The Chronicles of Aunt Minervy Ann

by Joel Chandler Harris

“Marse Bolivar look at me right hard, den he look at Mary Ellen, an’ den he pull at de tip-een’ er his year. Wellum, I fair helt my breff; I say ter myse’f, ‘Man, whyn’t you look at poor Miss Sally’s pictur’? I wuz feared a fly might light on ’im an’ change his min’. But, look at de pictur’ he did, an’ dat settled it.

“He ’low, ‘Set down, Mary Ellen; you look tired. Minervy Ann, fetch ’er a drink er water.’ Wellum, you may well b’lieve dat I flied up an’ flew’d ’roun’ an’ fotch dat water. Den he ’low, ‘Minervy Ann, go in dar an’ straighten out dat parlor; fling open de blinds an’ do ’bout in dar!’”

Again Aunt Minervy Ann arose from her reclining position by the sofa and stood in the floor; again, by a wave of her hand, she brought the scene before our eyes.

“I stood dar, I did, an’ look at dat man. I ’low, ‘Marse Bolivar, less’n it’s Marse Tumlin, youer de bes’ man dat God A’mighty ever breathe de breath er life inter!’ He rub his han’ over his face an’ say, ‘Dang yo’ ol’ hide! go on an’ hush up! Fum de time I fust know’d you, you been gittin’ me an’ Tumlin in hot water.’

“I flung back at ’im, ‘’Tain’t never scald you! ’Tain’t never been too deep fer you!’ He straighten hisse’f up an’ helt his head back an’ laugh. He ’low, ‘Dang it all, Minervy Ann! Dey er times when I want it bofe hot an’ deep. You go an’ scuffle ’roun’ in dat parlor, an’ don’t you let yo’ Mis’ Em’ly do a han’s-turn in dar.’

“Wellum, dat uz ’bout de upshot un it. De Northron lady wuz name Miss Wilbur, er Willard, I disremember which, but she was a mighty nice white gal. Marse Bolivar an’ Hamp wuz bofe at de train ter meet ’er, an’ Marse Bolivar fotch ’er right ter de house, an’ show’d ’er in de parlor. Atter while, Mary Ellen went in dar, an’ ’twuz a mighty meetin’ ’twix um. Dey chattered same ez a flock er blackbirds on a windy day; an’ atter so long a time Marse Bolivar went in dar. ’Twa’n’t long ’fo’ he got ter tellin’ tales, an’ de Northron lady laugh so she kin hardly set on de cheer. Den he open de pianner, an’ ax de white lady ter play, but she vow she can’t play atter he been hearin’ Mary Ellen. Den he say, ‘Won’t you play me a chune, Mary Ellen? Sump’n ol’ timey?’

“Dat gal went ter de pianner, ma’am, an’ sot dar wid her han’s over her face like she prayin’, an’ den she laid her han’s on de keys an’ started a chune des like yo’ hear in yo’ dreams. It got a little louder, an’ den present’y you could hear ’er singin’. I never did know whar’bouts her voice slipped inter dat chune; but dar ’twuz, an’ it fit in wid de pianner des like a flute does.

“Wellum, it tuck me back, way back dar in de ol’ days, an’ den brung me down ter later times, fer many a moonlight night did I hear Miss Sally an’ Mary Ellen sing dat song when dey wuz chillun. Den atter dat de Northron lady plump herse’f down at de pianner, an’ she sho did shake dat ol’ shebang up. ’Twuz dish yer highfalutin’ music what sprung up sence de war, an’ it sho sound like war ter me, drums a-rattlin’, guns a-shootin’, an’ forty-levm brass horns all tootin’ a diffunt chune.

“When train-time come, ma’am, de Northron lady ax Mary Ellen ef she won’t go ter de train wid ’er. But Marse Bolivar spoke up an’ say dat Mary Ellen been feelin’ bad all de mornin’, an’ she hatter skuzen ’er. He went wid de lady hisse’f, an’ when he come back Mary Ellen tol’ ’im she never would fergit what he done fer her dat day, an’ say she gwine ter pay ’im back some day.