The Tobacco Tiller: A Tale of the Kentucky Tobacco Fields — John Shaqi
The Tobacco Tiller: A Tale of the Kentucky Tobacco FieldsHackley, Sarah Bell
General
The Tobacco Tiller: A Tale of the Kentucky Tobacco Fields
Hackley, Sarah Bell
Kentucky -- Fiction; Tobacco farmers -- Fiction
"He called Mr. Castle and Mr. Evans a pair o' softheads because they
wuzn't willin' to sell at _his_ price at first askin', and when he come
through the barn thar, he 'lowed the crop looked mighty pore to him. I
says, 'Hain't thar somethin' the matter with your eyes, Mr. Garred? My
terbaccer looks mighty _good_ to men that raises hit: they say I
ginerally always beat 'em all in growin'!'
"He never sampled none hardly, neither,--jest pertended to know what I
had without hardly lookin' at hit, and when he put his hand on my
_bright_ terbaccer, my _ceegar_ terbaccer, and I had some o' the
purtiest a body ever seed, he 'lowed hit wuz house-burnt! Said he smelt
the smoke whar we'd had fires in the barn a dryin' out the damp (and, ef
you remember, Bunch, we never had no rain the fall before). And he jest
offered me six cents fer my bright, and five cents fer the rest, tips,
flyin's, trash, and all, him to do the gradin'. You know, Bunch, that a
way I wouldn't 'a' had no bright to speak of!
"I says 'I've got some mighty fine terbaccer, Mr. Garred, and five cents
is a mighty pore price, considerin'. Can't you do a leetle better fer
me?' Then he ast me ef I thought he wuz born yistiddy, er the day afore,
er wuz out a buyin' terbaccer fer his health, and jest ripped out the
cuss words. 'Anytheng over six cents fer your terbaccer'd be an
adstortionate price to pay,' he says: 'hit hain't worth no more, and I'd
see hell froze over before I'd pay you another cent!'
"Then he 'lowed ef I didn't let him have hit, what wuz I goin' to do
with hit? Wuz I goin' to feed hit to my hogs, er make hit into pies fer
myse'f to eat?
"Yes, sir, that's jest the way he talked, and t'other buyer, Bishop, a
buyin' the year before, wuz might' night' as insultin'.
"When he wuz over at Archie Evans' terbaccer barn, he tuck out his gold
watch with jewels a stickin' up like rats' eyes in the back of hit, and
told the old Dutchman a croppin' with Mr. Evans, he'd give him jest
three minutes to come to his price. The old Dutchman says: 'Me and your
price can't agree dat queeck!' Bishop got mad and told him to go to
hell, but old Christenson, he don't git mad at nobody--he jest spoke up
and says: 'Dat is de first time I have efer been invited to your fader's
house, sir, but eef you vill come along vid me, ve vill go dere
togedder!'
"Yes, sir, them buyers acts mighty quair. At them ware-houses they mix
the good crops they buy all through them that hain't as good. One year I
hauled the best crop I ever raised to a ware-house whar the old lady's
brother wuz a workin'. He said ever' time one the men'd come to a
pertic'lar extry good, bright hand, he'd say, 'Here's a hand o' Eph
Doggett's terbaccer!'
"Yes, sir, and what you reckon I got fer that crop?"
"I have no idy!" averred Bunch.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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