The Law of the Land: Of Miss Lady, Whom It Involved in Mystery, and of John Eddring, Gentleman of the South, Who Read Its Deeper Meaning: A NovelHough, Emerson
General
The Law of the Land: Of Miss Lady, Whom It Involved in Mystery, and of John Eddring, Gentleman of the South, Who Read Its Deeper Meaning: A Novel
Hough, Emerson
Southern States -- Fiction
"Dat wus long time befo' de wah. Dey tol' us-all dat de time wuz sho'
comin' den; but den de preachers and de doctors dey tol' us-all it
mightn't be come den, but it would come some day. Den 'long come de
wah, an' de preachers an' de doctors an' de white folks up Norf dey
done tol' us, nigger gwine ter be free, not to have ter wu'k no mo'.
Huh! Now look at us! We wu'k jest as hard as we ever did, an' we git
no mo' fer it dan whut we eat an' weah. We kain't vote. Dey done
robbed us outen dat. We kain't be nobody. We kain't git 'long. We
hatter wu'k jest same, wu'k, wu'k, wu'k, all de time. Nigger jest as
well be daid as hatter wu'k all de time--got no vote, ner nuthin'.
Dat's whut de Queen she done tol' me right plain las' meetin' we had.
She say white folks up Norf gwine to help nigger now, right erlong.
Things gwine be different now, right soon."
Murmurs, singularly stirring, peculiarly ominous, answered this
extended speech. Encouraged, the orator went on. "We ain't good as
slaves, we-all ain't. We wu'k jest ez hahd. Dey gin us a taste o' de
white bread, an' den dey done snatch it 'way f'om us. We want ter be
like white folks. Up Norf dey tell us we gwine ter be, but down heah
dey won't let us."
Now suddenly the voice broke into a wail and rose again in a half-
chant. Evidently the storekeeper was absent, perhaps across the way
for his dinner. The building was left to the blacks. Without
premeditation, those present had dropped into one of those "meetings"
which white men of that region never encourage.
"Dey brung us heah in chains, O Lord!" shouted the orator. "Yea, in
chains dey done weigh us down! O Lord, make us delivery. O Lord,
smite down ouah oppressohs."
"Lord! Lord! yea, O Lord, smite down!" responded the ready chorus.
And there were sobs and strange savage gutterals which no white ear
may ever fully understand. The white listener on the station platform
understood enough, and his eager face grew tense and grave. A meeting
of the blacks, thus bold at such a time, meant nothing but danger,
perhaps danger immediate and most serious.
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.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account