The Chronicles of Aunt Minervy Ann

by Joel Chandler Harris

“I say, ‘Marse Tumlin, you dunner nothin’ ’tall ’bout Hamp. He must er change mighty sence dey ’fo’ yistidy if he erfuse ter do what I tell ’im ter do. Ef dat de case, I’ll go up dar an’ frail ’im out an’ come on back home an’ ten’ ter my work.’

“Marse Tumlin look at me wid his eyes half shot an’ kinder laugh way down in his stomach. He ’low, ‘Minervy Ann, I been livin’ a long time, an’ I been knowin’ a heap er folks, but you er de bangin’est nigger I ever is see. Free ez you is, I wouldn’t take two thousan’ dollars fer you, cash money. I’ll git Bolivar, an’ we’ll go up dar on de mornin’ train. Vallie kin stay wid er aunt. ’Tain’t gwine ter hurt you ter go; I want you ter see some things fer yo’se’f.’

“Well, suh, sho’ ’nuff, de nex’ mornin’ me an’ Marse Tumlin an’ Marse Bolivar, we got on de train, an’ put out, an’ ’twa’n’t long ’fo’ we wuz pullin’ in under de kyar-shed. Dat ’uz de fus’ time I ever is been ter dis town, an’ de racket an’ de turmoil kinder tarrify me, but when I see ’t’er folks gwine ’long ’tendin’ ter der bizness, ’twa’n’t no time ’fo’ I tuck heart, ’kaze dar wuz Marse Tumlin an’ Marse Bolivar right at me, an’ dey wuz bowin’ an’ shakin’ han’s wid mos’ eve’ybody dat come ’long. Dey wuz two mighty pop’lous white men, suh; you know dat yo’se’f.

“I ’speck de train must ’a’ got in ’fo’ de Legislatur’ sot down, ’kaze when we went th’oo a narrer street an’ turn inter de one what dey call Decatur, whar dey carry on all de devilment, I hear Marse Tumlin say dat we wuz ’bout a hour too soon. Right atter dat Marse Bolivar say, ‘Tumlin, dat ar nigger man ’cross dar wid de gals is got a mighty familious look ter me; I done been seed ’im somewhar, sho’.’ Marse Tumlin say, ‘Dat’s a fac’; I used ter know dat man some’rs.’ Well, suh, I lookt de way dey wuz a-lookin’, an’ dar wuz Hamp! Yassar! Hamp! Hamp an’ two mulatter gals. An’ I wish you could ’a’ seed um; I des wish you could! Dar wuz Hamp all diked out in his Sunday cloze which I tol’ ’im p’intedly not ter w’ar while he workin’ in de Legislatur’. He had a segyar in his mouf mos’ ez big an’ ez long ez a waggin-spoke, an’ dar he wuz a-bowin’ an’ scrapin’, an’ scrapin’ an’ gigglin’, an’ de mulatter gals wuz gigglin’ an’ snickerin’ an’ squealin’—I declaire, Mr. Tumlin! you oughter be ’shame er yo’se’f; oh, youer too b-a-a-a-d!’”

With powers of mimicry unequalled, Aunt Minervy Ann illustrated the bowing and scraping of Hamp, and reproduced the shrill but not unmusical voices of the mulatto girls.

“I tell you de trufe, suh, whiles you could count ten you might ’a’ pusht me over wid a straw, an’ den, suh, my dander ’gun ter rise. I must ’a’ show’d it in my looks, ’kaze Marse Tumlin laid his han’ on my shoulder an’ say, ‘Don’t kick up no racket, Minervy Ann; you got Hamp right whar you want ’im. You know what we come fer.’ Well, suh, I hatter stan’ dar an’ swaller right hard a time er two, ’kaze I ain’t got no use fer mulatters; to make um, you got ter spile good white blood an’ good nigger blood, an’ when dey er made dey got in um all dat’s mean an’ low down on bofe sides, an’ ef dey yever is ter be saved, dey’ll all hatter be baptize twice han’ runnin’—once fer de white dat’s in um, and once fer de black. De Bible mayn’t sesso, but common-sense’ll tell you dat much.

“Well, suh, I stood dar some little time watchin’ Hamp’s motions, an’ he wuz makin’ sech a big fool er hisse’f dat I des come mighty nigh laughin’ out loud, but all dat time Marse Tumlin had de idee dat I wuz mad, an’ when I start to’rds Hamp, wid my pairsol grabbed in de middle, he ’low, ‘Min’ yo’ eye, Minervy Ann.’ I walk up, I did, an’ punch Hamp in de back wid de pairsol. Ef I’d ’a’ hit ’im on de head wid a pile-driver, he couldn’t ’a’ been mo’ dum’founder’d. He look like he wuz gwine th’oo’ de sidewalk. I say, ‘When you git time, I’d like ter have a little chat wid you.’ He ’low, ‘Why, why’—an’ wid dat he stuck de lit een’ er his segyar in his mouf. Well, suh, you may b’lieve you done seed splutterin’ an’ splatterin’, but you ain’t never seed none like dat. He made a motion, Hamp did, like he wanter make me ’painted wid de mulatter gals, but I say, ‘When you git time fum yo’ Legislatur’, I got a sesso fer you ter hear.’

“Wid dat, suh, I turn ’roun’ an’ cross de street an’ foller on atter Marse Tumlin an’ Marse Bolivar. I ain’t mo’n git ’cross, ’fo’ here come Hamp. He ’low, ‘Why, honey, whyn’t you tell me you wuz comin’? When’d you come?’ I say, ‘Oh, I’m honey, is I? Well, maybe you’ll fin’ a bee in de comb.’ He ’low, ‘Whyn’t you tell me you wuz comin’ so I kin meet you at de train?’ I say, ‘I wanter see what kinder fambly you got in dis town. An’ I seed it! I seed it!’

“Well, suh, I ’speck I’d ’a’ got mad ag’in, but ’bout dat time we cotch up wid Marse Tumlin an’ Marse Bolivar. Marse Tumlin turn ’roun’, he did, an’ holler out, ‘Well, ef here ain’t Minervy Ann! What you doin’ up here, an’ how did you lef’ yo’ Miss Vallie?’ He shuck han’s des like he ain’t see me befo’ in a mont’, an’ Marse Bolivar done de same. I humor’d um, suh, but I ain’t know what dey wuz up ter fer long atterwards. Dey don’t want Hamp ter know dat I come ’long wid um. Den dey went on, an’ me an’ Hamp went ter whar he stay at.

“When I got ’im off by hisse’f, suh, he sot in ter tellin’ me how come ’im ter be wid dem ar gals, an’ he want me ter know um, an’ he know mighty well I’d like um—you know how men-folks does, suh. But dey wa’n’t na’er minit in no day dat yever broke when Hamp kin fool me, an’ he know’d it. But I let ’im run on. Bimeby, when he get tired er splanifyin’, I ’low, ‘What dat paper what Marse Tumlin ax you ter put in de Legislatur’?’ He say, ‘How you know ’bout dat?’ I ’low, ‘I hear Marse Tumlin tellin’ Miss Vallie ’bout it, an’ I hear Miss Vallie wonder an’ wonder what de matter wid you.’