"Oh, I understand now. That was very bad indeed; now tell me what does preaching politics mean?"
"Dat mean stid o' preach de gospel of de Lord, him bin a talk 'bout de State en de law, en de guberment, en 'e got dem all tangle up en dem mind."
"They certainly showed their sense, Chloe, when they objected to that, for they went to church for heavenly instruction; but tell me what preaching Latin meant."
Chloe seemed to be a little tired of my questions and to think me dull, which is not my ordinary trouble, but she explained:—
"Well, Miss Pashuns, yu kno' 'tain't ebrybody kin onderstan' Latin, en w'en dis man kum to a place wey him hab nuthin' sensible fer said, him sta'at fu' ramble een a kin' o' gibbish en nobody c'udn't onderstan', en de man's self c'udn't onderstan'. Br'er Tinny say you c'ud look een 'e eye en see him jes' bin'a wander. Him didn't hab nuthin' fu' say; so him didn't t'row een him money, en say w'en he yeddy[3] Animus Brown is fu' preech him stay home."
I was quite amazed that little old man Tinny should have such power of discernment, and also such apt terms to describe and size up his preacher, and I was truly thankful he recognized the difference in Mr. G.'s doctrine and methods.
The darkies have a wonderfully keen insight into character. It is almost as if by instinct they know the genuine article from the imitation, the gilt from the gold. When you look at Anthony you would not think he knew anything more than a sparrow sees with its beady black eyes. He is very dried up and little, with those very same beady eyes. I think a great deal of the old man; he makes me a present of a huge pumpkin every year, and after many efforts to find out what he would like in return I make my present.
Sometimes I am baffled as to what he would like and give him money. If I do this, the very next day he hangs his shoes on a stick over his shoulder and walks down to Gregory, fourteen miles away, invests his cash in firewater and walks back home, all with a little shuffling gait which makes it hard to believe he could walk twenty-eight miles a day.
December 18.
This afternoon Gibbie came to say that his mother was very low and so he would not be able to milk, so I took Goliah to the cow stable to help Bonaparte milk and then to put up the horses. Many little negroes of Goliah's size are good milkers, but he has no skill in that line at all, though he is remarkably clever and useful with horses.