[The editors feel that they will not be treating their readers fairly unless they call especial attention to this picture of Alabama negro life and the unusual cleverness of the dialect.—Editors Taylor-Trotwood.]
The town of Luckville had been from its very beginning “wet;” that is, there had always been a saloon or “doggery,” at which whisky could be bought by the pint, quart or gallon.
But the discovery of phosphate beds in the river near town had brought in a number of new residents, many of them “temperance folks.” So at the next election the town voted “dry,” and no liquor could be bought there except from the drug store by a doctor’s prescription.
This law remained in force for three years, and now, on the verge of another election, the opposing factions were busily and earnestly at work for their respective sides. It was at this time and under these conditions that Aunt Hetty began loudly to proclaim her opinions on the “wet and the dry.”
“Humph! De whi’ fo’ks is all de time er-gittin’ up some kin’ er ructions er nuther ’long uv deyse’fs! Dat’s des whut mek me say whut I does—dat de whi’ fo’ks is de cuttin’upist an’ de gwineonist fo’ks dat de good Lawd evah made! Dey’s er-votin’, er dey’s er-fightin’, er dey’s er-co’tin’ up teh de cote-house, er dey’s er-doin’ sump’n er-nudder dat-a-way de whole indurin’ resistunce uv dey time! Now dey’s ’scussin’ uv de ’wet an’ de dry’! Humph!
“Hit’s all one teh me! I knows I ain’t er-gwine teh hab no bar-room mahse’f, an’ I ain’t er-gwine teh pestah nobuddy frum habin’ er bar-room ef dey wants one. Dat’s des perzac’ly whar I stan’s.
“I done seen de wuckin’s uv de bar-rooms, an’ ergin, on de yutheh han’, I done seen de wuckin’s uv de drug-sto’. I done study uv ’em bofe thu’ de ’newvehmunts uv dat ole niggah Pomp, whut nomuhnates hisse’f mah husbun’—do’ I ain’t nevah seen no mighty ’mount uv husbun’ ’bout him. He’s des er lazy, biggity, ornerary ole black niggah, whut got hisse’f tied up in de bon’s er macremony des feh teh git his vittles an’ his lodgmunts. But he done bin er-livin’ er-long uv me now er-gwine on a mighty heap uv yeahs, an’ I got so used teh see him er-hangin’ ’roun’ mah house tell hit ’pyears lak I cyarn’ do bedoutin’ him—lak sump’n’s er-missin’ ef he ain’t dar.
“But ’scusin’ all dat, he sho’ is de ontemperatist man, white er black, dat evah wuz bawn! He des natch’ly bleedged feh teh drink ef he knows dar’s enny kin’ uv liquidmunts er-roun’! W’en de whi’ fo’ks had de bar-rooms ole Pomp he got pow’ful pyeart! He tuck’n tuck my ax an’ went all er-bout er-splittin’ an’ er-cuttin’ up wood—but de Lawd knows he ain’t nevah cut an’ split none feh me! An’ den he digged in de blossom patches feh de whi’ fo’ks. An’ let er-lone all er dat, mah hens got teh doin’ mighty cur’s—dey’d cackle lak dey wuz er-layin’ pow’ful, but I nevah could fin’ de fust rudemunts uv er aig. I mought er done a onjustice to de po’ ole niggah, but I ’spicioned him ’caze I hearn tell uv him er-sellin’ aigs, an’ hit don’t ’pyeah natch’l feh er man teh sell aigs w’en he ain’ got no hens uv his own feh teh lay ’em. Dem two ingrejunces—hens an’ aigs—des ’pintedly b’long to one er-nuther. Ef you got hens you’ll git aigs, an’ ef you ain’t you won’t. Dat is, not natch’ly! Uv co’se dey is shawt cuts you kin take feh to git ’em, an’ I ’spicioned mah ole man uv takin’ dem vehy cuts—an’ mah aigs wid ’em.
“Well, dem an’ his wuckin’s fotch him in a little sal’ry, an’ evah night he’d go teh de bar-room. Ef he had fo’ bits he’d buy er fo’-bit bottle; ef he had two bits he’d buy er two-bit bottle; so, ’cordin’ teh his bits wuz de size uv his bottle. Den he’d stan’ er-roun’ an’ tell his ’speriunces an’ notate his tales, an’ sing his chunes, an’ de gen’l’mun would treat him to beeh an’ segahs. An’ des es long es dat bar-room stay open, ole Pomp, he’d stay dar. An’ evah night hit wuz de same thing! Evah regitimate cent Pomp could scrape up stopped slap dar in dat bar-room!