The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 3, March, 1862Various
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 3, March, 1862
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
'I knows dat, massa; I knows dat; but I had to do it. Dat Moye am de ole
debil, but de folks round har wud hab turned on de Cunnel, shore, ef
he'd killed him. Dey don't like de Cunnel; dey say he'm a stuck-up
seshener.'
'The Colonel, then, has befriended you at some time?'
'No, no, sar; 'twarn't dat; dough I'se know'd him a long w'ile,--eber
sense my ole massa fotched me from de Habana,--but 'twarn't dat.'
'Then _why_ did you do it?'
The black hesitated a moment, and glanced at the old negress, then
said,--
'You see, massa, w'en I fuss come to Charles'n, a pore little ting, wid
no friend in all de worle, dis ole aunty war a mudder to me. She nussed
de Cunnel; he am jess like her own chile, and I know'd 'twud kill her ef
he got hisself enter trubble.'
I noticed certain convulsive twitchings about the corners of the old
woman's mouth as she rose from her seat, threw her arms around Scip,
and, in words broken by sobs, faltered out,--
'_You_ am my chile; I loves you better dan Massa Davy--better dan all de
worle.'
The scene, had they not been black, would have been one for a painter.
'You were the Colonel's nurse, Aunty,' I said, when she had regained her
composure. 'Have you always lived with him?'
'Yas, sar, allers; I nussed him, and den de chil'ren--all ob 'em.'
'All the children? I thought the Colonel had but one--Miss Clara.'
'Wal, he habn't, massa, only de boys.'
'What boys? I never heard he had sons.'
'Neber heerd of young Massa Davy, nor Massa Tommy! Hain't you _seed_
Massa Tommy, sar?'
'Tommy! I was told he was Madam P----'s son.'
'So he am; Massa Davy had _her_ long afore he had missus.'
The truth flashed upon me; but could it be possible? Was I in South
Carolina or in Utah?
'Who is Madam P----?' I asked.
The old woman hesitated a moment, as if in doubt whether she had not
said too much; but Scip quietly replied,--
'She'm jess what aunty am--_de Cunnel's slave!_'
'His _slave_! it can't be possible; she is white!'
'No, massa; she am brack, and de Cunnel's slave!'
Not to weary the reader with a long repetition of negro-English, I will
tell in brief what I gleaned from an hour's conversation with the two
blacks.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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