It looked curius.
And jest as I wuz a standin’ still in my tracks, a ponderin’ over the meanin’ of it, and a leanin’ on the rough fence that run along by the roadside, a old darkey come along with a mule hitched onto a rickety buggy with a rope. And I akosted him, and asked him what wuz the meanin’ of that big black chimbly a standin’ up in that curius way.
He seemed awful ready to stop and talk. It wuz the hot weather, I spoze. And the mule had called for sights of labor to get him along, I could see that—and he sez:
“De Cadimy used to stand dar.”
Sez I, “The school-house for the colored people?”
“Yes,” sez he.
“How did it come to be burned down?” sez I.
“De white folks buhnt it down,” sez he calmly.
“What for?” sez I.