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Updated: June 10, 2025
Now free to join comfortably in the talk, the man said: "They say he is the most terrible thing in the world. Young Johnnie Bernard that drives the grocery wagon saw him up at Alek Williams's shanty, and he says he couldn't eat anything for two days." "Chee!" said Reifsnyder. "Well, what makes him so terrible?" asked another.
"Dat is so," said the old man, "an' I will nebber agin' complain at de ways ob an Over-Rulin' Providence." I often think of Col. Godfrey and his remark, when he said that what best conduces to the happiness of mankind is right. Uncle Alek, knowing that his mule was at home with his head well in the crib, and he in the Swamp fighting bears and bees, was perfectly happy.
As Uncle Alek and his mule will appear again, I will leave them for the present and relate an interesting conversation with Mr. Richard Hosier, who now lives in Suffolk, and who is as well acquainted with the Dismal Swamp as any one now living. He is perfectly familiar with every part of it, and is, no doubt, correct in many of his statements.
Uncle "Alek" was a superanuated old colored man, belonging to the Reverend Jacob Keeling, Rector of the Episcopal Churches in Nansemond county, Virginia. He was quite old, and retained his memory to a remarkable degree. He was called the "Bee Hunter" of the Dismal Swamp, and, if I am not mistaken, had a bag of bees in his hand when Porte first met him.
No other account was ever given that ever came to our knowledge, but it will make no difference as everybody knew that Uncle Alek had a mule. But as we have stated before, looking over the fourteenth volume of Col.
"You may be as certain that it will reach him as if you gave it to him yourself." "And promise me that you will compel him to whom the letter is addressed to accept the money." "I will not leave his house till he has given me a voucher in writing for it, and whenever you come back again to me here you will find it in my possession." "God be with you then, honest Mussulman!" "Salem alek!"
He would follow bees for a long distance, cutting his way through the reeds for miles in a straight line, until he came to the tree in which was the hollow. Then he would take out the bees, put them into a bag and bring them out. In going to the Lake you could see numberless paths cut by Uncle Alek for that purpose.
After a silence only broken by the swift and musical humming of the wheels on the smooth road, Trescott spoke. "Henry," he said, "I've got you a home here with old Alek Williams. You will have everything you want to eat and a good place to sleep, and I hope you will get along there all right. I will pay all your expenses, and come to see you as often as I can.
"Tain't like as if I didn't 'preciate what the docteh done, but but well, yeh see, jedge," he added, gaining a new impetus, "it's it's hard wuk. This ol' man nev' did wuk so hard. Lode, no." "Don't talk such nonsense, Alek," spoke the judge, sharply.
How long the company worked him before he became the property of Uncle Alek, I do not know, but am satisfied that it was several years, and that his wind was injured by overloading.
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