January 10.
I ventured to church in spite of rain which did not amount to much. A little stiff and painful from my prowess with saw yesterday, but would not for worlds acknowledge it to any one. Had my iron log brought in and set up in the piazza, and shall put a geranium on it as a pedestal. I am so proud of it I cannot think of burning it up.
I hear that Gibbie has moved off of the place, has left without paying his rent. He came on the 16th, and paid one dollar on his rent for October, the rent being $1.25 a month, and he says he gets one dollar a day for his work. He assured me that it was impossible for him to pay more until some mythical time when he would be paid off and pay the rest to date. Now he has slipped away without paying at all. I have written to see if I can get it from his employer. Now comes his brother David to tell me he is going—he pays me $2.25 which leaves $6.50 still due me. I made him give me his note payable by April first for that. I do not doubt April first was a most suitable date and that it will be a proper celebration of the day as April fool. Chloe's indignation is great for she knows how often I have helped them in sickness and how patiently I have waited on them. She burst out, "De good yu do, de t'enks yu git, how yu help dem po' mudder tru' she long sickness an' tribulation! but w'at better kin you 'spec f'um run-way nigger fam'bly?"
Chloe began: "W'en I bin a small gal."
I seemed surprised at this and said, "What do you mean, Chloe?" "Miss Pashuns, you don' know dem kum frum run-way nigger fam'bly?"
"No," I answered, "I never heard of such a thing."
"Well, den, I'll tell you. W'en I bin a small gal, bin a min' chill'un ne[4] street, my grandpa Moses bin one o' ole Maussa fo'man—him had one gang o' twenty man, en Daddy Sam, Bonapaa't pa, had de oder gang, en dem uster bery proud o' dem gang, en dem gang used to run race fo' wuk. Well, my grandpa had Gibbie grandpa een him gang—'e name was Able, but Able neber love wuk—soon as de springtime cum en dem biggin fo' staat for plant crap, Able n'used to run way; ebery year de same t'ing—en dat used to mek de gang mad, kase dem had for du him wuk. You onderstan', Miss Patience, dem had to share him task between dem, fu' extry. One time Able bin gone six mont'—de 'hole summa' en Maussa bin a fret, say somet'ing mus' be happen to Able, 'kase him always did cum home befo' col' wedder en now de wuk all dun, en de tetta dun dig een, en we de fix fu' winta! One day de chill'un bin a play in de street en Able gal com on contac' wid anoda' gal, en dem bigin fu' sass one nudda. De oda gal say, 'I'se betta'n yu any way. I'se got Pa, en yu ain' got no Pa.' Den Able gal mek answa, 'I is got Pa.' De oda gal say, 'How cum nobody see yu Pa? No, yu ain't got no Pa.' 'I is got Pa, I tell yu.' 'W'ey yu Pa? ef yu got um.' 'My Pa dey up loft een a barrel.' De oder gal tell him pa dat night, en him gone straight en tell my grandpa, en de nex' mo'nin dem tell Mr. Flowers en him tek my grandpa Moses en gone to Able house, en dem gone up een de loft, en dey tru'es you born, was Able cumfutable een a big rice barrel! You know dem was big barrel dat time fu' hol' six hund'ed pound. W'en dem tek Able to Maussa him say, 'Well boy, I'm sorry you kyant mek up yu min' to wuk for me, you'se de only run-way I'se eber had, an' if you don' want to stay en wuk fu' me, I'll hav' to sell you I suppose.' Now, Miss Pashuns, yu see Gibbie cum f'um run-way stock, en all o' dem is triflin' no-count people."
Poor Gibbie, I didn't know his ancestral weaknesses, but I recognize the type—quitters all—start with a flourish, but soon leave the track. His mother came of better stock, she was a faithful worker; it is the father, whose name I always spell "Pshaw" because it describes him, who transmits the blood Chloe so scorns. I always have had a weak spot for Gibbie, and now I am more than ever conscious of it. Who of us rises above his inherited weaknesses? Not all, certainly.