Humorous stories; Valets -- Fiction; Washington (State) -- Fiction
“Away down south in Michigan,
Where I was a slave, so happy and so gay,
‘Twas there I mowed the cotton and the cane.
I used to hunt the elephants, the tigers, and giraffes,
And the alligators at the break of day.
But the blooming Injuns prowled about my cabin every night,
So I’d take me down my banjo and I’d play,
And I’d sing a little song and I’d make them dance with glee,
On the banks of the Ohio far away.”
I mean to say, there was nothing to make a dust about even if the song
were not of a true American origin, yet I was told that the creature
who sang it received hearty applause and even responded to an encore.
CHAPTER TEN
I need hardly say that this public ridicule left me dazed. Desperately
I recalled our calm and orderly England where such things would not be
permitted. There we are born to our stations and are not allowed to
forget them. We matter from birth, or we do not matter, and that’s all
to it. Here there seemed to be no stations to which one was born; the
effect was sheer anarchy, and one might ridicule any one whomsoever.
As was actually said in that snarky manifesto drawn up by the rebel
leaders at the time our colonies revolted, “All men are created free
and equal”--than which absurdity could go no farther--yet the lower
middle classes seemed to behave quite as if it were true.
And now through no fault of my own another awkward circumstance was
threatening to call further attention to me, which was highly
undesirable at this moment when the cheap one-and-six Hobbs fellow had
so pointedly singled me out for his loathsome buffoonery.
Some ten days before, walking alone at the edge of town one calm
afternoon, where I might commune with Nature, of which I have always
been fond, I noted an humble vine-clad cot, in the kitchen garden of
which there toiled a youngish, neat-figured woman whom I at once
recognized as a person who did occasional charring for the Flouds on
the occasion of their dinners or receptions. As she had appeared to be
cheerful and competent, of respectful manners and a quite marked
intelligence, I made nothing of stopping at her gate for a moment’s
chat, feeling a quite decided relief in the thought that here was one
with whom I need make no pretence, her social position being sharply
defined.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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