Читать книгу Ole Mars an' Ole Miss - Edmund K. Goldsborough - Страница 9

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Hayland Meadow was some ten miles in length, and on the upper half, used for growing timothy and for grazing, here and there stood aristocratic-looking trees—poplar, black-walnut, majestic oaks, imposing and graceful elms. The lower half was thickly wooded with smaller trees of many varieties, among which flourished the persimmon. Nature had with generous hands festooned many of the trees with wild grapevines, and when these were in bloom and twilight dews fell upon their blossoms, they filled that meadow with a delicious fragrance, sweet enough for Eden; every dewdrop in the dell seemed perfumed.

Through this vale, over mossy stones and snowy pebbles, chattered and meandered a crystal creek which joined other streams and emptied at Hayland marsh into Miles River.

The woodcock nested there, and in warm June days dozed under the shade of the fine old trees; and there the oriole sang a lullaby to her hanging cradle that rocked in the wind.

The tranquilness of the place was never disturbed save by the canticles of song birds and the almost nightly baying of some coon dog, for until of late the darkies never thought of going anywhere else to put up coons or ’possums than “Haylan’” Branch, as they called it.

Little Billy was not pious, and, if he knew his prayers, never said them. He doted on all sorts of sports, and, though a poor shot, entered all the turkey-shooting contests Thanksgiving Day. He chewed the best tobacco, danced with the dancers, played the banjo and jewsharp, always had a jug of molasses, a pair of gum boots, fiddle-strings and fiddle—all purchased with his coon, ’possum and muskrat money.

Scipio Jones’ experience had pretty well frightened off Miles River Neck hunters (see “Romp’s Mustake”), but of late darkies from Queen Anne’s and Caroline Counties had been hunting Hayland Branch, and Billy became jealous, wanting to be the only hunter, and sought to get his Mars Pinckney, who owned the meadow, to help him; and his success was more than he anticipated.

“Romp’s Mustake” had been talked about until the story had so grown that most of the darkies thought the cat a ghost, and among the converts was Scip’ Jones. The matter was discussed at bush meetings, corn-huskings and cake-walks; so after the christening of Mollie Jones’ son (Scipio Jonas Jones) at Zion Church, John Poney, Uncle Stephen Demby and Scip’ Jones were appointed to investigate Hayland Branch.

MARS PINCKNEY WHEN A BOY.

Billy was at the christening, of course, and wanted the ghost story to flourish, as it kept Talbot coon hunters from the branch. So he told his Mars Pinckney that “niggahs cum fum Kyarline an’ Queen Anne’s County ter hunt dat mash an’ branch, an’ ’skusin’ de Talbot hunters, he wouldn’ be s’prised ef dey som’ time, when dey hongry, teck de oysters fum de cove;” (Billy did)—“an’, young Marster, won’ you qualify me ter say dat de branch hanted pow’ful?”

His Mars’ Pinckney said with sternness: “Billy, that is not the truth! I want, however, to keep rogues and intruders out, and I will make and give you something that will scare every nigger out of my meadow from this day forward forevermore.”

So his Mars Pinckney, full of youth and deviltry, took a big pumpkin, cut a hole through the top and bottom, and through the latter pushed a tallow candle with a big wick. He cut eyeholes and a mouth, and, at Billy’s suggestion, tacked on a medium-sized cucumber for a nose, and on the sides or cheeks of the pumpkin, put sheepskin for whiskers, as Billy said, “ter meck hit look sassy;” and then a grapevine was trimmed up and tied through the top, and Billy was instructed what to do.

Parson Phil Demby was to baptize some sisters the next day—Sunday—and Billy thought that a good time to consummate his plans.

It was very cold. The boys were skating, and the sisters were dipped where the farmers had been cutting ice the day before. When Tilly Mink was shoved under she had one of her pockets full of apples. The water shocked her so, she immediately commenced to throw her arms around, pawed the bottom, pawed Parson Demby overturned an’ thoroughly drenched him (it was an honest dip) and pawed and tore the pocketful of apples; and when Little Billy saw the apples come popping up, bobbing like net-corks, and the Parson’s haste to get on dry land, he called out:

“Jes’ gib huh ’nubba dip, Pawson Demby; huh sins is cummin’ up fum huh in clustahs!”

The negroes on the shore thought salvation at last had struck Billy, and, the immersion over, they crowded about him.

Billy in a moment embraced his opportunity, and after a few remarks about the cold, wanted to know where he could buy another coon dog; expatiated upon the coon and ’possum tracks he had recently seen in Hayland meadows, and further said, apparently unconcerned:

“I kyant ondastan why dey don’ hunt dat branch mo’. Ef’n I had uh nubba dog (Jasper is foot-sore, an’ I gwine ter git one), I’d pestah dat lubly branch when ebnin’ cum, an’ ornless hit snow er rain, I’d hunt ev’y parf in it.”

Jes’ gib huh an-nubba dip, Pawson Demby, huh sins is cummin’ up fum huh in clusters!

Then and there the witch committee arranged for a hunt the next night. They asked Billy to go, but “he wuz gwine ter Kyarline County futto buy uh dog.”

The moon was new and went down about 11 o’clock, and Billy calculated they would be along about that hour. So, holding the grapevine in his hand, he climbed a witch-elm tree, threw the vine over its slippery limb, rested his pumpkin-face on the ground, and whilst he was “meddowtatin’” he heard the voice of Scipio say to his thoroughbred hound: “Put ’im up, Noahy!” and later, “I like de stile an’ rovin’ ub dat dog, don’ you, Uncle Stephen?”

Uncle Stephen said, “Monstus fine! Carry hissef jes’ like uh houn’ I hunted over lars’ wintah in Kyarline County dat wuz stole fum de man dat los’ him; an’ I heah him say he hope dat dog tree nuffin fuh de pusson dat stole him ’ceppin’ ghos’es, witches an’ sperrits, an’ ef’n he ebba ketch him, dis uth wud trimble when he twiss he neck.”

Scip’s eyes began to feel too big—his roguery rebuked him; Noahy was the stolen dog. But his conscience was momentarily relieved by Noahy’s giving tongue, and was tickled and delighted when Uncle Stephen said:

“Dat’s uh coon, an’ dat’s uh qualified coon dog; uh sweetah tongue I ain’ heahd sence Mars’ Nickey’s Jerry-Myah died, name arfter a profit; an’ he wuz a profit, too.”

By this time they were all in a brisk trot, Uncle Stephen grumbling about the pace and declaring he could not keep up.

The witch committee were about one hundred and fifty yards from Billy, and when he saw the dog some thirty yards off, and hunting towards him, he quickly lit the tallow candle and slowly pulled the pumpkin face a few feet from the ground. Noahy saw it in a moment, retreated and yelped like a wild dog. All was consternation, and all hearts went pitapat. Presently Uncle Stephen, who had the most courage, said:

“’Pears ter me dat dog cum ’long wid som’ varment he ain’ ’quainted wid. I had a composation yistiddy week wid uh coon hunter I’s knowed fuh uh long time, an’ he say dogs dat ain’ ris on de watah al’ays gits skeered de fus’ time dey see pompusses an’ shirks playin’ on de ribber sho’.”

Scipio caressed the dog with trembling hands, and said:

“I don’ ondastan’ de ’spression ub dis dog. Otters is ornpropper varments ter projic’ wid; maybe he s’prised a sleepin’ otter, an’ de otter smack him, an’ den babtiz him in de creek tell he mos’ drown. Dey will do it! ’Specially on de new moon.”

John Poney said: “De dog mus’ uh scent dat witch Scipio bu’n de tail ub, sted killin’. Hit wuz ornrichious not ter kill dat witch, an’ de fus’ ting we know, de witch will hab young uns, an’ den dis branch will hab ter be gib up, kase uh branch full ub scan’lous witches is wuss’n uh woods full ub sperrits.”

Scipio Jones (affrighted): “Don’ talk dat way, Brer Poney.”

By this time Billy had slowly pulled his pumpkin face some twenty feet from the ground, and as the witch-elm bow was gently moved by the breeze, it gave the pumpkin face such a weird look that even Billy got lonesome. Uncle Stephen, less timid and more observant, though behind, was the first to see the pumpkin face. With a gasp, and dropping quickly on his knees, he wailed:

“Ef’n you is a ghos’, Mars’ Ghos’, I ’spec you is uh ghos’, an’ ef’n you is uh witch, my Mistis Witch, I ’spec you is uh witch! I nebber sed nuffin ergin ghos’es an’ witches in meh life, an’ I’s 70 year ole—an’ nebber see an’ bleebe in witches an’ ghos’es; but I bleebe now, ’fo’ de Lawd, I do! an’ now I ondastan’ why dis branch so full ub witch-elm an’ witch-hazel trees.”

Just then Billy gave his grapevine a gentle pull, bobbed the pumpkin, and Uncle Stephen, more frightened than ever, exclaimed in great humility:

“O Lawd, ’fen’ Stephen, an’ let he salbation resis’ dat witch, an’ de witch resis’ he salbation, an’ keep de witch fum leadin’ po’ Stephen ter”——

“Is you got de kramps, Uncle Stephen?” half frantically exclaimed Scip’. Uncle Stephen pointed his trembling hands at the witch-elm tree, and Scipio and John saw the pumpkin face.

A few minutes thereafter Uncle Stephen was trotting homeward alone—tired, dejected and scared almost out of his senses, and every now and then ejaculating, as he stumbled and trotted along:

“Dat orn’ry niggah, Scipio Jones, done breck up coon huntin’ in dis branch!”

Scipio and John ran until they came to a haystack some two miles away, in which they made a hole and hid themselves until daylight, when Scipio took Noahy back to his owner.

On Sunday next Parson Demby gave notice “Dat Scipio Jones had got salbation in he hyart, an’ wud be babtiz’ Sunday cummin’.”

There was a great difference of opinion among the committee as to the appearance of the witch, and this was their testimony:

Scip’ thought “Hit wuz erboutin ez big ez uh cow, an’ had hohns ez long ez uh fencerail.”

John Poney thought “Hit wuz ’boutin de size ub uh shock ub wheat, wid eyes ’bout de size ub buckets, an’ uh mouf ’bout ez big ez uh shirk’s.”

Uncle Stephen said he “Wuz sho’ de face wuz ’boutin ez big ez uh barrel, an’ melted lead run fum he nose, an’ pusspuration ub fire drapped fum all ober he face, an’ ebbry time de win’ blow his eyes wink an’ his mouf larf.”

A few days after the ghost investigation Little Billy went over to the quarters of Uncle Stephen to hear the news, and found the old man putting his little grandchild to sleep and singing:

Sooky licked de ladle,

An’ de baby rocked de cradle.

Rock——

Billy interrupted him, saying: “Howdy, Uncle Stephen?”

The old man was glad to see him, nervous and startled, too, for he had not gotten over his witch fright.

“Po’ly, Billy, ve’y po’ly; pow’ful mis’ry in meh back an’ legs.”

Billy said, in an innocent sort of way: “I jes’ bought fum Kent County de fines’ kin’ ub coon dog—cross ’tween uh houn’ an’ rat-tan-terrier—an’ I drap in ter arsk ef’n you won’ teck uh hunt wid me in Haylan’ Branch to-night. Tell me hit’s full ub coons, an’ uh hunt mout do yo’ back good.”

Uncle Stephen gave Billy a solemn, stern look and said: “I wan’ nuffin ter do wid coons, ’possums er ’coon dogs. Scip’ Jones an’ John Poney dey bof exerted me. I’s los’ meh tase fuh night hun’in’; an’ when you heah de ’po’t ub de witch committee, you will sell yo’ dog, kase when dat ’po’t gits knowed, da won’ be no use fuh coon dogs, leas’wise ’roun’ heah. I had uh talk wid Caesar Butler yistiddy, an’ he say: ‘He sho’ dat Haylan’ Branch witch tuck an’ stole he ’possum fum de ashes lars’ fall, an’ bin stealin’ he oystus all wintah.’ Now de wexin’ quession is, What we gwine ter do? Hit wud not s’prise me ef’n I move fum de county.”

“Uncle Stephen, what wuz de ’port ub de witch committee?”

“Well, dey met lars’ night over Bennett Tumlinson’s wheelwright shop. Pawson Demby wuz chusen ter teck de cheah. Den we hed uh long composation an’ hit wuz ’cided dat ghos’es may lib in cows’ hohns, but witches don’—leas’wise de breed dat’s in Haylan’ Branch. We also ’cide dat ef’n all de cowhohns in Miles Ribber Neck wuz made inter one hohn, hit wud be too small fuh de witch ub Haylan’ Branch ter ’pose in. Hit wuz also ’cluded dat de sperrit in Haylan’ Branch wuz uh witch, kase hit hab whiskuhs, an’ ghos’es don’ hab whiskuhs. Pawson Demby say he sho’ hit’s de same breed ub witches dat’s spok’ ub in Samuel de Fus’, and dat we mus’ stop coon hun’in’, hintimate Saul, an’ all go ter witch hun’in’ an’ witch killin’. Dat de Bible ’splicitly spressify in de book ub Ex-odus: ‘Thou shal’ not suffah uh witch ter lib.’ Pawson Demby mus’ be mustakin’. Hit kyant be de same breed ub witches Saul kilt, an’ ef’n dey is, dey’s grown monstus since dem days; an’ I bleebe ’sted ub de brudders ub Zion Chuch ’stroyin’ de witches, de witches will ’stroy de brudders. Talk ’bout babtizin’ in de presence ub shirks! I’d rudder sleep wid shirks dan see dat witch ergin. Hits de lars’ time I’s gwine on any committee! Mo’n dat, I’s made up meh min’ ter jine uh chuch dat don’ ’low coon huntin’, an dat chuch is de Presbyters.”

After the war Billy, old and dispirited, drifted to a small town in Maryland. His independence, quaint humor (narrations and mirations) soon attached the townspeople to him, who kept him in tobacco, clothed and made him comfortable. Billy never tired of expatiating upon his old home, haunts, ole Miss and ole Mars. It was his nature to exaggerate, and he told about the fo’-in-hands he drove (he never drove) until it got to be a joke; and they would tease him and say they had heard he only drove mules and steers, which made him furious, and he would brandish his cane at his accusers.

When Mr. Cleveland was first elected President Billy was very much disturbed. He thought all the negroes would be sold into slavery, and his loquaciousness and solicitude suggested the following joke, which was played upon him to the amusement of the township:

At several places in the town, to which Billy’s attention was called, printed notices were tacked up that on a certain day all negroes in Maryland would be sold to the highest bidder. When Billy saw it, he swore lustily, and on the day of sale he was made to stand on a goodsbox, and cried to the highest bidder. It was a very funny sight. Billy said: “Ef’n ole Mars, er Miss Henrietta wuz erlive dey’d kill ebery lars’ one ub you.”

The spectators walked around him, looked in his mouth feigning to tell his age, and praised his noble appearance. Billy looked scornfully at the laboring people, some of whom had been instructed to bid on him, and graciously at the gentry present. A pretended buyer asked if he belonged to the church.

Billy said: “I don’ ’long ter no chuch, an’ I ain’ gwine ter jine, an’ gib up meh fiddle an’ banjo.”

Just then some one looked him over and said: “Splendid, honest face! I will give $5,000 for him.”

Billy said, with great pomposity: “I al’ays knewed uh quality niggah, an’ I’s glad ter be uh slabe, ef’n uh gemman buy me. I tole de niggahs ef’n dey wote de Dimcrat ticket dey’d all be sol’ ergin, but dey sech ornry fools.”

Finally a man said $5,000 was nothing for him; he would give $10,000. Whereupon a carpenter nailing shingles on a roof within earshot of the sale, knowing Billy’s weakness for talking about his ole master’s horses, and thinking to draw him out and please him, asked: “Can Billy drive a carriage?” Whereupon Billy broke up the sale by saying: “What in de h—l you wan’ ter know fuh? You nebba own uh kerridge.”