Ole Mars an' Ole Miss

by Edmund K. Goldsborough

“Yas, sah; ev’ything is changed. Ebin Mefodis’ preachers an’ de elders, shuh. Dey struts an’ prances erroun’ same ez colts an’ tukkey gobblers in de spring, an’ hits dribin uh lot ub ’em ter distruction. All moufs ain’ prayer books, boss. Hit’s de same thing wid dem Presbyters dat Tillie’s gwine ter jine, an’ when it cums ter de ’Piscopaliums hit’s wussa yit. Up heah at St. Thormasses dey bu’n insects in what dey call uh—I fogit de name—an’ dem preachers dat kyant talk good—an’ mos’ ub ’em kyant—dey sorter sing what dey talkin’. I heah Cap’n Stitchberry’s brer say who halls de sain—an’, ub cose, he er Babtis’—dat ef’n Ole Mars wuz erlive an’ went ter St. Thormasses, he wudn’ no wha he wuz, kase dey bows like uh passel ub muscovy drakes. Boss, dem muscoves is quaresome ducks. T’other day I saw Brer Sam’s boy, Rasmus, bowin’ ter uh passel ub muscovy drakes an’ dey wuz bowin’ ter him. So I say ter de boy, ‘What you doin’ ter dem ducks?’

“‘Talkin’ drake talk.’

“‘Well, what de ducks say?’

“‘I dunno, but dey do!’

“All dis changin’ business is ergin de Bible, too. Lars’ Sunday Pawson Demby preached erbout hit. His tex’ wuz fum de Profit Jerry-Myah: ‘Kin uh Ethiopium change his skin er uh leopard his spots?’ An’ Pawson Demby say ’twuz ornpossible.

“Jes’ befo’ Chrismus I went ter Easton wid uh load ub Chrismus trees, an’ one ub de fus’ things I seed wuz uh lubly lookin’ young Mistis dribin uh cullud pusson; he wuz uh settin’ behin’ huh wid his ahms folded, all dress up an’ smilin’ same ez uh ole gray goose smilin’ on uh gander. Well, I nebba ’spected ter lib ter see uh change like dat. Fac’ is, mos’ all de ladies ’roun’ heah gittin’ changed, an’ ve’y sassy, tryin’ ter be like de men. Fuh instinct, dar is uh lady doctor an’ uh lady lawyer, dey tells me, in Balt’mo’. Think ub dat! An’ hit’s all ergin de’ structions ub Gen’sis, Rebullation, Jerry-Myah, Noahy an’ I ’specks all ub de profits. Kase de Bible say dat ’ooman kyant ebin pray in publuc. Boss, da ain’ no use talkin’, fum de cricket an’ grasshopper clean up ter man, de male de gre’tes’ an’ bes’ lookin’. Dar’s uh little Jinny Wren settin’ on dat reed singin’ beau’ful. Now, ain’ hit s’prisin’ wha he git dat voice fum dat you kin heah ’cross de ribba; hit sut’ny is strange. Well, dat he wren, don’ he look peart; an’ he is peart, too. He kin meck uh hawk hide hissef. You see he’s de male. Well, look at dat cock sparrow; don’ de hen look meek ’long side him? Boss, I’m gwine ter teck mos’ ev’ything dat wuz in de yark, ter show dat ladies musn’ try ter be men, an’ change deahsebs. Hit kyant be did any mo’ dan you kin gib de female birds de feathers ub de males. I s’pose de bobolink is de mos’ dress up ub all birds, fuh he changes his clothes twice uh yeah, an’ when he got on dat beau’ful spring suit ub his’n his wives do clustah erroun’ him. De cock partridge (some people call ’em Bob White), de oriole, pigeon, teal duck, tukkey, canlas-back duck, woodpecker, red-wing blackbird, de wood-duck, tu beau’ful futto kill; how lubly de males is ’long side de females. Den ergin, pursidder de roostus; don’ matter ef’n dey shankhy, banty, game, er what not, dey’r boun’ ter hab lubly feathers all streaked an’ striped same ez dem cattle dat Jacob, de father ub de Petracks, owned. Mo’n dat, ef’n two roostus fight, de one dat whups jes’ crows, flaps his wings, an’ heah cums his wives an’ de udder roostah’s wives all runnin’ off wid him. Dat’s jes’ de way de ladies ’roun’ heah runs arfter Mars Pinckney.”

Ezra seemed much pleased with his talk, and with a wisp of burning grass in each hand, continued to fire the marsh, and for the moment forgot my presence and sang:

“We cum ter dis worl’ bof naked an’ bare,

We al’ays goes thoo it wid sorrow an’ care;

We go when we die de Lawd only nose wha’;