“Long in de fifties I spliced up wid a likely young widder dat wuz de sod-relic of Brer Simon Harris, a ’piscopal brudder up at Nashville. Befo’ dat she had been de relic of several gent’men of color. Fur a week or so I wuz so busy co’rtin’ her dat I wa’n’t very ’tickler jis’ whut her entitlements an’ habilerments wuz, nur jis’ whut mineral rights an’ easements went wid de property.
“I’ve allers noticed it’s dat a way in de co’rtin’ stage an’ hits a wise dispensashun of ole Marster to trap us all into matremony an’ make us blin’, like snakes in August; an’ eb’ry one of us, when he gits his seckin’ sight arter de entrapment, wakes up to fin’ dat in de deed to de state of matremony dar has been passed wid de free-hold a few hererditerments dat he didn’t cal’late went wid de lan’.
“Sum of us, of co’rse nurver gits dey seckin’ sight at all.
“But I ain’t talkin’ of dem. I’ve nurver writ a fool’s almernac yit!
“But I claims I am de only man dat urver got fo’ muther-in-laws, when I didn’t ’spec’ to git eny!
“Arter a breef but very pinted co’rtship, in which I done de usual close-settin’, low-layin’ an’ tall lyin’, I hitched up my team an’ driv’ up to Nashville an’ married Sally. Arter de circus I driv’ de team ’round to de door fur to carry her home an’ I went in fur to pack up her things. I got ’em all in one big box, fur Brer Simon hadn’t been very felicertus in passin’ round de hat, an’ when I tuck it out to de wag’n dar sot Sally an’ fo’ uther ladies all es cheerful an’ happy as fo’ ole tabby-cats in a hay loft.
“’Dese am my muthers, Wash,’ sez Sally sweetly, ’an’ of co’rse dey am all gwine to lib wid us.’”
“‘Look heah, gal,’ sez I sorter faintly, ‘I ain’t nurver heerd of enybody havin’ mor’n one muther.”
“‘Dese other three am jes’ as dear,’ seys she, p’intin’ to de three ole ladies, ‘dat’s Simon’s muther, dat’s mine, an’ dem two ober dar—’
“Boss, I nearly had a fit! Do you kno’ dat gal had de muthers of ebry one of her fus’ husbands dar an’ claimin’ dey wuz mighty nigh to her?