“How different—how very different from the home life of our own dear queen!”
§ 25 Where the Partnership Dissolved
One of the oldest stories in the known world—and in my humble judgment one of the best ones—deals with three actors—an aged negro, an itinerant conjurer and a twelve pound snapping-turtle.
It is a hot day in a Mississippi countryside. The conjurer, who is making his way across country afoot, is sitting alongside the dusty road, resting. There passes him an ancient negro returning from a fishing expedition. The darky is not going home empty-handed. He has captured a huge snapping-turtle. He is holding it fast by its long tail, which is stretched tautly over his right shoulder so that the flat undershell of the captive rests against his back. He bids the stranger a polite good-morning and trudges on. He has gone perhaps twenty feet further when an impish inspiration leaps into the magician’s brain. In addition to his other gifts he is by way of being a fair ventriloquist.
He throws his voice into the turtle’s mouth and speaking in a muddy, guttural tone such as would be suitable to a turtle if a turtle ever indulged in conversation, he says sharply:
“Look here, nigger, where are you taking me?”
The old man freezes in his tracks. He rolls his eyes rearward. There is the look of a vast, growing, terrific bewilderment on his face.
“W-h-who—who dat speakin’ to me?” he asks falteringly.
“It’s me speakin’ to you,” the turtle seemingly says, “here on your back. I asked you where you were taking me.”
“Huh, boss,” cries the old man, “I ain’t takin’ you nowhars—I’se leavin’ you right yere!”