United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction; War stories
When we tried 2 git on the train there cum another trubble: The
conductor woulddent let him ride in the car with white folks—not even in
the smokin-car. He made him go into the baggage-car. Abe wuz so scared
about leavin me for a minnit in' that strange country that I tried 2 go
into the baggage-car with him, but the conductor woulddent let me. He
said it wuz agin the rules for passengers to ride in the baggage-cars,
but Abe could go in there, same as dogs, prize poultry, & household
pets. I tried 2 joke with him, tellin him that in sum plasis I wuz
considered a household pet, but he said Ide have 2 git another mug on me
before he could believe it.
One of Zeke Biltner's hogs ditched the train jest before we got home, &
turned the baggage-car over. Sum crates ov aigs wuz smashed over Abraham
Lincoln, & he wuz a sight to behold. He wuz awfully scared, though, &
begged me 2 let him go the rest ov the way on foot. He said he wuz a
thousand years older than when he left his ole massa, & I could
understand what he meant.
I found your mother & the girls bright & chipper & jest tickled 2 death
to see me safe back. They axed me so many questions about you & Shorty
that my head buzzed like a bee-hive. It is hard 2 git away from them 2
tend 2 my Spring work, but I've made an arrangement 2 giv em an hour
mornin93 & evenin 2 answerin questions. I think this will keep me purty
busy till the snow flise agin.
Wheat is lookin surprisinly well, though I found sum bare plasis in the
north field. I think we'll have a fair crop ov apples and peaches. Your
colt is growin up the purtiest thing that ever went on four legs, &
jumped an eight-rail fence. My hogs wintered in good shape, & pork is
risin. They have the measles over on the Crick, & school's broke up.
Bill Scripp's out agin for Sheriff, & I spose I'le have 2 turn 2 agin &
beat him. Singler, that he'll never know when he's got enuff.
If anything, Abraham Lincoln's appetite has bin improved by Wabash air.
I wuzzent goin 2 have the wimmen folks wear theirselves out cookin for
him. So I fix-ed up a place for him in the old log house, & took him
over some sides ov meat, a few bushel ov pertaters, a jug ov sorghum
molasses, & every time mother bakes she sends over some leaves ov bread.
I jest turned him loose there. He seems 2 be very happy, & we hear him
singin & yellin most all the time when he's by hisself. He's a good
worker when I stand right over him, & he'll lift & dig as patient as an
ox. But he hain't no more sense about goin ahead by hisself than a steer
has, & the moment my back's turned he stops work. Ime af eared I've got
a job on my hands makin a firstclass farmer out ov him. But if that's my
share ov the work that Providens has chalked out for me, there's nothin
left for me but 2 go ahead & do it in fear & tremblin.
No more from your affeckshionate father.
P. S. Give my best respects 2 Shorty.
CHAPTER VII. CORN PONE AND BUTTERMILK SI AND SHORTY GO FORAGING AND ARE
CAPTURED AND ROBBED
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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