The Chronicles of Aunt Minervy Ann

by Joel Chandler Harris

“De bank wuz des ez good ez any bank, an’ folks got back all dey put in dar des ez soon ez dey’d let ol’ Joshaway show his head in town; but he drapt dat kinder bizness an’ went back ter farmin’ an’ note-shavin’. An’ all bekaze he want skyority fer Marse Tumlin, which his word des ez good ez his bon’. He mought not er had de money when de clock struck de minit, but what diffunce do dat make when you know a man’s des ez good ez gol’? Huh! no wonder dey broke ol’ Joshaway down!”

Aunt Minervy Ann’s indignation was a fine thing to behold. Her scorn of the man who wanted Major Perdue to put up security for his note was as keen and as bitter as it had been the day the episode occurred. She paused at this point as if her narrative had come to an end. Therefore, I put in a suggestion.

“Was this what you call frailing out the Gossett boys?”

“No, suh,” she protested, with a laugh; “all deze yer gwines-on ’bout dat ar bank wuz des de ’casion un it. You bleeze ter know dem Gossett boys, suh. Dey had sorter cool down by de time you come here, but dey wuz still ripe fer any devilment dat come ’long. Dar wuz Rube an’ Sam an’ John Henry, an’ a’er one un um wuz big ez a hoss. Dey use ter come ter town eve’y Chuseday an’ Sat’day, an’ by dinner-time dey’d be a-whoopin’ an’ hollin’ in de streets, an’ a-struttin’ ’roun’ mashin’ folks’ hats down on der eyes. Not all de folks, but some un um. An’ all fer fun; dat what dey say.

“Tooby sho’, dey had a spite ag’in Marse Tumlin and Marse Bolivar atter de bank busted. Dey show’d it by gwine des so fur; dey’d fling out der hints; but dey kep’ on de safe side, ’kaze Marse Tumlin wa’n’t de man fer ter go ’roun’ huntin’ a fuss, ner needer wuz Marse Bolivar; but fetch a fuss an’ lay it in der laps, ez you may say, an’ dey’d play wid it an’ dandle it, an’ keep it fum ketchin’ col’. Dey sho’ would, suh. When dem Gossett boys’d come ter town, Marse Tumlin an’ Marse Bolivar would des set’ ’roun’ watchin’ um, des waitin’ twel dey cross de dead-line. But it seem like dey know des how fur ter go, an’ right whar ter stop.

“Well, suh, it went on dis away fer I dunner how long, but bimeby, one day, our ol’ cow got out, an’ ’stidder hangin’ ’roun’ an’ eatin’ de grass in de streets like any yuther cow would ’a’ done, she made a straight shoot fer de plantation whar she come fum.

“Miss Vallie tol’ Marse Tumlin ’bout it, an’ he say he gwine atter her. Den some er de niggers in de nex’ lot tol’ me dat de cow wuz out an’ gone, an’ I put out atter her, too, not knowin’ dat Marse Tumlin wuz gwine. He went de front street an’ I went de back way. Ef de town wuz big ez de streets is long, we’d have a mighty city down here; you know dat yo’se’f, suh. De place whar de back street jines in wid de big road is mighty nigh a mile fum de tempunce hall, an’ when I got dar, dar wuz Marse Tumlin polin’ ’long. I holler an’ ax ’im whar he gwine. He say he gwine atter a glass er milk. Den he ax me whar I gwine. I say I’m gwine atter dat ol’ frame dat nigh-sighted folks call a cow. He ’low dat he’d be mighty thankful ef de nex’ time I tuck a notion fer ter turn de cow out I’d tell ’im befo’han’ so he kin run ’roun’ an’ head ’er off an’ drive ’er back. He wuz constant a-runnin’ on dat away. He’d crack his joke, suh, ef he dyin’.

“We went trudgin’ ’long twel we come ’pon de big hill dat leads down ter de town branch. You know de place, suh. De hill mighty steep, an’ on bofe sides er de road der’s a hedge er Cherrykee roses; some folks calls um Chickasaw; but Chicky er Cherry, dar dey wuz, growin’ so thick a rabbit can’t hardly squeeze thoo um. On one side dey wuz growin’ right on de aidge uv a big gully, an’ at one place de groun’ wuz kinder caved in, an’ de briar vines wuz swayin’ over it.

“Well, suh, des ez we got on de hill-top, I hear a buggy rattlin’ an’ den I hear laughin’ an’ cussin’. I lookt ’roun’, I did, an’ dar wuz de Gossett boys, two in de buggy an’ one ridin’ hossback; an’ all un um full er dram. I could tell dat by de way dey wuz gwine on. You could hear um a mile, cussin’ one an’er fer eve’ything dey kin think un an’ den laughin’ ’bout it. Sump’n tol’ me dey wuz gwine ter be a rumpus, bekaze three ter one wuz too good a chance for de Gossett boys ter let go by. I dunner what make me do it, but when we got down de hill a little piece, I stoop down, I did, an’ got me a good size rock.