“We made twelve pies ef we made one” 126 “I gi’ Miss Vallie de money” 128 “Ef here ain’t ol’ Minervy Ann wid pies!” 130 “You see dat nigger ’oman?” 132 “An’ he sot dar, suh, wid his haid ’twix’ his han’s fer I dunner how long” 134 “You’ll settle dis wid me” 136 “Dat money ain’t gwine ter las’ when you buy dat kin’ er doin’s” 160 Trimmin’ up de Ol’ Mules 162 “She wuz cryin’—settin’ dar cryin’” 164 “Here come a nigger boy leadin’ a bob-tail hoss” 166 “He been axin’ me lots ’bout Miss Vallie” 172 “Marse Tumlin ’low he’ll take anything what he can chaw, sop, er drink” 176 “I hatter stop an’ pass de time er day” 178 “Hunt up an’ down fer dat ar Tom Perryman” 180 THE CHRONICLES OF AUNT MINERVY ANN I AN EVENING WITH THE KU-KLUX The happiest, the most vivid, and certainly the most critical period of a man’s life is combined in the years that stretch between sixteen and twenty-two. His responsibilities do not sit heavily on him, he has hardly begun to realize them, and yet he has begun to see and feel, to observe and absorb; he is for once and for the last time an interested, and yet an irresponsible, spectator of the passing show. This period I had passed very pleasantly, if not profitably, at Halcyondale in Middle Georgia, directly after the great war, and the town and the people there had a place apart, in my mind. When, therefore, some ten years after leaving there, I received a cordial invitation to attend the county fair, which had been organized by some of the enterprising spirits of the town and county, among whom were Paul Conant and his father-in-law, Major Tumlin Perdue, it was natural that the fact should revive old memories. The most persistent of these memories were those which clustered around Major Perdue, his daughter Vallie, and his brother-in-law, Colonel Bolivar Blasengame, and Aunt Minervy Ann Perdue. Curiously enough, my recollection of this negro woman was the most persistent of all. Her individuality seemed to stand out more vitally than the rest. She was what is called “a character,” and something more besides. The truth is, I should have missed a good deal if I had never known Aunt Minervy Ann Perdue, who, as she described herself, was “Affikin fum ’way back yander ’fo’ de flood, an’ fum de word go”—a fact which seriously interferes with the somewhat complacent theory that Ham, son of Noah, was the original negro.