ページの画像
PDF
ePub

But Noah didn't min' 'em,-knowin' what wuz gwine to happen :
An' forty days an' forty nights de rain it kep' a-droppin'.

Now, Noah had done catch'd a lot ob eb'ry sort o' beas'es,
Ob all de shows a-trabbelin, it beat 'em all to pieces!
He had

a Morgan colt, an' sebral head o' Jarsey cattle, An' drew 'em board de ark as soon's he heer'd de thunder rattle.

Den sech anoder fall ob rain! - it come so awful hebby,
De ribber riz immejitly, an' busted troo de lebbee;

De people all wuz drownded out, 'cep' Noah an' de critters,

An' men he'd hired to work de boat, an' one to mix de bitters.

[ocr errors]

De ark she kep' a-sailin', an' a-sailin', an' a-sailin';

De lion got his dander up, an' like to bruk de palin',

De sarpints hiss'd, -de painters yell'd.—tell, what wid all de fussin',
You c'u'dn't hardly heah de mate a-bossin' roun' an' cussin'.

Now, Ham, de only nigger what was runnin' on de packet,
Got lonesome in de barber-shop, an' c'u'dn't stan' de racket;
An' so, for to amuse he-se'f, he steam'd some wood an' bent it,
An' soon he had a banjo made, de fust dat wuz invented.

[ocr errors]

He wet de ledder, stretch'd it on; made bridge, an' screws, an' apron;
An' fitted in a proper neck,— 'twas berry long an' tap'rin';
He tuk some tin, and twisted him a thimble for to ring it;
An' den de mighty question riz, How wuz he gwine to string it?

De possum had as fine a tail as dis dat I's a singin';

De ha'rs so long, an' thick an' strong, - des fit for banjo-stringin',

Dat nigger shaved 'em off as short as wash-day-dinner graces;
An' sorted ob 'em by de size, frum little E's to basses.

He strung her, tuned her, struck a jig, —'twuz “Nebber min' de wedder";

She soun' like forty-lebben bands a-playing' all togedder;

Some went to pattin'; some to dancin'; Noah call'd de figgers; An Ham he sot an' knock'd de tune, de happiest ob niggers!

Now, sence dat time, it's mighty strange, dere's not de slightes' showin'

Ob any ha'r at all upon de possum's tail a-growin';

An' curis, too,—dat nigger's ways! his people nebber los' 'em,For whar you finds de nigger, dar's de banjo an' de 'possum.

[ocr errors]

UNCLE DAN'L'S APPARITION.

CLEMENS AND WARNER.

WHATEVER the lagging, dragging journey from Tennessee to Missouri may have been to the rest of the emigrants, it was a wonder and delight to the children, a world of enchantment; and they believed it to be peopled with the mysterious dwarfs and giants and goblins that figured in the tales the negro slaves were in the habit of telling them nightly by the shuddering light of the kitchen fire.

At the end of nearly a week of travel, the party went into camp near a shabby village which was caving, house by house, into the hungry Mississippi. The river astonished the children beyond measure. Its mile-breadth of water seemed an ocean to them, in the shadowy twilight, and the vague riband of trees on the further shore, the verge of a continent which surely none but them had ever seen before. "Uncle Dan'l," (coloured,) aged 40; his wife, Aunt Jinny," aged 30; "Young Miss" Emily Hawkins, "Young Mars" Washington Hawkins, and Young Mars" Clay, the ne member of the family, ranged themselves on a log, after super, and contemplated the marvellous river and discussed it. The Moon rose and sailed, aloft through a maze of shredded cloud-wreaths; the sombre river just perceptibly brightened under the veiled light; a deep silence pervaded the air, and was emphasized, at intervals, rather than broken, by the hooting of an owl, the baying of a dog, or the muffled cr.sh of a caving bank in the distance.

66

The little company assembled on the log were all children, (at least in simplicity and broad and comprehensive ignorance,) and the remarks they made about the river were in keeping with their character; and so awed were they by the grandeur and the solemnity of the scene before them, and by their belief that the air was filled with invisible spirits, and that the faint zephyrs were caused by their passing wings, that all their talk took to itself a tinge of the supernatural,

and their voices were subdued to a low and reverent tone. Suddenly Uncle Dan'l exclaimed:

"Chil'en, dah's sumfin a-comin'!"

All crowded close together, and every heart beat faster. Uncle Dan'l pointed down the river with his bony finger.

A deep coughing sound troubled the stillness, away toward a wooded cape that jutted into the stream a mile distant. All in an instant a fierce eye of fire shot out from behind the cape, and sent a long, brilliant pathway quivering athwart the dusky water. The coughing grew louder and louder, the glaring eye grew larger and still larger, glared wilder and still wilder. A huge shape developed itself out of the gloom, and from its tall duplicate horns dense volumes of smoke, starred and spangled with sparks, poured out and went tumbling away into the further darkness. Nearer and nearer the thing came, till its long sides began to glow with spots of light which mirrored themselves in the river, and attended the monster like a torchlight procession.

“What is it? O! what is it, Uncle Dan'l?"

With deep solemnity the answer came:

"It's de Almighty! Git down on yo' knees!"

It was not necessary to say it twice. They were all kneeling in a moment. And then, while the mysterious coughing rose stronger and stronger, and the threatening glare reached further and wider, the negro's voice lifted up its supplications:

"O Lord, we's been mighty wicked, an' we knows dat we 'zerve to go to de bad place, but good Lord, deah Lord, we ain't ready yit, we ain't ready, let dese po' chil'en hab one Take de ole niggah if you's

mo' chance, jes' one mo' chance. got to hab somebody. Good Lord, good deah Lord, we don't know whah you's a-gwine to, we don't know who you's got yo' eye on, but we knows by de way you's a-comin', we knows by de way you's a-tiltin' along in yo' charyot o' fiah, dat some po' sinner's a-gwine to ketch it. But, good Lord, dese chil'en don't 'blong heah, dey's f'm Obedstown, whah dey don't know nuffin, an' you knows yo' own sef, dat dey ain't 'sponsible.

An', deah Lord, good Lord, it ain't like yo' mercy, it ain't like yo' pity, it ain't like yo' long-sufferin' lovin' kindness, for to take dis kind o' 'vantage o' sich little chil'en as dese is, when dey's so many grown folks chuck full o' cussedness dat wants roastin' down dah. O Lord, spah de little chil'en, don't tar de little chil'en away f'm dey frens, jes' let 'em off, jes' dis once, and take it out'n de ole niggah. HEAH I IS, LORD, HEAH I IS! De ole niggah's ready, Lord, de ole —" The flaming and churning steamer was right abreast the party, and not twenty steps away. The awful thunder of a mud-valve suddenly burst forth, drowning the prayer, and as suddenly Uncle Dan'l snatched a child under each arm and scoured into the woods with the rest of the pack at his heels. And then, ashamed of himself, he halted in the deep darkness and shouted, (but rather feebly,)

"Heah I is, Lord, heah I is!"

There was a moment of throbbing suspense, and then, to the surprise and comfort of the party, it was plain that the august presence had gone by, for its dreadful noises were receding. Uncle Dan'l headed a cautious reconnoissance in the direction of the log. Sure enough" The Lord" was just turning a point a short distance up the river; and, while they looked, the lights winked out, and the coughing diminished by degrees, and presently ceased altogether.

"H'wsh! Well, now dey's some folks says dey ain't no 'ficiency in prah. Dis chile would like to know whah we'd a ben now if it warn't fo' dat prah? Dat's it. Dat's it!"

“Uncle Dan'l, do you reckon it was the prayer that saved us?" said Clay.

"Does I reckon? Don't I know it! Whah was yo' eyes? Warn't de Lord jes' a-comin' chow chow! CHOW! an' a-goin' on turrible; an' do de Lord carry on dat way 'dout dey's sumfin don't suit him? An' warn't he a-lookin' right at dis gang heah, an' warn't he jes' a-reachin' for 'em? An'd' you spec' he gwine to let 'em off 'dout somebody ast him to do it? No indeedy!"

"Do you reckon he saw us, Uncle Dan'l?"

"De law sakes, chile, didn't I see him a-lookin' at us?"

"Did you feel scared, Uncle Dan'l?"

"No sah! When a man is 'gaged in prah, he ain't 'fraid o' nuffin, - dey can't nuffin tech him."

"Well, what did you run for?”

“Well, I—I— Mars Clay, when a man is under de influence ob de sperit, he dunno what he's 'bout, no sah; dat man dunno what he's 'bout. You mout take an' tah de head off'n dat man, an' he wouldn't scasely fine it out. Dah's de Hebrew chil'en dat went frough de fiah; dey was burnt considable, ob course dey was; but dey didn't know nuffin 'bout it, heal right up agin: if dey'd ben gals dey'd missed dey long haah, maybe, but dey wouldn't felt de burn." "I don't know but what they were girls. I think they were."

"Now, Mars Clay, you knows better'n dat. Sometimes a body can't tell whedder you's a-sayin' what you means or whedder you's a-sayin' what you don't mean, 'case you says 'em bofe de same way."

"But how should I know whether they were boys or girls?"

"Goodness sakes, Mars Clay, don't de good book say? 'Sides, don't it call 'em de He-brew chil'en? If dey was gals wouldn't dey be de she-brew chil'en? Some people dat kin read don't 'pear to take no notice when dey do read." "Well, Uncle Dan'l, I think that My! here comes another one up the river! There can't be two!" "We gone dis time, ain't two, Mars Clay, 'pear eberywhah in a second. smoke do belch up! Dat mean business, honey. He comin' now like he fo'got sumfin. Come 'long, chil'en; time you's gwine to roos'. Go 'long wid you, -ole Uncle Dan'l gwine out in de woods to rastle in prah, - de ole niggah gwine to do what he kin to sabe you agin."

[ocr errors]

we done gone dis time, sho'! Dey dat's de same one. De Lord kin Goodness, how de fiah an' de

He did go to the woods and pray; but he went so far that he doubted, himself, if the Lord" heard him when he went by.

« 前へ次へ »