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Updated: June 17, 2025
"Thank'y, suh, thank'y, Mars' Colonel, an' Miss Laura! An' de Lawd is gwine bless you, suh, you an' my sweet young lady, fuh bein' good to po' folks w'at can't do nuthin' to he'p deyse'ves out er trouble," said Catharine backing out with her apron to her eyes.
Meanw'iles Dan's marster had said dey could git married ef dey wanter, en so Dan en Mahaly had tuk up wid one ernudder, en wuz libbin' in a cabin by deyse'ves, en wuz des wrop' up in one ernudder. "But dis yer cunjuh man's son did n' 'pear ter min' Dan's takin' up wid Mahaly, en he kep' on hangin' 'roun' des de same, 'tel fin'lly one day Mahaly sez ter Dan, sez she:
He 's mos' lackly one er dem bright mulatters, f'om Robeson County some of 'em call deyse'ves Croatan Injins w'at's been conscripted an' sent ter wu'k on de fo'tifications down at Wimbleton er some'er's er nuther, an' done 'scaped, and got mos' killed gittin' erway, an' wuz n' none too well fed befo', an' nigh 'bout starved ter def sence.
"One day Miss Mary Jane, Helen, an' me was playin' an' we seen mens all dressed in blue coats wid brass buttons on dey bosoms ridin' on big fine hosses, drive right up to our po'ch an' say to Aunt Dalia whar she was sweepin': "'Good morning, Madam, no men's about? "When she tol' 'em wa'nt no mens 'bout, day ax fer de keys to de smokehouse an' went out an' hap'ed deyse'ves an' loaded dey wagons.
I'm gwine ter look at dat newspaper dey be'n talkin' 'bout, an' 'less'n my min' changes might'ly, I'm gwine ter keep my mouf shet an' stan' in wid de Angry-Saxon race, ez dey calls deyse'ves nowadays, an' keep on de right side er my bread an' meat. Wat nigger ever give me twenty cents in all my bawn days?"
I 's alluz afeared I mought be imposin' on some human creetur; eve'y time I cuts a mule wid a hick'ry, 'pears ter me mos' lackly I's cuttin' some er my own relations, er somebody e'se w'at can't he'p deyse'ves." "What put such an absurd idea into your head?" I asked. My question was followed by a short silence, during which Julius seemed engaged in a mental struggle.
Fer dey 're comin', sho'. I dremp' las' night dey wuz close ter han', and I hears de w'ite folks talkin' ter deyse'ves 'bout it. An' de time is comin' w'en de good Lawd gwine ter set his people free, an' it ain' gwine ter be long, nuther." Needham's prophecy proved true.
Dey used to take de marster's horses out at night an' ride 'em down. One Nigger, Sam, got dat mad at a mule for grabbin' at cotton he cut his tongue out. Course, Marster whupped him, but when he went to look for 'im 'bout a hour after, he foun' 'im soun' asleep. Said he ought to kill 'im, but he didn'. "When we was sick dey had a doctor for us jus' like dey done for deyse'ves.
"I dunno whar de beaux done hid deyse'ves dese days; hit's a wonner dey ain' des a-busin' dey sides ter git yer. Marse Dan, now, whynt he come a-prancin' roun' dese yer parts?" Mrs. Lightfoot looked at Betty and saw her colour rise. "That will do, Rhody," she cautioned; "you will let the turkeys burn," but as they moved toward the door, Betty herself paused and looked back.
"Well, Mam' Henry, I may 'a' been mistook, but sho' I took hit fu' Scripter. Mebbe de preachah I hyeahd was jes' inlinin'." "Well, wheddah hit's Scripter er not, dey's one t'ing su'tain, I tell you, dem two is singin' deyse'ves togeddah." "Hit's a fac', an' I believe it." "An' it's a mighty good thing, too. Brothah Gidjon is de nicest house dahky dat I ever hyeahd tell on.
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