Jos. Jones.
P.S.—Miss Mary most fainted when she heard the noos ’bout my hoss throwin’ me. Don’t you think that’s a good sign?
LETTER III.
Pineville, December 20th, 1842.
Dear Sir,
It seems our folks always is in a fuss. First it was movin’, then it was hog killin’, and now everything’s topsy-turvy makin’ reddy for Crismus. I do believe the niggers is scowered every spot from the garret to the dore-steps; and every time I comes into the hous they’s all hollerin’ out: “Thar, now, Mas Joe, jist look at your tracks!” and “Don’t you spit on the herth, for it’s just redened!” and “Don’t you spit agin the jam!” and sich foolery, jist as if people’s houses wasn’t made for ’em to live in.
It really puts me out of all patience to see such nonsensical doins. And mother, she’s had all the niggers choppin’ sasage-meat to make mince-pies, and poundin’ spice and ginger, and makin’ marvels, and beatin’ eggs to make pound-cake, and all sorts of sweet doin’s for Crismus, for when she takes anything into her head, she ain’t agwine to be outdone not by nobody.
She ses Crismus don’t come but once a-year now-a-days, and she’s gwine to treat it handsum when it does cum—she’s gwine to show the Stallinses that she’s use to as good livin’ as most of folkes. Well, I glory in her spunk, but it’s monstrous expensive and unpleasant to go things on the big figer that she’s on now; it never ought to be done only to wedin’s, and it wouldn’t do then, whar ther was to be many in the same family. Do tell us what upon yearth all this talk means about the world comin’ to a eend next April. I’ve heard a great deal about Miller’s doctrine lately. Now I don’t like to believe no sich nonsense; but if it was to come out true, I wouldn’t like to be so tuck in.
Mother and old Miss Stallins, and two or three more old ladies, is in a mighty fidget about it, and mother dreamed she seed two moons t’other night, and one of ’em was all blazin’ with fire, and flyin’ about in the sky like all wrath. I don’t ’zactly know what to think about it, but ther’s one thing sartin, it’s got to begin monstrous early in the mornin’ on the third day of April, if I ain’t up to see it. If anybody was to set the woods a fire ’bout Pineville, jest at that time, I wouldn’t like to answer for the consequence among the old wimin.