“No longer’n dis very ebenin’ my ole man, Tom, says ter me: ‘I dun seed nuff trouble wid yo, Beck. You needs dem big pop eyes er yone to patch my close, en wuk wid, en I ain’t er gwine to hev no bline ’oman rown’ me,’ says he; ’en I let yo know frum dis out yo don’t go ter no mo’ praar-meetin’s, ’zaminashuns er what-cher-callums; dat’s de long en short uv it!’ says he. ‘Ef you ain’ got sense nuff ter stay away frum dar,’ says he, ‘I’ll insense yo wid my fis’.’ I knows de weight er dat han’ er hisen, en I’m gwine min’ him dis time, ennyhow;” and Becky pointed toward the cabin from whence the sound of singing was wafted on the breeze, saying, “Yes’um, I’m gwine stay away frum dar, fer er fac’!”
“Becky, is such an incident common at your prayer-meetings?” I inquired.
“Why, no, ma’am, nuthin’ like dat never happen to me befo’; yit, I ’members mighty well when Betsy Washin’ton cum thoo’—’fo’ she jined de chu’ch. ’Twas in de meetin’-house, but yo couldn’t onerstan’ one single wud de preacher wus er sayin’, fer she wus jes’ er shoutin’ es loud es she could fer who las’ de longes’—en I onertuk, fool like, to hole her; fer she wus in sich a swivit, we wus feared she’d brek loose en go inter a reg’lar hard fit, so I jes’ grabbed good holt er de ’oman, ’roun’ de wais’, es she wus er hollerin’, en er jumpin’; en when she felt de grip I fotch on her, she tu’n ’roun’, she did, en gethered my sleeve in ’tween her fingers (en she is jes’ es strong es enny mule), en shore’s yore settin’ dar in dat air big cheer, en I’m er stannin’ heah, talkin’ ter yer, she gin me one single jerk, en I ’clar ter Gawd, she tore my whole sleeve outen de arm-hole, en ripped er big slit clean ’cross my coat body! Why I jes’ thought de ’oman wus gwine ter strip me start naiked, rite dar in de meetin’-house! I got dat shame I jes’ let er go, I did, en den went perusin’ roun’ ’mongst de wimmin en borryd er shawl ter kiver me up; en den I moved on todes home.
“But I mus’ let yo know de nex’ time I met up wid Betsy, I washed her face good wid what she dun. I jes’ tole her de nex’ time she got ter shoutin’ ’roun’ me she mout bre’k her neck—I wan’t gwine hole her, I wan’t gwine tech her; ‘fer,’ says I, ‘yo done gone en ’stroyed de bes’ Sunday dress I got, yo is dat,’ says I, ‘fer er fac’!’
“Den Betsy ’lowed she didn’t keer, en dat she didn’t know what she wus er doin’, but I tuk mighty good notice she never made no motion to grab onter Aunt Sally Brown’s co’se homespun gown when she tuk er tu’n er hol’in uv her. But uv co’se, I heap ruther hev my close tore dan to hev my eye busted out. But dey ain’t no need er airy one bein’ done; en I tole her so, I did dat. ‘Sholey Christians,’ say I, ‘kin ’joy dersef widout hurtin’ nobody, neither tarin’ der close!’ I up en axed her ef she eber knowed de white folks in de big house karyin’ on datterway, en ef she eber seed Miss Marthy er Miss Reeny er cuttin’ up like dat in de white folks’ meetin’-house? Well, she jes’ bust out er laffiin’ in my face at dat, en she ’lowed niggahs wan’t like white folks nohow.
“‘I knows better’n dat,’ says I. ‘Fer Gawd made us all outen de dus’ er de groun’, bofe de white en de black;’ en, Miss Calline, yo’ ma uster tell me ef I ’haved mysef, en kep’ mysef clean, en never tole no lies, ner ’sturb yuther folks’ things, I wus good es ennybody, en I b’lieves it till yit; dat’s de salvashun trufe, I’m tellin’, white ’oman, it sholey is!
“But den Betsy got mad, she did, en gin me er push,—we wus walkin’ ’long de top er de levee—en I wus so aggervated dat I cum back at ’er wid er knock dat made her roll down smack inter de gully. Den she hollered so de men fishin’ unner de river bank cum er runnin’. She had don’ sprain her wris’, en ef her arm had been broke she cudn’t er made no mo’ fuss. Lemme tell yo de trufe! de very nex’ Sunday dey tu’ned us bofe outen de chu’ch case we fit, en I cayn’t go to praar-meetin’ tell I done jine ergin.”
“Well, Becky, you’ve made me forget there is a war and Yankee raids, and I reckon I’ll have to give you a cup of store-coffee for doing it.”
“Thanky, Miss Calline! I’ll be powerful ’bliged ter yo’; en I mus’ be er movin’, en pa’ch dis heah coffee fer my ole mammy’s supper, fer she’s gittin’ monshus tired of tea off dem tater chips what we has ter drink dese days.”