The Chronicles of Aunt Minervy AnnHarris, Joel Chandler
General
The Chronicles of Aunt Minervy Ann
Harris, Joel Chandler
Georgia -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
“But ol’ Joshaway, he ain’t a-keerin’ what folks say. He start de bank,
an’ he kep’ it up twel de time I’m gwine tell you ’bout. He bought ’im
a big strong safe, an’ he had it walled up in de back er de bank, an’
dar ’twuz. Don’t make no diffunce what folks say ’bout ol’ Joshaway, dey
can’t say he ain’t honest. He gwine ter have what’s his’n, an’ he want
yuther folks fer ter have what’s der’n. When dat de case, ’tain’t no
trouble ter git folks ter trus’ you. Dey put der money in ol’ Joshaway’s
bank, whar he kin take keer un it, bekaze dey know’d he wa’n’t gwine ter
run off wid it.
“Well, suh, de bank wuz runnin’ ’long des like ’twuz on skids, an’ de
skids greased. Ol’ Joshaway ain’t move ter town, but he hired ’im a
clerk, an’ de clerk stayed in de bank night an’ day, an’ I hear folks say
de town wuz better’n bigger on ’count er ol’ Joshaway’s bank. I dunner
how dey make dat out, ’kaze de bank wa’n’t much bigger dan de kitchen
back dar. Anyhow, dar she wuz, and dar she stayed fer a time an’ a time.
“But one day Marse Tumlin Perdue tuck de notion dat he got ter borry some
money. He seed yuther folks gwine in dar an’ borryin’ fum ol’ Joshaway,
an’ he know he got des ez much bizness fer ter borry ez what dey is. Mo’
dan dat, when he had plenty er money an’ niggers, he done ol’ Joshaway
many a good turn. I know’d dat myse’f, suh, an’ ’tain’t no hearsay; I
done seed it wid my own eyes. On de day I’m talkin’ ’bout, Miss Vallie
sont me up town fer ter ax Marse Tumlin kin he spar’ two dollars—dat wuz
befo’ Miss Vallie wuz married; ’bout a mont’ befo’, an’ she wuz makin’
up her weddin’ fixin’s.
“’Twa’n’t no trouble ter fin’ Marse Tumlin. He wuz settin’ in de shade
wid a passel er men. He seed me, he did, an’ he come ter meet me. When
I tell ’im what Miss Vallie want, he kinder scratch his head an’ look
sollum. He studied a minit, an’ den he tell me ter come go ’long wid
’im. He cut ’cross de squar’ an’ went right ter ol’ Joshaway’s bank, me
a-follerin’ right at his heels. He went in, he did, an’ ’low, ‘Hello,
Joshaway!’ Ol’ Joshaway, he say, ‘Howdy, Maje?’ He wuz settin’ in dar
behime a counter what had wire palin’s on top un it, an’ he look fer all
de worl’ like some ongodly creetur what dey put in a cage for ter keep
’im fum doin’ devilment.
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