019em if dey lis\u2019ens ter \u2019em right an\u2019\ndey got er good black Mammy.\n\n\u201cSo when Ole Miss an\u2019 de white folks\u2019 doctor des plum gib hit up, Unc\u2019\nC\u00e6sar he limp up ter de Big House, wid his white head bare, an\u2019 ax Ole\nMiss mout he work on \u2019Lish.\n\n\u201cOle Miss know Unc\u2019 C\u00e6sar \u2019sponsible\u2019 an\u2019 she say he mout, an\u2019 he limp\noff inter he cabin \u2019dout sayin\u2019 er word, eben ter Ole Miss, an\u2019 shot to\nde door, an\u2019 button hit on de inside.\n\n\u201cEr mighty cuis smoke kim outen Unc\u2019 C\u00e6sar\u2019s chimbly dat ebenin\u2019, an\u2019\nall de niggers say he fixin\u2019 sumpen; but we ain\u2019 know what, \u2019case Unc\u2019\nC\u00e6sar were er hoodoo an\u2019 work wid charms. But he go inter \u2019Lish cabin,\nan\u2019 shot de door to an\u2019 button hit on de inside, an\u2019 do sumpen ter\n\u2019Lish.\n\n\u201cDat night he taken \u2019Lish an\u2019 set him in er cheer outside de cabin,\nan\u2019 \u2019Lish fetch his kivers outside, \u2019case he ain\u2019 know what Unc\u2019 C\u00e6sar\ngwine do.\n\n\u201cUnc\u2019 C\u00e6sar ain\u2019 say er word, but he taken er live chunk fum de hearth\nan\u2019 sot fire ter de cabin, an\u2019 es she blaze up high he mek passes wid\nhis long arms an\u2019 say sumpen low, mumblin\u2019 lack. Den when de blaze \u2019gin\nter die down he taken \u2019Lish\u2019s kivers an\u2019 flings\u2019 em on, an\u2019 es de fire\nclomb high ergin he snatch ever\u2019 rag dat \u2019Lish got on him an\u2019 flings\n\u2019em on, an\u2019 swing he long arms ober he head; den, des es de flames lick\nde highes\u2019, he taken de rope dat he mek \u2019Lish creep down ter de bayou\nter fin\u2019 an\u2019 fling hit on, an\u2019 dar were er power er quare-lookin\u2019 smoke\nin de Quarters, an\u2019 all de niggers kim er runnin\u2019 an\u2019 b\u2019ar witness.\n\n\u201cDen \u2019Lish, des es naked as er new-borned baby, fall down an\u2019 foam an\u2019\nfoam at de mouf, but Unc\u2019 C\u00e6sar won\u2019 let nobody tech him.\n\n\u201cDey all stan\u2019 an\u2019 wait, des er hol\u2019in\u2019 dey brefs ter see what gwine\nhappin, an\u2019 bimeby de blaze hit die an\u2019 de smoke cl\u2019ar \u2019way, an\u2019 dar\nwa\u2019n\u2019t nuffin lef\u2019 but er little pile er ashes, an\u2019 de niggers falls\nter whisperin\u2019, ercusin\u2019 Unc\u2019 C\u00e6sar fur burnin\u2019 up po\u2019 sick \u2019Lish\u2019s\ncabin an\u2019 his kivers; when Unc\u2019 C\u00e6sar he p\u2019int one long arm wid er\nlong, shakin\u2019 finger, an\u2019 say: \u2019Look!\u2019\u2014an\u2019, bless goodness! right dar\nin de middle er de pile er hot ashes dat des still er-smould\u2019rin\u2019, sot\nde berry same ole black cat, des er-grinnin\u2019 fitten ter bust.\n\n\u201cDe niggers dey was skeered, an\u2019 dey ain\u2019 know what ter do, but dey\nfotch one shout fur \u2019glory!\u2019 an\u2019 dat nigger \u2019Lish he fall ter prayin\u2019\ngood, \u2019case he know dat de cuss er de debil was offen him now, an\u2019 de\nsoul an\u2019 de body was free.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n \u2019LIZA\n\n\n\u201cDar wa\u2019n\u2019t no tickler pusson nowhar \u2019n \u2019Liza\u2019s Maw, Bithie,\u201d said\nMammy, as she drew the basket of wool within reach and took up her\ncards.\n\n\u201cDar wa\u2019n\u2019t no \u2019tickler pusson \u2019n Bithie, slave time ner free; but de\nway dat \u2019Liza git \u2019way wid her one time were er caution.\n\n\u201c\u2018Liza hain\u2019t nebber been seed but oncet sence, nuther, an\u2019 den hit\nwere only fur er minute, an\u2019 she didn\u2019 speak ter nobody, ner gib out\nnuffin, but des look plum mizerbul an\u2019 po\u2019ly. Mus\u2019 be mighty ole now,\nif she\u2019s libin\u2019, which I \u2019specs she am, fur Unc\u2019 \u2019Jah say dat bein\u2019 de\nway dat \u2019Liza git ter be by her own sinnin\u2019, dey cain\u2019t ebber die, much\nes dey wanter, an\u2019 I knows dat wharebber \u2019Liza am, dat she shore wanter\ndie,\u201d added Mammy, mysteriously, as the long soft roll grew under her\nmanipulation. There was a chorus of questions from the quilters who\nbent over the frame, but Mammy freed the roll and laid fresh wool\nbetween her cards before she spoke again.\n\n\u201cA-a-h, lawsy!\u2014dis ole worl\u2019 hain\u2019t no better \u2019n hit uster was, but I\ndon\u2019 spec\u2019 de Lord gwine let hit git no wusser\u2014he des gwine min\u2019 his\nown bus\u2019ness, an\u2019 let hit clean hitself lack mos\u2019 t\u2019ings in natur\u2019\ndoes!\u201d\n\n\u201cTell us about \u2019Liza, Mammy!\u201d came in chorus from the quilt.\n\n\u201cWell well\u2014arter while,\u201d said Mammy. \u201cWait twel de chillen git ter bed,\nfur de tale er what \u2019Liza do, hain\u2019t fitten fur de years er chillen,\nes powerful knowin\u2019 es dey is,\u201d and Mammy sighed again, then worked in\nsilence, wrapped in deepest contemplation.\n\nSo the quilters told their own tales, merry and bright at first, but as\nthe evening wore away they were ghostly and more mysterious, until the\nlast row of shells in the frame were being rolled\u2014then the quilt was\ntaken out, and cider and gingerbread was set upon the table.\n\nFresh wood was piled upon the smouldering back log, as the quilters\ndrew up to the fire with laden hands, and Mammy, waking from\nher reverie, laid aside her cards and smoothed her apron down,\npreparatory. There was always a great deal of ceremony about Mammy\u2019s\npreparations, for her art was not hackneyed by frequent repetition, and\nthis was the story she told to the quilters:\n\nBithie was the only child of Marse Dick\u2019s \u2019Riah, and Bithie\u2019s \u2019Liza,\na seventh daughter, was born with a veil, besides coming at a time\nwhen Bithie had long ceased to look for any more children; so when\nthey brought her to Unc\u2019 Caspar, who was a hoodoo and was given to\nprophesying, Unc\u2019 Caspar took her in his arms and looked long and\nearnestly into her face.\n\nNow most babies, even from the day of their birth, would have been awed\nby the eye of Unc\u2019 Caspar, for children can see the truth easier than\ngrown people; but as young as \u2019Liza was, she caught his long white\nbeard in her fists and crowed. Then Unc\u2019 Caspar laid her down and shook\nhis head ominously at such early disrespect. Some were bold enough to\nassert that he put a curse upon \u2019Liza, then and there; but certain it\nis that Bithie took a chill while he spoke, for, instead of giving the\nbaby his blessing, Unc\u2019 Caspar was fretting over the tweaking of his\nbeard.\n\n\u201cDis chile,\u201d he said, pointing with his long finger at the new moon\nshining through the clearing, \u201cam born fur powerful good er powerful\nebil\u2014but I seed _dis_ fru de trees, an\u2019 I\u2019se feared uv her\u2014I\u2019se feared!\u201d\n\nBithie was Ole Miss\u2019s seamstress, and the seventh daughter was made\nmuch of at the \u201cBig House,\u201d but Bithie was troubled about Unc\u2019 Caspar\u2019s\ncurse upon her child, and at night she lay awake thinking about\nit\u2014though \u2019Liza throve and grew strong, in spite of Bithie\u2019s misgivings\nand Unc\u2019 Caspar\u2019s curse, and was as likely a little pickaninny as Ole\nMarse ever owned, and as Ole Miss told Bithie, when she had sobbed out\nher tale of woe.\n\n\u201cBut she got the beatenest temper, Ole Miss,\u201d moaned Bithie, \u201can\u2019 I\ncain\u2019t git de upper han\u2019 uv her, whup her hard\u2019s ebber I kin, twel I\u2019se\nplum wore out. Nebber seed sech er muel uv er nigger, an\u2019, little es\nshe am, she see t\u2019ings dat I hain\u2019t see, in de light an\u2019 in de dark,\nan\u2019 she hollers out an\u2019 talk ter \u2019em, an\u2019 hit mek my blood fa\u2019r rin\ncole\u2014hit do, Ole Miss!\u201d\n\n\u201cHush! that\u2019s all stuff and nonsense, Bithie!\u201d said Ole Miss; \u201cbut\nnever mind the temper, it will all come right by-and-by.\u201d\n\nBut it did not come right, according to Bithie\u2019s standard; and when\n\u2019Liza was about a year old Bithie could stand it no longer, so she\nconsulted old Maumer, who dealt in charms and cungers, about the taking\naway of Unc\u2019 Caspar\u2019s curse, for \u2019Liza had had a fit and frothed at\nthe mouth. Every one, even Ole Miss, said that it was \u2019Liza\u2019s teeth;\nbut Bithie knew better, and on her knees she swore to barter to Maumer\neverything of value that she possessed if Maumer would but work upon\nthe curse.\n\nThen Maumer brewed a mysterious, greasy compound to rub on \u2019Liza\u2019s\ngums, and made a necklace of the small twigs of the prickly ash, and,\nstringing an alligator\u2019s tooth with it, she wound it around the child\u2019s\nneck three times.\n\n\u2019Liza had no more fits, but in spite of the charm her temper showed\nno signs of mending, and Maumer, though she kept all of Bithie\u2019s\ntreasures, gave up the case in despair.\n\n\u201cI cain\u2019t wuk \u2019gin Unc\u2019 Caspar,\u201d she acknowledged, \u201cfur he\u2019s too\nstrong. Unc\u2019 Caspar er powerful hoodoo, but I is, too, an\u2019 I wuk an\u2019 he\nwuk, an\u2019 de charm ole Maumer wuk des lock ho\u2019ns wid his\u2019n an\u2019 stan\u2019 dar\ngrinnin\u2019 at one nudder. I cain\u2019t tek hit off, but es long es I wuks,\nUnc\u2019 Caspar\u2019s charm cain\u2019t kill her; but you better let dat chile\n\u2019lone, Bithie, lessen you kin git Unc\u2019 Caspar ter call back de cuss.\u201d\n\nSo Bithie stifled her sorrow and tried to believe Ole Miss, and all\nof her spare time she spent in making dainty clothes for her seventh\ndaughter, out of the things that Ole Miss had given her. The other six\nmight go ragged, half clothed, and dirty, as far as she was concerned,\nbut the child under the curse must be dressed like a \u201clady.\u201d\n\nThe day that Ole Miss sent for \u2019Liza to come to the \u201cBig House\u201d was\nan event in Bithie\u2019s cabin, for none of Bithie\u2019s children had been so\nhonored before, and \u2019Liza was now old enough to play with Ole Miss\u2019s\nlittle ones.\n\n\u2019Liza\u2019s round, black face shone with all the polish that hot water and\nsoft-soap could give; her blue-checked pinafore was spotlessly neat,\nand the tight \u201cwraps\u201d of woolly hair that latticed the little round\nhead actually bore a scarlet ribbon where they joined.\n\n\u201cMin\u2019, \u2019Liza, dat you says \u2019Ma\u2019am\u2019 an\u2019 \u2019Yas, Sar\u2019 ter dem chillen, if\ndey is littler \u2019n you, \u2019case dey\u2019s you\u2019 little marster and mistiss,\u201d\nsaid Bithie, bridling with importance.\n\nBut Bithie\u2019s pride was short-lived, for \u2019Liza proved to be a marplot\namong the children, and, after less than half an hour of service,\nshe was whisked away to the Quarters by Betty, the second nurse, who\n\u201c\u2019clared ter gracious, dat I\u2019d druther tame er rattler \u2019n tame Bithie\u2019s\n\u2019Liza!\u201d\n\nWith the pickaninnies it was the same; bolder with those of her own\ncolor, there was always a wail when \u2019Liza was about, and at last old\nMaumer boxed her ears and sent her away from the nursery, so, as little\nas she was, there was nothing left for \u2019Liza but to go to the field.\nThere she brewed mischief afresh, and the threat and whip of the\noverseer were as nothing to her, for toads and lizards would leap from\nher sack when the cotton came to be weighed, and she kept the Quarters\nalways on the alert for some of her uglier pranks. It was even said\nthat the lash of the overseer upon her back produced no welt, but that\nshe laughed in his face while he sweated, for she was under a charm.\n\nAs the time passed, a comelier negro girl than \u2019Liza would have been\nhard to find, and Bithie, proud, though mourning, lavished her little\nall upon her; but her child was nobody\u2019s friend, saving perhaps Unc\u2019\nCaspar\u2019s and his son\u2019s. To them alone she told her joys and her\nsorrows, and Bithie looked aghast at the duckling she had hovered.\n\n\u201cHit wouldn\u2019 erbeen so bad,\u201d she confided to Maumer, whose charm had\nlong ceased to even \u201clock horns\u201d with Unc\u2019 Caspar\u2019s, \u201cif she hadn\u2019\ner taken right ter dem what sot de cuss\u2014an\u2019\u2014Unc\u2019 Caspar des stan\u2019 up\nan\u2019 \u2019nies de truf, an\u2019 say he nebber sot er cuss, an\u2019 ax my ole man\nfur \u2019Liza fur his boy, ter probe hit,\u201d said Bithie, with a sigh. \u201cDo\nsumpen, Maumer, fur de lub er Gord\u2014do sumpen, fur I des es lief dat\n\u2019Liza \u2019d mairey wid de debil!\u201d\n\n\u201cHit were des dem words dat Bithie oughter et,\u201d said Mammy, moving\ncloser to the fire; \u201cshe oughter bit her tongue out \u2019fore she let dat\nloose, fur she sot de cuss er-gwine, an\u2019 flung de bid ter de debil, an\u2019\nde debil tuk hit up, an\u2019 now hit were hoodoo \u2019gin debil, an\u2019 debil \u2019gin\nhoodoo, an\u2019 \u2019Liza were de bone!\u201d\n\nIt was about the season, according to the thoughtful, that the devil\nwas loose upon the earth for his yearly recreation, and, what with love\naffairs of white and black, and \u201cmisery charms\u201d in the Quarters, he had\nenough on the one plantation to have kept him leisurely working for six\nmonths; but he was resolved to hasten matters, for there were other\npleasures awaiting him.\n\nAll this time Unc\u2019 Caspar was asking for \u2019Liza for his boy; sometimes\nthreatening, sometimes pleading; so when the devil came and Unc\u2019 Caspar\nhad \u201cgotten out of his skin\u201d more than once to oblige him, the hoodoo\nmade mention of the affair, and told also of the curse which Bithie\nbelieved that he had set upon \u2019Liza.\n\nThis made the devil look about, and when he had seen \u2019Liza and Unc\u2019\nCaspar pressed him for a comment, he cleared his throat and said,\ncautiously, \u201cWe\u2019ll see about it.\u201d\n\nJust about that time, came the dance of the hoodoos at the dark of the\nmoon, and in the flare of the torches the devil and Unc\u2019 Caspar stood\ndisguised, in the doorway of a cabin, and looked on; and as \u2019Liza led\nthe dance, with her face distorted with ecstatic passion and swaying\nher body almost to the ground, Unc\u2019 Caspar again pressed the devil for\na comment; but again the devil cleared his throat, and said, \u201cWe\u2019ll\nsee.\u201d\n\nThat night Unc\u2019 Caspar dreamed a dream, and in it he saw the world\nsplit in half, and his boy Amaziah stood with him on one side and the\ndevil and \u2019Liza on the other. There was a bottomless pit between, and\nlo! in the dream, the devil\u2019s eyes were fixed upon him, and the flame\nburned into Unc\u2019 Caspar\u2019s sockets. Then Unc\u2019 Caspar minded him of the\ngraveyard sand that he wore in his pocket, and, catching it up, he\nthrew it into the devil\u2019s eyes, so that he was blinded and writhed with\npain.\n\nThen Unc\u2019 Caspar, in his dream, fixed his gaze on \u2019Liza, and drew her\nwith his eye; and, swinging her arms around her head three times, she\nstooped and reaching across the pit, plucked three white hairs from\nUnc\u2019 Caspar\u2019s beard; then, catching the long end of the beard with both\nhands, she swung across to the other side and laid her hand upon his\narm. Amaziah looked, then howled three times, and loped away in the\nform of a yellow dog.\n\nWell, said Mammy, after the dream, Unc\u2019 Caspar talked no more of the\nwedding of \u2019Liza and Amaziah, but sat and rolled his white beard in his\npalm and looked at \u2019Liza.\n\nAnd Amaziah pressed his own suit, and urged Bithie to let him marry\n\u2019Liza; but Bithie was afraid to promise on account of Unc\u2019 Caspar\u2019s\ncurse and afraid not to promise, and grew so thin over thinking about\nit at night that Ole Miss gave her a tonic of vinegar and rusty nails.\n\nThe dark of the moon again was near, and this was the time for shadowy\nwork; so Unc\u2019 Caspar sat and plucked his beard, and, forgetful of his\nduty to his son, dreamed that he had married \u2019Liza. All through the day\nhe dreamed, while the negroes were in the field, while they harrowed,\nploughed, and sowed, for Unc\u2019 Caspar was manumitted and his time was\nhis own; and the devil, stirring the green water of the bayou, laughed\naloud that Unc\u2019 Caspar had changed his mind.\n\nBut the passion grew and grew, and one dark night, when the wind in\nthe swamp-willows was still and there was scarce a ripple, even out to\nthe middle of the river, Unc\u2019 Caspar took \u2019Liza down to the bank, and,\nmaking a mist to rise, showed \u2019Liza, through the mist, the treasures of\nthe earth.\n\nUp from the bed of the river rose a great white house, with its massive\npillars shadowy but true, and its white curtains swinging outward to\nthe mist.\n\nThen around her form Unc\u2019 Caspar wound a cloth of silk and pearls; and\non her ankles and wrists golden bands gleamed even through the dark\nnight and the mist; in her ears were the great gold rings of an African\nprincess, and round and round her neck Unc\u2019 Caspar wound the beads\nthat shone like stars.\n\nFor a moment the hoodoo paused, that \u2019Liza might look well; then,\nwithout breaking the silence, he stood behind the girl, waving for the\nmystery to disappear, and the great white house slipped into the bed\nof the river, the cloth of pearl and gold dropped away, the beads that\nshone like stars faded, and there was only a broken fish-net around\n\u2019Liza\u2019s shoulders and wisps of river reeds on her wrists. Through the\ndark came the voice of the hoodoo:\n\n\u201cOle Caspar rich\u2014ole Caspar free\u2014all dis gwine be yourn if yo\u2019 des\nmairey Caspar.\u201d\n\nBut \u2019Liza shivered under the damp fish-net, and asked Unc\u2019 Caspar to\ngive her time.\n\nIn the long night she alternately laughed and wept and wrung her hands.\n\n\u201cWhich I gwine ter do? Which I gwine ter tek\u2014de ole un er de young un?\u201d\nshe cried.\n\n\u201cDat,\u201d said Mammy, \u201cwere de sperrits er good an\u2019 ebil stribin\u2019 in her,\nbut she nebber eben call de name er de Lord, so she needn\u2019 \u2019spec\u2019 no\nhe\u2019p.\u201d\n\nThe glitter of the gorgeous thing was still in \u2019Liza\u2019s mind, but\nthrough it all would rise the ugly, wrinkled face of Unc\u2019 Caspar;\nbut Unc\u2019 Caspar was rich\u2014Unc\u2019 Caspar had houses and gold. Then out\nof the dark would leap the form of the young Amaziah, stretching his\ngreat, strong arms towards her, even though the veil of the white beard\nfloated between them.\n\nBut by daybreak \u2019Liza had made up her mind, and Bithie, pale and ashen,\nbound a plantain leaf to her own forehead and chanted a death song from\nher cabin.\n\nAll day Ole Miss waited for Bithie, but Bithie had forgotten the world.\nIn vain old Maumer anointed her with salves to break the spell of\nfrenzy, still the death chant wailed from the cabin, and Bithie would\nnot be comforted.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe plantation thrilled with the news of \u2019Liza\u2019s coming marriage to the\nhoodoo, who was old enough to be her grandfather. The gossips wagged\nit, and the old men smoked it in their pipes. Even the pickaninnies\ndrew it into their play, and sang, with a newly invented shuffle:\n\n \u201cLawsy mussy, what \u2019Liza hab done,\n Maired de ole man instid uv he son.\u201d\n\nAnd Unc\u2019 Caspar, leaning on his stick, hastened \u2019Liza for the wedding,\nand for bridal trickery bored the pearly shells of the river mussel\nand strung them on his beard; and every night, to make \u2019Liza surer in\nher mind, he would make the mist to rise and show her the treasures\nthat were to be hers on her wedding-day.\n\nBy-and-by, under the spell that Unc\u2019 Caspar wrought, Bithie ceased from\nthe death song, and, rising from her bed, she stole from Ole Miss\u2019s\narmoire a bolt of sheeny satin to make into a wonderful gown for \u2019Liza,\nand Unc\u2019 Caspar bored shells again, and Bithie sat up all night to\nborder the hem of \u2019Liza\u2019s wedding-dress with them.\n\nThese days Unc\u2019 Caspar was busy too, for down in the swamp-willows\nAmaziah lay in a trance, and no one came to help him. He was to lie in\nthe trance until after the wedding, when the hoodoo dance would waken\nhim; and so Unc\u2019 Caspar cut down with his charms everything that might\ncome between him and \u2019Liza.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe new moon, said Mammy, was nearly born, and the devil\u2019s time on\nearth was short. Again he sat by the sluggish water of the bayou and\nstirred it with a stick, and out of it came the moccasins, the eels,\nand the toads to do his bidding. He whistled low, and from the trees\nthe bat, the owl, the jay-bird, and the crow answered the call of their\nmaster; and there, in his heart, the devil envied Unc\u2019 Caspar and\nwanted \u2019Liza.\n\nIn the form of a bat he flew down Unc\u2019 Caspar\u2019s chimney, and borrowing\nUnc\u2019 Caspar\u2019s skin as he slept, he hid the naked body in the hollow of\na tree and went back into the hoodoo\u2019s cabin to sleep.\n\nWhen morning came he stood beside \u2019Liza as she worked, and hastened\nher for the wedding; and \u2019Liza, looking at the wrinkled face and white\nbeard, believed that she was looking at Unc\u2019 Caspar.\n\nSo they set the wedding-night, and Bithie\u2019s old man, under the spell of\nthe devil in Unc\u2019 Caspar\u2019s skin, stole four hogs and three sheep from\nOle Marse, and made a great barbecue for the wedding-supper.\n\nBut \u2019Liza wept that the time was drawing near, for in her heart she\nloved Amaziah. Then the devil, in Unc\u2019 Caspar\u2019s skin, raised a heavier\nmist and showed her greater treasures than Unc\u2019 Caspar had done, until\nher tears were dried, for \u2019Liza was part covetous and part hoodoo, said\nMammy.\n\nThe devil was overstaying his limit by this time, waiting for the\nwedding. But at last the night came, and there was a gathering from far\nand near to see the marriage.\n\nBithie rose as in a dream, and dressed \u2019Liza in the long satin gown,\nand the tears gleamed like pearls upon it as they fell from her eyes,\nfor Bithie was sure that something was wrong.\n\nOutside the voice of the parson was calling to \u2019Liza, and \u2019Liza passed\nthrough the doorway and stood up with the devil in Unc\u2019 Caspar\u2019s skin\nto be married.\n\nThe gathered people held their breath, and the parson raised his hand\nand spoke. The devil made as if he would answer, but the skin of Unc\u2019\nCaspar cried out.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s dat?\u201d asked \u2019Liza, opening her eyes wide.\n\n\u201cNuffin\u2019 but er little bird cryin\u2019 in de nes\u2019, my darlin\u2019,\u201d whispered\nthe devil.\n\nAgain the parson spoke, and again the devil made as if to answer him,\nbut the skin of Unc\u2019 Caspar stretched and cracked, and all the people\nheard it.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s dat?\u201d cried \u2019Liza, trembling and taking hold of the devil\u2019s arm\nin her fright.\n\n\u201cNuffin\u2019 but er coon trampin\u2019 in de cane-brake,\u201d whispered the devil.\n\n\u201cWho teks dis \u2019oman?\u201d said the parson, impatient to go on, for he\nsmelled the barbecue, and knew that the supper was ready, waiting.\n\n\u201cI do,\u201d said the devil, growing bold, as the skin of Unc\u2019 Caspar cried\nand cracked and burst\u2014and the hoof and the horns came through, and\nthere stood the devil grinning at \u2019Liza through Unc\u2019 Caspar\u2019s skin,\nuntil the lights were thrown down.\n\nThen, said Mammy, all was dark; nobody raised a hand. \u2019Liza\u2019s screams\ngrew fainter and fainter, and then all was still.\n\nA sleet fell in the Quarters and pelted the people like stones, but\n\u2019Liza and the devil were gone, and there was nothing left of the\nwedding-feast but a pitiful pile of ashes.\n\n * * * * *\n\nA cricket chirruped in the pause; the back log had burned through and\nthe cider jug was empty. The idle quilters, awed to whispers, yawned at\nlast, for the thread was broken\u2014the story was done, and gathering up\nher rolls, as she put her cards in her basket, Mammy said, \u201cGood-night.\u201d\n\n\n THE END","title":"Devil tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":39064}