“Yaas, tittie, ’e fine fuh true. You see da’ blue chaney, enty? Dat chaney bin ’e Missis’ pitchuh ’tell de pitchuh’ mout’ done bruk out. One time ’e missis sen’ one leely nigguh gal duh big spring wid ’e blue pitchuh fuh fetch watuh. De gal full’ de pitchuh en’ pit’um ’puntop ’e head duh walk duh paat’ comin’ fuh de house. De gal duh walk ca’less like, duh swing ’e han’, en’ ’e yeye high, en’ ’e nebbuh look ’puntop de paat’, en’ one limus cootuh binnuh cross ’e paat’, en’ him git to de paat’ same time de gal git dey, en’ de gal ’tump ’e toe ’puntop de cootuh, en’ de cootuh t’row’um down, en’ de pitchuh fall off de gal’ head en’ ’trike ’puntop’uh root, en’ de pitchuh’ mout’ bruk out en’ de gal gone back duh big spring en’ full’ de pitchuh ’gen, en’ pit’um ’puntop ’e head en’ gone big house duh paat’, but ’e dat ’f’aid suh limus cootuh gwine hit’um ’gen, ’e ’tep’ high, en’ w’en ’e ’tep’ high de watuh wuh ’e fetch f’um big spring ’plash’ out de pitchuh’ bruk mout’ en’ drap’ ’puntop de gal two eye’ en’ run down ’e face en’ gone een ’e mout’, en’ w’en de gal git duh big house, ’e missis look ’puntop all de watuh en’ t’ing’ dey ’puntop ’e face en’ ’e missis t’ink de gal cry tuh dat, en’ ’e missis sorry fuhr’um en’ ’e nebbuh lick’um nuh nutt’n’, en’ ’e gi’ de bruk mout’ pitchuh to de gal, en’ w’en de gal grow up, Buh John hab’um fuh wife, en’ da’ de way Buh John git de pitchuh, en’ attuh Buh John done dead, ’e wife wuh ’e lef’ tek hatchitch en’ bruk de pitchuh ’gen, en’ pit eb’ry Gawd piece ’puntop Buh John’ grabe, en’ da’ w’ymekso ’e stan’ so.”
“’E grabe look stylish fuh true, but uh know berry well w’en my juntlemun dead me yent fuh bruk no pitchuh en’ t’ing fuh pit ’puntop him cawpse, ’cause da’ nigguh ent wut, ’e too lub fuh drink rum, en’ w’en ’e fetch’um home, him fuhrebbuh duh fall down en’ bruk de bottle wuh ’e fetch’um een, en’ uh hab all dem bruk bottle pile’ een de fench cawnuh fuh pit ’puntop him grabe w’en ’e dead. Two’t’ree time Joe seem lukkuh ’e kinduh spishus ’bout de bruk bottle, en’ ’e ax me wuffuh uh duh sabe’um, but uh tell’um uh sabe’um fuh beat’um up ’long pessle, fuh pizen buckruh’ dog, en’ dat sattify ’e mine’ en’ ’e lemme ’lone.”
“You sho’ hab uh good onduhstan’, tittie, ’cause man ent fuh know tummuch. Ef ’ooman tell’um de trute ’e nebbuh sattify. ’Ooman haffuh fool’um fuh mek’um easy een ’e mine’!”
“You duh talk trute, tittie, him lub you fuh fool’um. Fool’um duh de only t’ing him gwine b’leebe.”
“Yaas, man, meself hab uh good ecknowledge fuh fool’um. One time Paul, him duh my juntlemun, binnuh wu’k to de maa’l, duh dig rock, down to John Ilun’. Monday mawnin’, him git up soon, ’e gone deepo, ’e ketch de shoofly strain, en’ ’e gone! Uh nebbuh shum ’gen ’tell Sattyday night. Wuh me fuh do? Seddown een me house ’tell him come home en’ watch ’tettuh duh bile? No, suh! Uh lub fuh talk tummuch! Soon ez uh yeddy de strain blow, en’ uh sattify’ my juntlemun gone, uh tek me two foot en’ uh gone Paa’ker’ Ferry Cross Road’ weh da’ buckruh hab ’e big sto’. All dem boy’ wuh ent hab nutt’n’ fuh do, dey dey duh talk, en’ ’nuf ’ooman’ dey dey duh hol’ cumpuhshashun ’long de man en’ t’ing. W’en daa’k come, uh gone home. Uh cook, uh eat, uh leddown duh bed, uh sleep. Chuesday mawnin’, uh gone same fashi’n, en’ eb’ry Gawd’ day ’tell bimeby Sattyday come ’gen. Uh clean de house, uh wash, uh sweep de yaa’d, en’ uh gone Cross Road’. Uh pass de time uh day ’long dem todduh nigguh’ ’tell uh yeddy de strain f’um town blow deepo, den uh gone home fuh wait ’tell Paul come. Befo’ uh lef’ de sto’, Sancho Frajuh binnuh drink rum en’ ’e t’row’way ’e money berry freehan’, en’ ’e buy ’bout two quawt’ uh candy, dese’yuh ’ticky kind’uh t’ing, dem hab ’ooman name, de buckruh call’um Carrie Mel, but eb’n so, ’e mek out’uh pinegum en’ muhlassis, en’ ef oonuh chaw’um ’e gwine hol’ yo’ jaw ’tell t’unduh roll. De buckruh hab’um een ’e sto’ sence las’ yeah en de t’ing haa’d ez uh i’un. Sancho gi’ eb’ry ’ooman two han’ful’. Uh wrop one de han’ful’ een uh papuh en’ drap’um een me ap’un pocket. Uh t’row de todduh han’ful een me mout’ en’ biggin fuh chaw. Uh chaw, en’ uh chaw, uh chaw, en’ uh chaw. De t’ing sweet’n’ me fuh true, but ’e ketch me jaw’ en’ ’e hol’um same lukkuh pinegum plastuh! De mo’ uh chaw’um de mo’ ’e swell. Time uh git tuh me house, de t’ing wrop roun’ eb’ry teet’ een me head lukkuh jackwine wrop roun’ tree. Alltwo me jaw’ stan’ same fashi’n ez mufflejaw fowl, en’ me mout’ swell’up same lukkuh Buh Quash’ mout’ stick out w’en ’e bex! W’en uh git tuh de do’, Paul dey dey duh wait fuh me! ’Fo’ him kin ax me no squeschun, uh smaa’t ’nuf fuh t’row me ap’un tuh me mout’ fuh hide’um, en’ uh kibbuhr’um up en’ biggin fuh moan. Uh moan, en’ uh moan. Paul ax me wuffuh uh mek shishuh hebby cumplain. Uh ’ca’cely kin able fuh talk, but uh tell’um uh binnuh walk roun’ de fench en’ uh walk ’puntop yalluh jacket nes’ en’ de t’ing ’ting me tuh dat. ’E ax me w’ich one de jaw ’e ’ting me ’pun. Uh p’int tuh me lef han’ jaw. ’E ax me ’smattuh mek alltwo de jaw’ swell. Uh tell’um gumbile mek todduh one fuh swell. Den uh biggin fuh cry. Watuh stan’ een me two eye’. Uh baig’um fuh gone deepo en’ baig some dem buckruh’ fuh g’em some linniment fuh de mis’ry een alltwo me jaw’. Paul say suh him kin gone Cross Road’ en’ buy’um, but uh ’f’aid ef him gone Cross Road’, Sancho dem gwine tell’um suh me bin dey, en’ uh tell’um no, uh yent want’um fuh t’row’way him money ’cause uh lub’um tummuch, en’ uh mo’ redduh him fuh baig de buckruh’, den fuh buy’um out him own money. Dat mek’um sattify, en’ ’e gone deepo. Soon ez ’e gone, uh try fuh git da’ debble’ub’uh ’ceitful Carrie Mel out me mout’. De t’ing ’tick same lukkuh Buh Rabbit ’tick tuh Taar Baby. ’E won’ tu’n me loose! Den me bline’gawd tell me fuh greese’um. Uh gone duh house, uh mek fiah, uh pit one fat bakin een de pan, en’ w’en de meat done fry, uh tek’um een me mout’ en’ biggin fuh chaw. Bimeby de greese biggin fuh loose de Carrie Mel, en’ uh tek alltwo me han’ en’ uh pull’um out me mout’, en’ uh t’row’um ’way, en’ uh t’row’um fudduh!
“W’en Paul come back wid de buckruh linniment, uh duh hol’ me two jaw’ en’ uh dull moan. Him gimme de t’ing, uh rub’um, en’ attuhw’ile, w’en him done cook de bittle wuh ’e fetch f’um John Ilun’, uh call’um fuh look ’puntop me two jaw’ weh de swell’ done gone, en’ ’e dat sattify, ’e gimme de money wuh him bin fuh buy linniment duh Cross Road, en’ ’e nebbuh yeddy ’bout no Sancho!”
“Yaas, tittie, ’ooman fool’um fuh true! Him done fuh fool’um!”
A RICEFIELD IDYLL
A brilliant tropical day in late August. A strong breeze from the river moved the glistening leaves and swayed the long pennons of gray Spanish moss that swung from every bough and twig of the great live-oaks, whose spreading arms stretched their protecting shade over the plateau upon which stood the Big House, crowning the highest point of Prospect Hill. A mile away swept the flowing tide of the broad and beautiful Edisto, whose shimmering waters, opposed by the summer wind, danced and sparkled in the sunlight. Upon the lower levels between the uplands and the river lay the great fields of early rice, now ready for the sickle. Intersecting the fields or “squares” at regular intervals, and contrasting with their green and gold opulence, shining silver-blue canals ran from river to headland. Far across the river on “the Island,” the eye rested upon an emerald expanse of June rice which would come to harvest six weeks later. From the ripening fields the “harvest flow” had been taken off, the squares dried, and on this Monday morning 100 hands had gathered by sunrise, for, by the mysterious grapevine telegraph through which negroes on one plantation hear almost instantaneously what is going forward on other plantations miles away, the news had gone about that rice-cutting was to commence at Prospect Hill, and the gregarious negroes, deserting the smaller settlements, flocked hither to the big plantation where, working in gangs, they could exchange quip and jest and gather the gossip of the countryside. Some of the best rice-cutters were the sturdy young women, who, with skirts tied up above their knees and wearing men’s wool hats to mitigate the heat of the sun, kept pace with the best of their masculine associates. Cutting and tying by piece work, an active hand could readily complete his task, the allotment for a day’s work, an hour before noon, and some of those who had walked six or seven miles in the morning would knock off as soon as the task was finished and loaf around the quarters until sundown, while others, pushing their luck, held on until the evening, putting two days’ work into one. Armed with the saw-edged, sickle-like “rice hooks,” the cutters stretched across the squares, each seizing with her left hand as large a bundle of the heavy-headed stalks as she could conveniently grasp, which, with one stroke of her right arm, she quickly severed a few inches above the ground, laid the bundle on the stubble ready for those who tied into sheaves behind her, and, with a sweep of her left, gathered another handful for the embrace of the crescent-shaped blade. Down the steaming field moved a skirmish line of lusty black wenches, bare-armed, bare-footed and bare-legged, their skirts drawn above their knees by a cord about the waist, which took up the slack. Here and there among them worked men, and these, often physically inferior to the females of the species, were subjected to constant raillery and frequent challenges to equal the self-appointed tasks of the women.
Venus Chisolm and Diana Smashum, two strapping Amazons, were the most expert of the women rice-cutters, and excelled most of the men in efficiency. Scipio Jenkins, a smart young buck, was the special butt of the gang of which Diana and Venus were the leaders. Scipio was unusually black, with the common combination of yellow eyes and blue gums, and upon this color scheme his tormentors lit like bee martins on a crow.