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"What's dat, Brer Bob?" asked Daddy Jake, and as soon as Uncle Bob had yelled at him Dumps's query and his answer to it, the old man said: "Yer wrong, Brer Bob; I 'members well de fus' Fourf uv July; hit wuz er man, honey. Marse Fofer July wuz er man, an' de day wuz name atter him.
"I dunno wat he wuz writin' erbout; but den he wuz er man, caze he lived in my recommembrunce, an' I done seed 'im myse'f." That settled the whole matter, though Diddie was not entirely satisfied; but, as the wagon drove up to the creek bank just then, she was too much interested in the barbecue to care very much for "Marse Fofer July."
I nuber seed 'im but I hyeard he wuz dar, do, an' I knows he wuz dar, caze I sho'ly hyeard 'em clappin' uv dey han's; an', 'cordin' ter de way I 'members bout'n it, dis is his birfday, wat de folks keeps plum till yet caze dey ain't no men nowerdays like Marse Fofer July. He wuz er gre't man, an' he had sense, too; an' den, 'sides dat, he wuz some er de fus' famblys in dem days.
He wuz er pow'ful fightin' man; but den who it wuz he fit I mos' furgot, hit's ben so long ergo; but I 'members, do, I wuz er right smart slip uv er boy, an' I went wid my ole marster, yer pa's gran'pa, to er big dinner wat dey had on de Jeems Riber, in ole Furginny; an' dat day, sar, Marse Fofer July wuz dar; an' he made er big speech ter de white folks, caze I hyeard 'em clappin' uv dey han's.
And now the wagon stopped at the back gate, and the little girls and Mammy and the little darkies got out, and Mammy made the children say good-night to Daddy Jake and Uncle Rob, and they all went into the house very tired and very sleepy, and very dirty with their celebration of "Marse Fofer July's burfday."
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