“Mr. Frog: ‘When’s dat?’
“‘When de peach an’ cherry trees am bloomin’, when de bees am suckin’ clober, an’ de patridge say, “Bob White,” we gits in lub, an’ wants uh mate. It’s ’nuff ter meck you cry, Mr. Frog, but dat’s de time I got uh game leg. Hit wuz one lubly day early in May. I wuz sorter dozin’ ’side uh tussock, ebery now an’ den ketchin’ uh grub wum, when I saw uh gran’ lookin’ pinter dog, gallopin’ same ez uh race hoss, cummin’ my way, an’ not fur behin’ him uh man in gum boots. Sez I ter mehsef, sez I, when you git erboutin uh hun’erd ya’ds fum me I’ll dart ’way. Jes’ den uh putty young lady snipe fum Firginny darted fum un’er uh nearby tussock, winked huh lubly black eyes in de mos’ coaxin’ way, spread huh tail like uh dear little fan.’”
Uncle Caesar: “Wan’ she uh sassy snipe?”
“‘So I say in de p’lites’ way, “Won’ you tase dis wum?” In uh moment she stood ’side me an’ say in words mo’ sweetah dan de mockin’ birds, “I’s got such miration fuh you I kyant resis’.” A moment later I heahd dat gunner say, “Careful da!” I ris up. Bang! Uh number ten shot wen’ th’oo meh thigh, an’ dat’s why I got uh game leg.’”
Uncle Jerry Butler: “Billy, I s’pose I mus’ bleebe yo’ story, kase I heah ’em read down ter de sto’ lars’ nite, dat uh hen lay uh gole egg, which is wussa yit. How-some-eber, I sut’ny wud lub ter ketch one ub dem breed ub chickens uh roosin’ ’roun’ heah.”
NANCY YOUNG.
In Pleasant Valley, at the head of Fausley Creek, there were several quarters, in one of which lived Nancy Young, not a stone’s throw from the quarter of Aunt Cassey. Nancy helped in milking the cows, churning, making butter, and at harvest time helped the cooks, but Mammy Nancy, as the darkies called her, was virtually her own mistress, and was never required to do hard work; in short, she was the plantation doctress, and it was seldom that any little darkies came into the world without Mammy Nancy’s assisting their advent. The negroes thought her inspired, and when they had ailments Nancy made them a decoction that went to the spot; in brief, she was well acquainted with the use of herbs. She had faithfully nursed Mrs. Isaac Atkinson, a Quakeress and neighbor, who imparted to her many of her secret remedies; some of these would have enlightened a modern doctor. For example, she had a remedy for what she called “cowbuncle,” which was almost a specific for carbuncle. Nancy especially doted on making catnip tea, and when she held in her faithful arms a cantankerous baby, and crooned and gave it catnip tea, “De chile wan’ pestered no mo.’”
She was motherly, sympathetic and a born nurse, and not only attended the servants, but nursed the ladies of the neighborhood. She was extremely pious, and if she had not been, I do not know what would have become of Little Billy; she was his wife.
Nancy was full of determination and spirit, and when Billy came in early in the morning from ’possum hunting without a ’possum, she always suspected he had been to Major Rudd’s store, and took the strong hand with him that he took with his steers, and would not let him have his banjo and pipe.
The earliest watermelons grew in her garden, and she had spring chicken weeks before her neighbors. Billy was not allowed even to go into the garden, for she was afraid he might disturb her herb patch. It did not disturb Billy, however, who preferred his corncob pipe and banjo. Nancy was very fond of music, and once she said to me: “Billy ain’ got no erligion, but he do play de banjo same ez uh cherrypin” [cherubim].