“Dat ’ar incerdent stirred up my paketriotit feelin’s consider’ble at de moment. I couldn’t seem to see it in de light what p’raps I oughter seen it in. I rared roun’ a good deal, an’ fer a moment er two, I didn’t seem tar mind which side beat de oder. Jest dat ’casion. I doan’ say de sentiment continnered on, but jest dat ’casion seemed ter me like dar was a Yank somewhars es I wouldn’t hev ben agin seein’ takin’ a whuppin’ from some’un, Secesh or no Secesh.”
“What else did ye lose, Unc’ Matt?” someone said when the laugh died down.
“Well, I lose a wife—kinder cook dat dar ain’t no ’demnity kin make up fer when de Lawd’s removed ’em. An’ ’pears to me right dar, dat if I wusn’t a chu’ch member, I shed be led on ter say dat, considerin’ what a skaseness er good cooks dar is, seems like de good Lawd’s almost wasteful an’ stravagant, de way he lets ’em die off. Three uv ’em he ’moved from me to a better worl’. Not as I’m a man what’d wanter be sackerligious; but ’pears to me dar was mo’ wuk fur ’em to do in dis hyer dark worl’ er sin dan in de realms er glory. I may be wrong, but dat’s how it seem to a pore nigger like me.”
“The Government won’t pay for yer wife, Matt,” said the owner of the market waggon.
“Dat dey won’t, en dat dey cayn’t,” said Matt. “Dat las’ woman’s gumbo soup warn’t a thing to be ’demnified fer, dat it warn’t. But what I’m a aimin’ at is to fin’ out what dey will pay fer, en how much. Dar was one mawnin’ I sot at my do’ reflectin’ on de Gawsp’l, an’ de Yanks come jest a tarin’ down de road, licketty switch, licketty switch, yellin’ like de debil let loose, en firin’ of dere pistols, an’ I gotter ’fess I los’ a heap a courage dat time—an’ I los’ a heap o’ breath runnin’ ’way from ’em en outer sight. Now I know de Gov’ment not gwine ter pay me fer losin’ dem things, but what is dey gwine pay for losin’?”
“Property, they say—crops ‘n’ houses, ‘n’ barns, ‘n’ truck wuth money.”
Uncle Matt removed his hat, and looked into the crown of it as if for instruction before he wiped his forehead and put it on again.
“Aye-yi! Dey is, is dey?” he said. “Property—en houses, en barns, en truck wuth money? Dey’ll hev a plenty to pay, ef dey begins dat game, won’t dey? Dey’ll hev ter dig down inter de Gov’ment breeches pocket pretty deep, dat dey will. Doan’ see how de Pres’dent gwine ter do it out’n what dey ’lows him, less’n dey ’lows him mighty big pocket money.”
“’Tain’t the President, Matt,” said one of the crowd. “It’s the Nation.”
“Oh, it’s de Nation!” said Matt. “De Nation. Well, Mr. Nation gwine fin’ he got plenty ter do—early en late.”