“Dere’s one thing dat I can’t understan’,” said William Gorrell, the doorkeeper at the Southern Manufacturers’ Club. “Yes, sir, an’ it’s puzzled me er whole heap.”
“What is that, William?” I inquired.
“How come you don’t hear ’bout no nigger havin’ dese new fangle diseases—dis here bell-aker an’ ’penderseetis.”
“Bell-aker?” I asked.
“Yes, sir, dis misery dat comes fum eatin’ corn. How come no nigger don’t have it? Dere ain’t nobudy whut eats more corn bread an’ mush dan er sho’ ’nuff nigger. Up home—dat’s in Greensboro—de niggers say:
“‘Down de country de nigger say he loves mush,
“‘Up de country de nigger say for God’s sake hush!’
William.
“Haf’ de niggers in dis country’s been raised on mush, an’ corn dodger, an’ I ain’t never seed one die wid bell-aker.”