"Looker heer, po white man, dus yu no who's yu er sassin? Ise er
spectable cullud gemman, sar, er franksized woter, sar, und what's yu
sar? Po down white trash. Take yer ole mar und yer ole umbrill, und yer
ole hat, und go ter de debbil." Thus was slipping away the eventide of
the day that God, in his infinite condescension aeons ago, had hallowed
and blessed.
In the excitement of these almost tragical events Alice had quite
forgotten the sick woman across the meadow, and she was hurrying there
as fast as she could, when she was intercepted in her journey by Aleck,
who commanded,
"Hole up dar, white 'oman! Whar is yer agwine wid dat baskit und dem
wittles?"
The girl was greatly alarmed at the presence of the brutish negro in
this solitary place and she spoke as complacently as possible and told
him that she was carrying some food to poor Mrs. MacLaren. "Will you not
let me go on?" she said; "the poor woman is very ill, and I am sure that
I am doing no one any harm."
"Yes yu is fer a fac, the negro replied with anger, pears lak yu an yer
yo ole daddy is terminated tu gin de culled genmen all de tribulashun yu
kin und we haint ergwine tu stan hit no longer. Boff ob yu is jist got
tu git outen de grate house und stop toting wittles tu de po white
trash. When we takes holt ob dis plantashun dey haint ergwine ter be
nary horg, nur chickin, nur pefowell on de lan und de culled genmen und
ladies will be bleeged to look at tother wuns and suck dey fingers in
misery."
As the negro turned away from the affrighted girl he purposely threw
against her fair face, with a deft hand a thorn switch, that tore the
flesh and caused the cheek to bleed and then laughed with the
gratification of an arch-fiend.
She went on her way in silence but her outraged spirit could hardly
contain itself, and this she said to herself with burning anger is
reconstruction! A civilization that with whipcords and chains has
suspended law and love and benevolence.
When Alice reached the little home of the widow she knew that the death
angel had entered before her and was putting his icy finger upon the eye
and the heart, and with an almost inaudible exclamation of "poor Allie"
she passed away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account