The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 2, August, 1862: Devoted to Literature and National PolicyVarious
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 2, August, 1862: Devoted to Literature and National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
'Why, my good friend, you're half-brother to Garrison. You don't talk to
your neighbors in this way?'
'Wal, I doan't;' he replied, laughing. 'Ef I dun it, they'd treat me to
a coat uv tar, and ride me out uv th' deestrict raather sudden, I
reckon; but yer a Nuthener, an' the' all take nat'rally ter freedum,
excep' th' d----d doughfaces, an' ye aren't one on 'em, I'll swar.'
'Well, I'm not. Do many of your neighbors think as you do?'
'Reckon not many round har; but up in Cart'ret, whar I cum from, heaps
on 'em do, though the' darn't say so.'
By this time we had reached the still, and directing his attention to
the enormous quantity of rosin that had been run into the pit which I
have spoken of, I asked him why he threw so much valuable material away.
'Wal, 'tan't wuth nothin' har. Thet's th' common, an' it won't bring in
York, now, more'n a dollar forty-five. It costs a dollar an' two bits
ter get it thar an' pay fur sellin on it, an' th' barr'l's wuth the
difference. I doan't ship nuthin wuss no No. 2.'
'What is No. 2?'
He took the head from one of the barrels, and with an adze cut out a
small piece, then handing me the specimen, replied:
'Now hole thet up ter th' sun. Ye'll see though it's yaller, its clean
and clar. Thet's good No. 2, what brings now two dollars an' two bits in
New-York, an' pays me 'bout a dollar a barr'l; it's got eout o' second
yar dip, an' as it comes eout uv th' still, is run through thet ar
strainer,' pointing to a coarse wire-sieve that lay near. 'Th' common
rosum, thet th' still's runnin' on now, is made eout on th' yaller
dip--thet's th' kine o' turpentine thet runs from th' tree arter two
yar's tappin'--we call it yallar dip 'case it's allers dark. We doan't
strain common 'tall, an' it's full uv chips and dirt. It's low now, but
ef it shud ever git up, I'd tap thet ar' heap, barr'l it up, run a
little fresh-stilled inter it, an' 'twould be a'most so good as new.'
'Then it is injured by being in the ground.'
'Not much; it's jest as good fur ev'ry thing but makin' ile, puttin' it
in the 'arth sort o' takes th' sap eout on it, an' th' sap's th' ile.
Natur' sucks thet eout, I s'pose, ter make th' trees grow--I expec' my
bones 'ill fodder 'em one on these days.'
'Rosin is put to very many uses.'
'Yes, but common's used mainly for ile and soap; th' Yankees put it
inter hard yaller soap, 'case it makes it weigh, an' yer folks is up ter
them doin's, and he looked at me and gave a sly laugh. I could not deny
the 'hard' impeachment, and said nothing. Taking a specimen of very
clear light-colored rosin from a shelf in the still-house, I asked him
what that quality was worth.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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