“Yaas, man, uh fat fuh true. Uh binnuh eat hog meat. Philpuh him buy uh hog en’ sen’ um home, en’ de hog meet uh acksident een de fench, en’ uh ’f’aid ’e gwine dead lukkuh da’ todduh hog ’e hab fuh dead on me han’ one time, en’ buzzut git’um ’fo’ uh hab uh chance fuh eat’um. Buzzut git uhhead’uh me one time, but ’e nebbuh do’um two time! My maussuh’ nigguh haffuh smaa’t mo’nuh buzzut! Stepney[1] ain’ fuh come een my house! Me fuh ’low my maussuh’ nigguh fuh perish fuh hog meat? Me jaw full dry ’long cawn hom’ny, en’ buzzut mout’ fuh greesy ’long de ’ooman hog meat, enty? No suh! Uh gwine nyam’um fus’! Uh kill’um ’fo’ ’e dead!”
THE LION OF LEWISBURG
Several years ago there lived on the “Lewisburg” rice plantation of former Governor Duncan Clinch Heyward, one Monday White, a yellow negro and a persistent and imaginative practical joker. The little “Devil’s Fiddles” which boys construct of empty tin cans and rosined string emit unchristian squeaks and groans when played upon with smooth hardwood sticks, and Monday believed that a similar device on a larger scale could be so manipulated as to frighten into hysterics half the negro population along Combahee River. Begging from the store a large empty powder keg, he surreptitiously rigged it up with stout twine which, well rubbed with rosin and scraped with a dry hickory stick for a bow, produced a hoarse and horrible sound which might have passed among the uninitiated for the roar of a lion—or for anything else.
Monday knew that the superstitious negroes feared most the unknown. The negro who would have taken a chance with alligator or bull, or the even more dangerous hind legs of a mule, could be scared stiff by a weird, unfamiliar sound in the woods at night. So Monday decided that the ear-jarring sound emitted by his double-bass “Devil’s Fiddle” should do service for the roar of a lion, as these creatures were unknown on Combahee, and the few negroes who had once seen lions when the circus visited Walterboro, brought back marvelous tales of their ferocity and their terrible voices.
Monday baited his victims skilfully. One Saturday night when the store was crowded with trading negroes, he led the conversation lionwards. He needed tales of terror, and the two or three negroes who had once seen lions were willing to oblige. One of them had even seen them fed. “W’en uh bin Walterburruh, uh look ’puntop one dem annimel fuh call lion, en’ uh shum w’en dem duh g’em ’e bittle fuh eat.”
“Nigguh g’em ’e bittle?
“No man, buckruh feed’um. Nigguh ent fuh feed’um. Da’ t’ing dainjus tummuch! Nigguh duh him bittle. Lion en’ nigguh alltwo come f’um Aff’iky, en’ w’en dem Aff’ikin king en’ t’ing hab lion een dem cage, ’e g’em uh nigguh fuh eat eb’ry day Gawd sen’, en’ ’e crack nigguh’ hambone een ’e jaw sukkuh dem Beefu’t nigguh crack crab claw’ w’en ’e done bile. Him done fuh lub nigguh! W’en dem sukkus man fuh feed’um een Walterburruh, dem fetch half uh bull yellin’ fuh ’e bittle, en’ w’en da’ t’ing look ’puntop de meat, ’e tail t’rash’ ’pun de flo’ sukkuh nigguh duh t’rash rice ’long flail, en’ ’e gyap ’e mout’ same lukkuh Mistuh Jokok op’n ’e trunk mout’ fuh t’row uh flow ’puntop Mass Clinch’ rice! ’E woice roll lukkuh t’unduh roll, en’ w’en ’e holluh, eb’ry Chryce’ nigguh t’row ’e han’ obuh e’ two’ yez en’ run out de tent, en’ gone!”
“Tengk Gawd dem annimel nebbuh come ’puntop Cumbee!” a woman fervently exclaimed.
“Yaas, tittie,” said another, “ef da’ t’ing ebbuh come yuh, me fuh run Sabannuh. Uh nebbuh stop run ’tell uh done pass de Yamassee!”
Others joined in the trembling chorus and Monday, when they had become sufficiently worked up, shrewdly spilled the first spoonful of powder leading to his mine. “Oonuh nigguh, one buckruh binnuh talk ’puntop de flatfawm to W’ite Hall deepo dis mawnin’, en’ uh yeddy’um tell dem torruh buckruh suh one sukkus hab uh acksident to Orangebu’g, en’ one lion git out ’e cage en’ run een de swamp en’ gone, en’ de buckruh try fuh ketch’um but dem ’f’aid fuh gone een de swamp, en’ dem sen’ dem dog attuhr’um, en’ de lion kill t’irteen beagle one time!”