There is a tradition down there that if a mule kicks a darky on the head the wretched mule is sure to go lame.
When I was down there I happened to notice a little colored girl limping along the street, her feet done up in immense bandages of sacking.
"What's the matter with your feet?" was my natural inquiry.
"My fadder done hit me on de haid while I was standin' on an iron cellar door," was the response.
When I got to Charleston there was a circus in town, and after doing my matinee stunt at the local theatre, I got around to the circus.
There was a pretty fair menagerie along with the show, and it was a treat to me to stand around and hear the original and quaint remarks of the negroes, many of whom had never before in their lives seen lions and elephants.
One big ugly gorilla seemed to attract them above all other living curiosities, and he was a fierce sight, I assure you.
I saw an old wizened-up aunty stand in front of his cage a long time, speechless with awe, and finally heard her vent her feelings in the words:
"Foah massa sakes alibe, if he ain't jest like de ole-time culled folks."