Sketches New and Old

  A TRUE STORY

  REPEATED WORD FOR WORD AS I HEARD IT--[Written about 1876]

  It was summer-time, and twilight. We were sitting on the porch of thefarmhouse, on the summit of the hill, and "Aunt Rachel" was sittingrespectfully below our level, on the steps--for she was our Servant, andcolored. She was of mighty frame and stature; she was sixty years old,but her eye was undimmed and her strength unabated. She was a cheerful,hearty soul, and it was no more trouble for her to laugh than it is for abird to sing. She was under fire now, as usual when the day was done.That is to say, she was being chaffed without mercy, and was enjoying it.She would let off peal after peal of laughter, and then sit with her face inher hands and shake with throes of enjoyment which she could no longerget breath enough to express. At such a moment as this a thoughtoccurred to me, and I said:

  "Aunt Rachel, how is it that you've lived sixty years and never had anytrouble?"

  She stopped quaking. She paused, and there was moment of silence. Sheturned her face over her shoulder toward me, and said, without even asmile in her voice:

  "Misto C-----, is you in 'arnest?"

  It surprised me a good deal; and it sobered my manner and my speech, too.I said:

  "Why, I thought--that is, I meant--why, you can't have had any trouble.I've never heard you sigh, and never seen your eye when there wasn't alaugh in it."

  She faced fairly around now, and was full earnestness.

  "Has I had any trouble? Misto C-----, I's gwyne to tell you, den I leaveit to you. I was bawn down 'mongst de slaves; I knows all 'bout slavery,'case I ben one of 'em my own se'f. Well sah, my ole man--dat's myhusban'--he was lovin' an' kind to me, jist as kind as you is to yo' ownwife. An' we had chil'en--seven chil'en--an' we loved dem chil'en jist desame as you loves yo' chil'en. Dey was black, but de Lord can't makechil'en so black but what dey mother loves 'em an' wouldn't give 'em up,no, not for anything dat's in dis whole world.

  "Well, sah, I was raised in ole Fo'ginny, but my mother she was raised inMaryland; an' my SOULS! she was turrible when she'd git started! My LAN!but she'd make de fur fly! When she'd git into dem tantrums, she alwayshad one word dat she said. She'd straighten herse'f up an' put her fistsin her hips an' say, 'I want you to understan' dat I wa'n't bawn in themash to be fool' by trash! I's one o' de ole Blue Hen's Chickens, I is!''Ca'se you see, dat's what folks dat's bawn in Maryland calls deyselves,an' dey's proud of it. Well, dat was her word. I don't ever forgit it,beca'se she said it so much, an' beca'se she said it one day when mylittle Henry tore his wris' awful, and most busted 'is head, right up atde top of his forehead, an' de niggers didn't fly aroun' fas' enough to'tend to him. An' when dey talk' back at her, she up an' she says,'Look-a-heah!' she says, 'I want you niggers to understan' dat I wa'n'tbawn in de mash be fool' by trash! I's one o' de ole Blue Hen's chickens,I is!' an' den she clar' dat kitchen an' bandage' up de chile herse'f.So I says dat word, too, when I's riled.

  "Well, bymeby my ole mistis say she's broke, an' she got to sell all deniggers on de place. An' when I heah dat dey gwyne to sell us all off atoction in Richmon', oh, de good gracious! I know what dat mean!"

  Aunt Rachel had gradually risen, while she warmed to her subject, and nowshe towered above us, black against the stars.

  "Dey put chains on us an' put us on a stan' as high as dis po'ch--twentyfoot high--an' all de people stood aroun', crowds an' crowds. An' dey'dcome up dah an' look at us all roun', an' squeeze our arm, an' make usgit up an' walk, an' den say, Dis one too ole,' or 'Dis one lame,' or'Dis one don't 'mount to much.' An' dey sole my ole man, an' took himaway, an' dey begin to sell my chil'en an' take dem away, an' I begin tocry; an' de man say, 'Shet up yo' damn blubberin',' an' hit me on de moufwid his han'. An' when de las' one was gone but my little Henry, I grab'HIM clost up to my breas' so, an' I ris up an' says, 'You sha'nt take himaway,' I says; 'I'll kill de man dat tetches him!' I says. But my littleHenry whisper an' say 'I gwyne to run away, an' den I work an' buy yo'freedom' Oh, bless de chile, he always so good! But dey got him--dey gothim, de men did; but I took and tear de clo'es mos' off of 'em an' beat'em over de head wid my chain; an' DEY give it to ME too, but I didn'tmine dat.

  "Well, dah was my ole man gone, an' all my chil'en, all my seven chil'en--an' six of 'em I hain't set eyes on ag'in to dis day, an' dat'stwenty-two year ago las' Easter. De man dat bought me b'long' inNewbern, an' he took me dah. Well, bymeby de years roll on an' de wawcome. My marster he was a Confedrit colonel, an' I was his family'scook. So when de Unions took dat town, dey all run away an' lef' me allby myse'f wid de other niggers in dat mons'us big house. So de big Unionofficers move in dah, an' dey ask me would I cook for DeM. 'Lord blessyou,' says I, 'dat what I's FOR.'

  "Dey wa'n't no small-fry officers, mine you, dey was de biggest dey IS;an' de way dey made dem sojers mosey roun'! De Gen'l he tole me to bossdat kitchen; an' he say, 'If anybody come meddlin' wid you, you jist make'em walk chalk; don't you be afeared,' he say; 'you's 'mong frens now.'

  "Well, I thinks to myse'f, if my little Henry ever got a chance to runaway, he'd make to de Norf, o' course. So one day I comes in dah whar debig officers was, in de parlor, an' I drops a kurtchy, so, an' I up an'tole 'em 'bout my Henry, dey a-listenin' to my troubles jist de same asif I was white folks; an' I says, 'What I come for is beca'se if he gotaway and got up Norf whar you gemmen comes from, you might 'a' seen him,maybe, an' could tell me so as I could fine him ag'in; he was verylittle, an' he had a sk-yar on his lef' wris' an' at de top of hisforehead.' Den dey look mournful, an' de Gen'l says, 'How long sence youlos' him?' an' I say, 'Thirteen year.' Den de Gen'l say, 'He wouldn't belittle no mo' now--he's a man!'

  "I never thought o' dat befo'! He was only dat little feller to ME yit.I never thought 'bout him growin' up an' bein' big. But I see it den.None o' de gemmen had run acrost him, so dey couldn't do nothin' for me.But all dat time, do' I didn't know it, my Henry WAS run off to de Norf,years an' years, an' he was a barber, too, an' worked for hisse'f. An'bymeby, when de waw come he ups an' he says: 'I's done barberin',' hesays, 'I's gwyne to fine my ole mammy, less'n she's dead.' So he soleout an' went to whar dey was recruitin', an' hired hisse'f out to decolonel for his servant; an' den he went all froo de battles everywhah,huntin' for his ole mammy; yes, indeedy, he'd hire to fust one officeran' den another, tell he'd ransacked de whole Souf; but you see I didn'tknow NUFFIN 'bout dis. How was I gwyne to know it?

  "Well, one night we had a big sojer ball; de sojers dah at Newbern wasalways havin' balls an' carryin' on. Dey had 'em in my kitchen, heaps o'times, 'ca'se it was so big. Mine you, I was DOWN on sich doin's;beca'se my place was wid de officers, an' it rasp me to have dem commonsojers cavortin' roun' in my kitchen like dat. But I alway' stood aroun'an kep' things straight, I did; an' sometimes dey'd git my dander up, an'den I'd make 'em clar dat kitchen, mine I TELL you!

  "Well, one night--it was a Friday night--dey comes a whole platoon f'm aNIGGER ridgment da was on guard at de house--de house was head quarters,you know-an' den I was jist A-BILIN'! Mad? I was jist A-BOOMIN'! Iswelled aroun', an swelled aroun'; I jist was a-itchin' for 'em to dosomefin for to start me. AN' dey was a-waltzin' an a dancin'! MY! but deywas havin' a time! an I jist a-swellin' an' a-swellin' up! Pooty soon,'longcomes sich a spruce young nigger a-sailin' down de room wid ayaller wench roun' de wais'; an' roun an' roun' an roun' dey went, enoughto make a body drunk to look at 'em; an' when dey got abreas' o' me, deywent to kin' o' balancin' aroun' fust on one leg an' den on t'other, an'smilin' at my big red turban, an' makin' fun, an' I ups an' says 'GITalong wid you!--rubbage!' De young man's face kin' o' changed, all of asudden, for 'bout a second, but den he went to smilin' ag'in, same as hewas befo'. Well, 'bout dis time, in comes some niggers dat played musicand b'long' to de ban', an' dey NEVER could git along widout puttin' onairs. 'An de very fust air dey put on dat night, I lit into em! Deylaughed, an' dat made me wuss. De res' o' de niggers got to laughin',an' den my soul alive but I was hot! My eye was
jist a-blazin'! I jiststraightened myself up so--jist as I is now, plum to de ceilin', mos'--an' I digs my fists into my hips, an' I says, 'Look-a-heah!' I says, 'Iwant you niggers to understan' dat I wa'n't bawn in de mash to be fool'by trash! I's one o' de ole Blue hen's Chickens, I is!'--an' den I seedat young man stan' a-starin' an' stiff, lookin' kin' o' up at de ceilin'like he fo'got somefin, an' couldn't 'member it no mo'. Well, I jistmarch' on dem niggers--so, lookin' like a gen'l--an' dey jist cave' awaybefo' me an' out at de do'. An' as dis young man a-goin' out, I heah himsay to another nigger, 'Jim,' he says, 'you go 'long an' tell de cap'n Ibe on han' 'bout eight o'clock in de mawnin'; dey's somefin on my mine,'he says; 'I don't sleep no mo' dis night. You go 'long,' he says, 'an'leave me by my own se'f.'

  "Dis was 'bout one o'clock in de mawnin'. Well, 'bout seven, I was upan' on han', gittin' de officers' breakfast. I was a-stoopin' down by destove---jist so, same as if yo' foot was de stove--an' I'd opened de stovedo' wid my right han'--so, pushin' it back, jist as I pushes yo' foot--an' I'd jist got de pan o' hot biscuits in my han' an' was 'bout toraise up, when I see a black face come aroun' under mine, an' de eyesa-lookin' up into mine, jist as I's a-lookin' up clost under yo' facenow; an' I jist stopped RIGHT dah, an' never budged! jist gazed an' gazedso; an' de pan begin to tremble, an' all of a sudden I knowed! De pandrop' on de flo' an' I grab his lef' han' an' shove back his sleeve--jistso, as I's doin' to you--an' den I goes for his forehead an' push de hairback so, an' 'Boy!' I says, 'if you an't my Henry, what is you doin' widdis welt on yo' wris' an' dat sk-yar on yo' forehead? De Lord God obheaven be praise', I got my own ag'in!'

  "Oh no' Misto C-----, I hain't had no trouble. An' no JOY!"