IN 1876, circumstances, partly accidental and partly sentimental2, led me to revisit Crooked3 Creek4 Church, near the little village of Rockville, in Middle Georgia. I was amazed at the changes which a few brief years had wrought5. The ancient oaks ranged roundabout remained the same, but upon everything else time had laid its hand right heavily. Even the building seemed to have shrunk: the pulpit was less massive and imposing7, the darkness beyond the rafters less mysterious. The preacher had grown grey, and feebleness had taken the place of that physical vigour9 which was the distinguishing feature of his interpretations12 of the larger problems of theology. People I had never seen sat in the places of those I had known so well. There were only traces here and there of the old congregation, whose austere13 simplicity14 had made so deep an impression upon my youthful mind The blooming girls of 1860 had grown into careworn15 matrons, and the young men had developed in their features the strenuous16 uncertainty17 and misery18 of the period of desolation and disaster through which they had passed. Anxiety had so ground itself into their lives that a stranger to the manner might well have been pardoned for giving a sinister19 interpretation10 to these pitiable manifestations20 of hopelessness and unsuccess.
I had known the venerable preacher intimately in the past; but his eyes, wandering vaguely21 over the congregation, and resting curiously22 upon me, betrayed no recognition. Age, which had whitened his hair and enfeebled his voice, seemed also to have given him the privilege of ignoring everything but the grave and the mysteries beyond.
These swift processes of change and decay were calculated to make a profound impression, but my attention was called away from all such reflections. Upon a bench near the pulpit, in the section reserved for the coloured members, sat an old negro man whose face was perfectly23 familiar. I had known him in my boyhood as Mingo, the carriage-driver and body-servant of Judge Junius Wornum. He had changed but little. His head was whiter than when I saw him last, but his attitude was as firm and as erect24, and the evidences of his wonderful physical strength as apparent, as ever. He sat with his right hand to his chin, his strong serious face turned contemplatively toward the rafters. When his eye chanced to meet mine, a smile of recognition lit up his features, his head and body drooped25 forward, and his hand fell away from his face, completing a salutation at once graceful26, picturesque27, and imposing.
I have said that few evidences of change manifested themselves in Mingo; and so it seemed at first, but a closer inspection28 showed one remarkable29 change. I had known him when his chief purpose in life seemed to be to enjoy himself. He was a slave, to be sure, but his condition was no restraint upon his spirits. He was known far and wide as "Laughing Mingo," and upon hundreds of occasions he was the boon30 companion of the young men about Rockville in their wild escapades. Many who read this will remember the "'possum suppers" which it was Mingo's delight to prepare for these young men, and he counted among his friends and patrons many who afterward31 became distinguished32 both in war and in the civil professions. At these gatherings33, Mingo, bustling34 around and serving his guests, would keep the table in a roar with his quaint35 sayings, and his local satires36 in the shape of impromptu37 doggerel38; and he would also repeat snatches of orations39 which he had heard in Washington when Judge Wornum was a member of Congress. But his chief accomplishments40 lay in the wonderful ease and fluency41 with which he imitated the eloquent42 appeals of certain ambitious members of the Kockville bar, and in his travesties43 of the bombastic44 flights of the stump-speakers of that day.
It appeared, however, as he sat in the church, gazing thoughtfully and earnestly at the preacher, that the old-time spirit of fun and humour had been utterly46 washed out of his face. There was no sign of grief, no mark of distress47, but he had the air of settled anxiety belonging to those who are tortured by an overpowering responsibility. Apparently48 here was an interesting study. If the responsibilities of life are problems to those who have been trained to solve them, how much more formidable must they be to this poor negro but lately lifted to his feet! Thus my reflections took note of the pathetic associations and suggestions clustering around this dignified49 representative of an unfortunate race.
Upon this particular occasion church services were to extend into the afternoon, and there was an interval50 of rest after the morning sermon, covering the hour of noon. This interval was devoted51 by both old and young to the discussion of matters seriously practical. The members of the congregation had brought their dinner baskets, and the contents thereof were spread around under the trees in true pastoral style. Those who came unprovided were, in pursuance of an immemorial custom of the section and the occasion, taken in charge by the simple and hearty52 hospitality of the members.
Somehow I was interested in watching Mingo. As he passed from the church with the congregation, and moved slowly along under the trees, he presented quite a contrast to the other negroes who were present. These, with the results of their rural surroundings superadded to the natural shyness of their race, hung upon the outskirts53 of the assembly, as though their presence was merely casual, while Mingo passed along from group to group of his white friends and acquaintances with that familiar and confident air of meritorious54 humility55 and unpretentious dignity which is associated with good-breeding and gentility the world over. When he lifted his hat in salutation, there was no servility in the gesture; when he bent56 his head, and dropped his eyes upon the ground, his dignity was strengthened and fortified57 rather than compromised. Both his manners and his dress retained the flavour of a social system the exceptional features of which were too often by both friend and foe58 made to stand for the system itself. His tall beaver59, with its curled brim, and his blue broadcloth dress-coat, faded and frayed60, with its brass61 buttons, bore unmistakable evidence of their age and origin, but they seemed to be a reasonable and necessary contribution to his individuality.
Passing slowly through the crowd, Mingo made his way to a double-seated buggy shielded from all contingencies62 of sun and rain by an immense umbrella. Prom beneath the seat he drew forth63 a large hamper64, and proceeded to arrange its contents upon a wide bench which stood near.
While this was going on I observed a tall angular woman, accompanied by a bright-looking little girl, making her way toward Mingo's buggy. The woman was plainly, oven shabbily, dressed, so that the gay ribbons and flowers worn by the child were gaudy66 by contrast. The woman pressed forward with decision, her movements betraying a total absence of that undulatory grace characteristic of the gentler sex, while the little girl dancing about her showed not only the grace and beauty of youth, but a certain refinement67 of pose and gesture calculated to attract attention.
Mingo made way for these with ready deference68, and after a little I saw him coming toward me. He came forward, shook hands, and remarked that he had brought me an invitation to dine with Mrs. Feratia Bivins.
"Miss F'raishy 'members you, boss," he said, bowing and smiling, "en she up'n say she be mighty69 glad er yo' comp'ny ef you kin65 put up wid cole vittles an' po' far'; en ef you come," he added on his own account, "we like it mighty well."
II.
ACCEPTING the invitation, I presently found myself dining with Mrs. Bivins, and listening to her remarkable flow of small-talk, while Mingo hovered70 around, the embodiment of active hospitality.
"Mingo 'lowed he'd ast you up," said Mrs. Bivins, "an' I says, says I, 'Don't you be a-pesterin' the gentulmun, when you know thar's plenty er the new-issue quality ready an' a-waitin' to pull an' haul at 'im,' says I. Not that I begrudge71 the vittles—not by no means; I hope I hain't got to that yit. But somehow er 'nother folks what hain't got no great shakes to brag72 'bout6 gener'ly feels sorter skittish73 when strange folks draps in on 'em. Goodness knows I hain't come to that pass wher' I begrudges74 the vittles that folks eats, bekaze anybody betweenst this an' Clinton, Jones County, Georgy, 'll tell you the Sanderses wa'n't the set to stint75 the'r stomachs. I was a Sanders 'fore76 I married, an' when I come 'way frum pa's house hit was thes like turnin' my back on a barbecue. Not by no means was I begrudgin' of the vittles. Says I, 'Mingo,' says I, 'ef the gentulmun is a teetotal stranger, an' nobody else hain't got the common perliteness to ast 'im, shorely you mus' ast 'im,' says I; 'but don't go an' make no great to-do,' says I; 'bekaze the little we got mightent be satisfactual to the gentulmun,' says I. What we got may be little enough, an' it may be too much, but hit's welcome."
It would be impossible to convey an idea of the emphasis which Mrs. Bivins imposed upon her conversation. She talked rapidly, but with a certain deliberation of manner which gave a quaint interest to everything she said. She had thin grey hair, a prominent nose, firm thin lips, and eyes that gave a keen and sparkling individuality to sharp and homely77 features. She had evidently seen sorrow and defied it. There was no suggestion of compromise in manner or expression. Even her hospitality was uncompromising. I endeavoured to murmur78 my thanks to Mrs. Bivins for Mingo's thoughtfulness, but her persistent79 conversation drowned out such poor phrases as I could hastily frame.
"Come 'ere, Pud Hon," continued Mrs. Bivins, calling the child, and trimming the demonstrative terms of "Pudding" and "Honey" to suit all exigencies80 of affection—"come 'ere, Pud Hon, an' tell the gentulmun howdy. Gracious me! don't be so countrified. He ain't a-gwine to bite you. No, sir, you won't fine no begrudgers mixed up with the Sanderses. Hit useter be a common sayin' in Jones, an' cle'r 'cross into Jasper, that pa would 'a bin81 a rich man an' 'a owned niggers if it hadn't but 'a bin bekase he sot his head agin stintin' of his stomach. That's what they useter say—usen't they, Mingo?"
"Dat w'at I year tell, Miss F'raishy—sho'," Mingo assented82, with great heartiness83. But Mrs. Bivins's volubility would hardly wait for this perfunctory indorsement. She talked as she arranged the dishes, and occasionally she would hold a piece of crockery suspended in the air as she emphasised her words. She dropped into a mortuary strain—"Poor pa! I don't never have nuthin' extry an' I don't never see a dish er fried chicken but what pa pops in my mind. A better man hain't never draw'd the breath of life—that they hain't. An' he was thes as gayly as a kitten. When we gals85'd have comp'ny to dinner, pore pa he'd cut his eye at me, an' up an' say, says he, 'Gals, this 'ere turkey's mighty nice, yit I'm reely afeared you put too much inguns in the stuffin. Maybe the young men don't like 'em as good as you all does;' an' then pore pa'd drap his knife an' fork, an' laugh tell the tears come in his eyes. Sister Prue she useter run off an' have a cry, but I was one er the kind what wa'n't easy sot back.
"I'd 'a bin mighty glad if Pud yer had er took airter pa's famerly, but frum the tip eend er her toe nails to the toppermust ha'r of her head she's a Wornum. Hit ain't on'y thes a streak86 yer an' a stripe thar—hit's the whole bolt. I reckon maybe you know'd ole Jedge June Wornum; well, Jedge June he was Pud's gran'pa, an' Deely Wornum was her ma. Maybe you might 'a seed Deely when she was a school-gal84."
Cordelia Wornum! No doubt my astonishment87 made itself apparent, for Mrs. Bivins bridled88 up promptly89, and there was a clearly perceptible note of defiance90 in her tone as she proceeded.
"Yes, sir-ree! An' make no mistake! Deely Wornum married my son, an' Henry Clay Bivina made 'er a good husbun', if I do have to give it out myse'f. Yes, 'ndeed! An' yit if you'd 'a heern the rippit them Wornums kicked up, you'd 'a thought the pore chile'd done took'n run off 'long of a whole passel er high pirates frum somewheres er 'nother. In about that time the ole Jedge he got sorter fibbled up, some say in his feet, an' some say in his head; but his wife, that Em'ly Wornum, she taken on awful. I never seen her a-gwine on myse'f; not that they was any hidin' out 'mongst the Bivinses er the Sanderses—bless you, no! bekaze here's what wa'n't afeared er all the Wornums in the continental91 State er Georgy, not if they'd 'a mustered92 out under the lead er ole Nick hisse'f, which I have my doubta if he wa'n't somewheres aroun'. I never seen 'er, but I heern tell er how she was a-cuttin' up. You mayn't think it, but that 'oman taken it on herse'f to call up all the niggers on the place an' give 'em her forbiddance to go an' see the'r young mistiss."
"Yit I lay dey tuck 'n sneak93 'roun' en come anyhow, ain't dey, Miss F'raishy?" inquired Mingo, rubbing his hands together and smiling blandly94.
"That they did—that they did!" was Mrs. Bivins's emphatic95 response. "Niggers is niggers, but them Wornum niggers was a cut er two 'bove the common run. I'll say that, an' I'll say it on the witness stan'. Freedom might a turned the'r heads when it come to t'other folks, but hit didn't never turn the'r heads 'bout the'r young mistiss. An' if Mingo here hain't done his juty 'cordin' to his lights, then I dunner what juty is. I'll say that open an' above-board, high an' low."
The curious air of condescension96 which Mrs. Bivins assumed as she said this, the tone of apology which she employed in paying this tribute to Mingo and the Wornum negroes, formed a remarkable study. Evidently she desired me distinctly to understand that in applauding these worthy97 coloured people she was in no wise compromising her own dignity.
Thus Mrs. Bivins rattled98 away, pausing only long enough now and then to deplore99 my lack of appetite. Meanwhile Mingo officiated around the improvised100 board with gentle affability; and the little girl, bearing strong traces of her lineage in her features—a resemblance which was confirmed by a pretty little petulance101 of temper—made it convenient now and again to convey a number of tea cakes into Mingo's hat, which happened to be sitting near, the conveyance102 taking place in spite of laughable pantomimic protests on the part of the old man, ranging from appealing nods and grimaces103 to indignant frowns and gestures.
"When Deely died," Mrs. Bivins went on, waving a towel over a tempting104 jar of preserves, "they wa'n't nobody but what was afeared to break it to Emily Wornum, an' the pore chile'd done been buried too long to talk about before her ma heern tell of it, an' then she drapped like a clap er thunder had hit 'er. Airter so long a time, Mingo thar he taken it 'pun hisse'f to tell 'er, an' she flopped105 right down in 'er tracks, an' Mingo he holp 'er into the house, an', bless your life, when he come to he'p 'er out'n it, she was a changed 'oman. 'Twa'n't long 'fore she taken a notion to come to my house, an' one mornin' when I was a-washin' up dishes, I heern some un holler at the gate, an' thar sot Mingo peerched up on the Wornum carry-all, an' of all livin' flesh, who should be in thar but ole Emily Wornum!
"Hit's a sin to say it," continued Mrs. Bivins, smiling a dubious106 little smile that was not without its serious suggestions, "but I tightened107 up my apern strings108, an' flung my glance aroun' tell hit drapped on the battlin'-stick, bekaze I flared109 up the minnit I seen 'er, an' I says to myse'f, says I: 'If hit's a fracas110 youer huntin', my lady, I lay you won't hafter put on your specs to fine it.' An' then I says to Pud, says I—
"'Pud Hon, go in the shed-room thar, chile, an' if you hear anybody a-hollerin' an' a-squallin', thes shet your eyeleds an' grit111 your teeth, bekaze hit'll be your pore ole granny a-tryin' to git even with some er your kin.'
"An' then I taken a cheer an' sot down by the winder. D'reckly in come Emily Wornum, an' I wish I may die if I'd 'a know'd 'er if I'd saw 'er anywheres else on the face er the yeth. She had this 'ere kinder dazzled look what wimmen has airter they bin baptized in the water. I helt my head high, but I kep' my eye on the battlin'-stick, an' if she'd 'a made fight, I'll be boun' they'd 'a bin some ole sco'es settled then an' thar if ole sco'es ken8 be settled by a frailin'. But, bless your heart, they wa'n't never no cammer 'oman than what Emily Wornum was; an' if you'd 'a know'd 'er, an' Mingo wa'n't here to b'ar me out, I wish I may die if I wouldn't be afeared to tell you how ca'm an' supjued that 'oman was, which in her young days she was a tarrifier. She up an' says, says she—
"'Is Mizzers Bivins in?'
"'Yessum,' says I, 'she is that-away. An more 'n that, nobody don't hafter come on this hill an' holler more 'n twicet 'thout gittin'some kinder answer back. Yessum! An' what's more, Mizzers Bivins is come to that time er life when she's mighty proud to git calls from the big- bugs112. If I had as much perliteness, ma'am, as I is cheers, I'd ast you to set down,' says I.
"She stood thar, she did, thes as cool as a cowcumber; but d'reckly she ups an' says, says she—
"'Might I see my little gran'chile?' says she.
"'Oho, ma'am!' says I; 'things is come to a mighty purty pass when quality folks has to go frum house to house a-huntin' up pore white trash, an' a-astin' airter the'r kin. Tooby shore! tooby shore! Yessum, a mighty purty pass,' says I."
I cannot hope to give even a faint intimation of the remarkable dramatic fervour and earnestness of this recital113, nor shall I attempt to describe the rude eloquence114 of attitude and expression; but they seemed to represent the real or fancied wrongs of a class, and to spring from the pent-up rage of a century.
"I wa'n't lookin' fer no compermise, nuther," Mrs. Bivins continued. "I fully45 spected 'er to flar' up an' fly at me; but 'stedder that, she kep' a- stan'in' thar lookin' thes like folks does when theyer runnin' over sump'n in the'r min'. Then her eye lit on some 'er the pictur's what Deely had hung up on the side er the house, an' in pertic'lar one what some 'er the Woruum niggers had fetched 'er, whar a great big dog was a-watehin' by a little bit er baby. When she seen that, bless your soul, she thes sunk right down on the floor, an' clincht 'er han's, an' brung a gasp115 what looked like it might er bin the last, an' d'reckly she ast, in a whisper, says she—
"'Was this my dear daughter's room?'
"Maybe you think," said Mrs. Bivins, regarding me coldly and critically, and pressing her thin lips more firmly together, if that could be—"maybe you think I oughter wrung116 my han's, an' pitied that 'oman kneelin' thar in that room whar all my trouble was born an' bred. Some folks would 'a flopped down by 'er, an' I won't deny but what hit come over me; but the nex' minnit hit flashed acrost me as quick an' hot as powder how she'd 'a bin a-houndin' airter me an' my son, an' a-treatin' us like as we'd 'a bin the offscourin's er creation, an' how she cast off her own daughter, which Deely was as good a gal as ever draw'd the breath er life—when all this come over me, hit seem like to me that I couldn't keep my paws off'n 'er. I hope the Lord'll forgive me—that I do—but if hit hadn't but 'a bin for my raisin117', I'd 'a jumped at Emily Wornum an' 'a spit in 'er face an' 'a clawed 'er eyes out'n 'er. An' yit, with ole Nick a-tuggin' at me, I was a Christun 'nuff to thank the Lord that they was a tender place in that pore miserbul creetur's soul-case.
"When I seen her a-kneelin' thar, with 'er year-rings a-danglin' an' 'er fine feathers a-tossin' an' a-trimblin', leetle more an' my thoughts would 'a sot me afire. I riz an' I stood over her, an' I says, says I—
"'Emily Wornum, whar you er huntin' the dead you oughter hunted the livin'. What's betwix' you an' your Maker118 I can't tell,' says I, 'but if you git down on your face an' lick the dirt what Deely Bivins walked on, still you won't be humble119 enough for to go whar she's gone, nor good enough nuther. She died right yer while you was a-traipsin' an' a- trollopin' roun' frum pos' to pillar a-upholdin' your quality idees. These arms helt 'er,' says I, 'an' ef hit hadn't but 'a bin for her, Emily Wornum,' says I, 'I'd 'a strangled the life out'n you time your shadder darkened my door. An' what's more,' says I, 'ef youer come to bother airter Pud, the make the trail of it. Thes so much as lay the weight er your little finger on 'er,' says I, 'an' I'll grab you by the goozle an' t'ar your haslet out,' says I."
O mystery of humanity! It was merely Mrs. Feratia Bivins who had been speaking, but the voice was the voice of Tragedy. Its eyes shone; its fangs120 glistened121 and gleamed; its hands clutched the air; its tone was husky with suppressed fury; its rage would have stormed the barriers of the grave. In another moment Mrs. Bivins was brushing the crumbs122 from her lap, and exchanging salutations with her neighbours and acquaintances; and a little later, leading her grandchild by the hand, she was making her way back to the church, where the congregation had begun to gather.
III.
FOR my own part, I preferred to remain under the trees, and I soon found that this was the preference of Mingo. The old man had finished his dinner, and sat at the foot of a gigantic oak, gazing dreamily at the fleecy clouds that sailed across the sky. His hands were clasped above his head, and his attitude was one of reflection. The hymn123 with which the afternoon services were opened came through the woods with a distinctness that was not without a remote and curious suggestion of pathos124. As it died away, Mingo raised himself slightly, and said, in a tone that was intended to be explanatory, if not apologetic—
"Miss F'raishy, ef she ain't one sight, den1 I ain't never seed none. I s'pec' it seem sorter funny ter you, boss, but dat w'ite 'oman done had lots er trouble; she done had bunnunce er trouble—she sholy is! Look mighty cu'us dat some folks can't git useter yuther folks w'at got Fergiuny ways, but dat's Miss F'raishy up en down. Dat's her, sho! Ole Miss en ole Marster dey had Ferginny ways, en Miss F'raishy she wouldn't 'a staid in a ten-acre fiel' wid urn—dat she wouldn't. Folks wa't got Ferginny ways, Miss F'raishy she call um big-bugs, en she git hostile w'en she year der name call. Hit's de same way wid niggers. Miss F'raishy she hate de common run er niggers like dey wuz pizen. Yit I ain't makin' no complaints, kaze she mighty good ter me. I goes en I suns myse'f in Miss F'raishy back peazzer all day Sundays, w'en dey ain't no meetin's gwine on, en all endurin' er de week I hangs 'roun' en ploughs a little yer, en hoes a little dar, en scratches a little yander, en looks arter ole Miss' gran'chile. But des let 'n'er nigger so much ez stick der chin 'cross de yard palin's, en, bless yo' soul, you'll year Miss F'raishy blaze out like de woods done cotch afire."
Mingo paused here to chuckle125 over the discomfiture126 and alarm of the imaginary negro who had had the temerity127 to stick his supposititious chin over the fence. Then he went on—
"I dunner whar Miss F'raishy git do notion 'bout dat chile a-faverin' er de Wornums, kaze she de ve'y spit en image er ole Miss, en ole Miss wuz a full-blood Bushrod. De Bushrods is de fambly what I cum fum myse'f, kaze w'en ole Miss marry Marster, my mammy fell ter her, en w'en I got big 'nuff, dey tuck me in de house fer ter wait on de table en do er'n's, en dar I bin twel freedom come out. She 'uz mighty high- strung, ole Miss wuz, yit I sees folks dese days put on mo' a'rs dan w'at ole Miss ever is. I ain't 'sputin' but w'at she hilt 'er head high, en I year my mammy say dat all the Bushrods in Ferginny done zactly dat a way.
"High-strung yer, headstrong yander," continued Mingo, closing one eye, and gazing at the sun with a confidential128 air. "Ef it hadn't er bin fer de high-strungity-head-strongityness er de Bushrod blood, Miss Deely wouldn't 'a never runn'd off wid Clay Bivins in de roun' worril, dough129 he 'uz des one er de nicest w'ite mens w'at you 'mos' ever laid yo' eyes on. Soon ez she done dat, wud went 'roun' fum de big house dat de nigger w'at call Miss Deely name on dat plantation130 would be clap on de cote-house block, en ole Miss she shot 'erse'f up, she did, en arter dat mighty few folks got a glimpse un 'er, 'ceppin' hit 'uz some er de kin, en bless yo' soul, dey hatter look mighty prim131 w'en dey come whar she wuz. Ole Marster he ain't say nothin', but he tuck a fresh grip on de jimmy-john, en it got so dat, go whar you would, dey want no mo' lonesomer place on de face er de yeth dan dat Wornum plantation, en hit look like ruination done sot in. En den, on top er dat, yer come de war, en Clay Bivins he went off en got kilt, en den freedom come out, en des 'bout dat time Miss Deely she tuck 'n' die.
"I 'clar' ter gracious," exclaimed Mingo, closing his eyes and frowning heavily, "w'en I looks back over my shoulder at dem times, hit seem like it mighty funny dat any un us pull thoo. Some did en some didn't, en dem w'at did, dey look like deyer mighty fergitful. W'en de smash come, ole Marster he call us niggers up, he did, en 'low dat we 'uz all free. Some er de boys 'low dat dey wuz a-gwineter see ef dey wuz free sho 'nuff, en wid dat dey put out fer town, en some say ef dey wuz free dey wuz free ter stay. Some talk one way en some talk 'n'er. I let you know I kep' my mouf shot, yit my min' 'uz brimful er trouble.
"Bimeby soon one mornin' I make a break. I wrop up my little han'ful er duds in a hankcher, en I tie de hankcher on my walkin'-cane, en I put out arter de army. I walk en I walk, en 'bout nine dat night I come ter Ingram Ferry. De flat wuz on t'er side er de river, en de man w'at run it look like he gone off some'rs. I holler en I whoop132, en I whoop en I holler, but ef dey wuz any man 'roun', he wuz hidin' out fum me. Arter so long I got tired er whoopin' en hollerin', en I went ter de nighest house en borrer'd a chunk133, en built me a fier by de side er de road, en I set dar en nod twel I git sleepy, en den I pull my blanket 'cross my head en quile up—en w'en I do dat, hit's good-bye, Mingo!
"Boss," said Mingo, after a little pause, "you don't b'leeve in no ghos'es en sperrits, does you?"
An apparently irrelevant134 inquiry135, suddenly put, is sometimes confusing, and I fear I did not succeed in convincing Mingo of my unbelief.
"Some does en some don't," he continued, "but ez fer me, you kin des put me sorter 'twix' en between. Dey mout be ghos'es en den ag'in dey moutent. Ole nigger like me ain't got no bizness takin' sides, en dat w'at make I say w'at I does. I ain't mo'n kivver my head wid dat blanket en shot my eyes, 'fo' I year somebody a-callin' un me. Fus' hit soun' way off yander.
"'Mingo!—oh, Mingo!' en den hit got nigher—'Mingo !—oh, Mingo!'
"I ain't 'spon' ter dat, but I lay dar, I did, en I say ter myse'f—
"'Bless gracious! de man on t'er side done come, but how in de name er goodness is he know Mingo?'
"I lay dar, en I study en I lissen, en I lissen en I study; en den I doze136 off like, en fus' news I know yer come de call—
"'Mingo!—oh, Mingo!'
"Hit soun' nigher, yit hit seem like it come fum a mighty fur ways, en den wiles137 I wundin' en studyin', yer she come mo' plainer dan befo'—
"'OH, MINGO!'
"I snatch de blanket offn my head, en sot up en lissen, I did, en den I make answer—
"'Who dat callin' Mingo way out yer?'
"I lissen en I lissen, but nobody ain't callin'. I year de water sneakin' 'long under de bank, en I year de win' squeezin' en shufflin' 'long thoo de trees, en I year de squinch-owl shiver'n' like he cole, but I ain't year no callin'. Dis make me feel sorter jubous like, but I lay down en wrop up my head.
"I ain't bin dar long 'fo' bimeby yer come de call, en it soun' right at me. Hit rise en it fall, en de wud wuz—
"'Mingo!—oh, Mingo! Whar my little baby? My little baby, Mingo! Whar my little, baby?'
"En den, boss, hit seem like I year sump'n like a 'oman cryin' in de dark like 'er heart gwineter break. You kin laff ef you mineter, but I ain't dast ter take dat blanket offn my head, kaze I know my young mistiss done come back, en mo'n dat, I know sho 'uz stannin" dar right over me.
"Tooby sho I wuz skeer'd, but I wa'n't so skeer'd dat I dunner w'at she mean, en I des broke inter11 de bigges' kinder boo-hoo, en I say, sez I—
"'Make yo' peace, Miss Deely! make yo' peace, honey! kaze I gwine right back ter dat baby ef de Lord spar' me. I gwine back, Miss Deely! I gwine back!'
"Bless yo' soul, boss, right den en dar I know'd w'at bin a- pester'n' un me, kaze des time I make up my min' fer ter come back ter dat baby, hit look like I see my way mo' cle'r dan w'at it bin befo'. Arter dat I lay dar, I did, en I lissen en I lissen, but I ain't year no mo' callin' en no mo' cryin'; en bimeby I tuck de blanket fum off'n my head, en lo en beholes, de stars done fade out, en day done come, en dey wa'n't no fuss nowhars. De squinch-owl done hush138, en de win' done gone, en it look like de water done stop sneakin' en crawlin' und' de bank.
"I riz up, I did, en shuck de stift'nes out'n my bones, en I look 'way 'cross de river ter de top er de hill whar de road lead. I look en I say, sez I—
"'Maybe you leads ter freedom, but, bless God! I gwine back.'
"Des 'bout dat time I see de fe'ymun come down ter de flat en onloose de chain, en make ez he wuz comin' 'cross arter me. Wid dat I raise up my hat en tip 'im a bow, en dat's de las' I seed un 'im.
"I come back, I did," continued Mingo, reflectively, "en yer I is, en yer I bin; en I ain't come none too soon, en I ain't stay none too close, n'er, kaze I dunuer w'at mout er happin. Miss F'raishy been mighty good, too, sho. She ain't useter niggers like some w'ite folks, en she can't git 'long wid um, but she puts up wid me mighty well. I tuck holt er de little piece er groun' w'at she had, en by de he'p er de Lord we bin gittin on better dan lots er folks. It bin nip en tuck, but ole tuck come out ahead, en it done got so now dat Miss P'raishy kin put by some er de cotton money fer ter give de little gal a chance w'en she git bigger. 'Twon't b'ar tellin' how smart dat chile is. She got Miss Deely peanner, en, little ez she is, she kin pick mos' all de chunes w'at her mammy useter pick. She sets at de peanner by de hour, en whar she larnt it I be bless ef I kin tell you—dat I can't!"
The little girl had grown tired of the services in the church, and ran out just as the old man had put my horse to the buggy. Mingo knew a shorter road to Rockville than that by which I had come, and taking the child by the hand, he walked on ahead to show me the way. In a little while we came to the brow of a hill, and here I bade the old man and his charge good-bye, and the two stood watching me as I drove away. Presently a cloud of dust rose between us, and I saw them no more, but I brought away a very pretty picture in my mind—Mingo with his hat raised in farewell, the sunshine falling gently upon his grey hairs, and the little girl clinging to his hand and daintily throwing kisses after me.
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1
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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10
interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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inter
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| v.埋葬 | |
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interpretations
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| n.解释( interpretation的名词复数 )；表演；演绎；理解 | |
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13
austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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15
careworn
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| adj.疲倦的，饱经忧患的 | |
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16
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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17
uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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18
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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manifestations
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| n.表示，显示（manifestation的复数形式） | |
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21
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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satires
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| 讽刺，讥讽( satire的名词复数 )； 讽刺作品 | |
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impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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doggerel
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| n.拙劣的诗，打油诗 | |
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orations
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| n.（正式仪式中的）演说，演讲( oration的名词复数 ) | |
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accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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41
fluency
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| n.流畅，雄辩，善辩 | |
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42
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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43
travesties
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| n.拙劣的模仿作品，荒谬的模仿，歪曲( travesty的名词复数 ) | |
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44
bombastic
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| adj.夸夸其谈的，言过其实的 | |
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45
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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46
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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47
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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48
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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49
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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51
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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52
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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53
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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54
meritorious
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| adj.值得赞赏的 | |
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55
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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56
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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57
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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58
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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59
beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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60
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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62
contingencies
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| n.偶然发生的事故，意外事故( contingency的名词复数 )；以备万一 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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hamper
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| vt.妨碍，束缚，限制；n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
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65
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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66
gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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67
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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68
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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69
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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70
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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71
begrudge
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| vt.吝啬，羡慕 | |
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72
brag
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| v./n.吹牛，自夸；adj.第一流的 | |
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73
skittish
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| adj.易激动的，轻佻的 | |
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74
begrudges
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| 嫉妒( begrudge的第三人称单数 )； 勉强做； 不乐意地付出； 吝惜 | |
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75
stint
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| v.节省，限制，停止；n.舍不得化，节约，限制；连续不断的一段时间从事某件事 | |
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76
fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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80
exigencies
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| n.急切需要 | |
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81
bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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82
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
heartiness
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| 诚实，热心 | |
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84
gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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85
gals
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| abbr.gallons （复数）加仑（液量单位）n.女孩，少女( gal的名词复数 ) | |
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86
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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87
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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88
bridled
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| 给…套龙头( bridle的过去式和过去分词 )； 控制； 昂首表示轻蔑（或怨忿等）； 动怒，生气 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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91
continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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92
mustered
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| v.集合，召集，集结（尤指部队）( muster的过去式和过去分词 )；（自他人处）搜集某事物；聚集；激发 | |
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93
sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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94
blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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95
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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96
condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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97
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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deplore
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| vt.哀叹，对...深感遗憾 | |
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100
improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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101
petulance
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| n.发脾气，生气，易怒，暴躁，性急 | |
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102
conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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103
grimaces
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| n.（表蔑视、厌恶等）面部扭曲，鬼脸( grimace的名词复数 )v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的第三人称单数 ) | |
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104
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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105
flopped
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| v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的过去式和过去分词 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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106
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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107
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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108
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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109
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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110
fracas
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| n.打架；吵闹 | |
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111
grit
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| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
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112
bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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113
recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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114
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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115
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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116
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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117
raisin
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| n.葡萄干 | |
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118
maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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119
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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120
fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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121
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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123
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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124
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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125
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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126
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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127
temerity
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| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
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128
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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129
dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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130
plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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131
prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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132
whoop
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| n.大叫，呐喊，喘息声；v.叫喊，喘息 | |
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133
chunk
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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134
irrelevant
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| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
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135
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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136
doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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137
wiles
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| n.（旨在欺骗或吸引人的）诡计，花招；欺骗，欺诈( wile的名词复数 ) | |
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138
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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