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Page 36 text:
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OOR AIN FOLK The Home and Heart of Aunt Cindy You. Lijah! called Aunt Cuidy from withui the cabin, ef you doan ' keep out ' n dat vvateh. I is sholy gwine ter war you ter plum frazzle. ' ass ' m. replied Lijah, contmumg to wiggle his small dusky body about m the water, and feeling with his toes for the ground, as he swung by the tips of his fingers from the gallery. But when his mother suddenly appeared in the doorway, with a well-sea- soned bunch of switches in her hand, he crawled, chuckling, up on the wet planks, and stretched himself there like a baby alligator in the warm noon-day sun. Three days before, the levee over on the big swollen river had broken, and the waters from the crevasse were swirling about Aunt Cmdy Washington ' s cabin, and rushing away, yellow and foaming, in an angry current that was cutting a huge channel for itself across the very heart of the country. From the cabin it looked like a vast sea. spreading as far as the eye could reach to the south and west. The first onslaught of the flood had carried away nearly all the cabins and houses scattered about the isolated negro settlement of Win Church; those that remained threat- ened every moment to topple over into the widening stream, on whose surface floated the forlorn majs of wreckage. — shingles, doors, window-shutters, odds and ends of house- hold goods, chicken coops, animals, living and dead, that told its own pitiful story of destruction. The inhabitants had been removed to a place of safety by relief boats. But Aunt Cindy had stoutly refused to abandon her cabin. De onderpinnin ' o ' dish yer cabin, she declared, ain lak de onderpinnin ' o ' dem yander triflin ' no- ' count cabins, caze Sol Washington, my ole man, is put dish yer cabin up wi ' his own hands befo ' he was tuk ' n ter glory, an ' I knows hits gwine ter stan ' ! The queer, ramshackle little structure which Uncle Sol Washington had put up with his own hands. had one room and a front gallery, and in ordinary times it sheltered Aunt Cindy, her four daughters. — Polly. Dicy. Sal. and Viny — and her one eleven year old boy. Lijah. Just now, however, it must be confessed, the cabin was somewhat crowded. A calf, which had drifted against the back door, and had been lifted in and warmed back to life, now trotted like a kitten m and out of the open door- way. A big flop-eared hound dog lay in a corner of the fireplace. A litter of pigs grunted m a corner. I clar ' ter goodness, said Aunt Cmdy. the second morning, as she fished out a coop of half-drowlied chickens, hits edzacktly lak de zark dat ole Noah done builded at de comman ' o ' de Lord! Lijah sunned himself in his wet clothes, now staring dreamily at the sky, now watching Polly, who was rescuing a box. Suddenly he scrambled to his feet, and gazed intently over the yellow sea. The next moment he plunged headlong into the water, where for a second he disappeared, then rose, spluttering and blowing. Polly ran for- sard. You Lije. she gasped, come out ' n dat water dis minute! Does you wanter drown yo ' self? Mammy gwine ter w ' ar you ter er — She stopped abruptly, her mouth wide open and her eyes dilated. Lijah was pushing his way slowly against the incoming waves. He caught a whitish mass from out of the rapid current. He turned with difficulty and labored back, pushing the drift before him. .As he came up. Polly, who had been too terrified to utter a word, seized him and drew him into the cabin. Then she looked down at the jetsam he had towed in, and gave a screech which brought Aunt Cindy, the girls, and the dog flying out. It was indeed a strange little craft which lay alongside the Zark — a tiny cradle, mattress, water-soaked and stained. Lying upon it under her pinned coverlet was a four or five months ' old girl baby, white and delicate as a snow drop. She was clad in a long white night-gown, which was open at 32
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Page 35 text:
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The Cat The 22nd of April, about 1 I :30 P.M. Miss Lue locked up the downstairs as usual and aecended to the second floor. Knovvnig that everj ' one had gone to bed. she decided to do the same. Nicodemus had crept into the kitchen in the afternoon, hoping to find a mouse. As such thmgs are scarce around 82, he was not successful, so lay down behind a box m the pantry and went to sleep. When he awoke everything was quiet. This seemed a good time for an mvestigation of the place. He crept quietly through the kitchen, and up the back stairway, passed Miss Lues door, and turned down the hall. Hearing a strange, snorting noise, when near the first doors, he was frightened and ran back. But he gathered up courage and tried again. Thi; time he stopped to listen and found this to be a chorus of snores, the occupants of these two rooms running in competition. He came to the next door and eavesdropping discovered that these kiddies were not asleep, but discussing the men as usual. Then he came to the foot of the stairs and contemplated whether to go up, or back to the pantry for the rest of the night, when all at once there was a sudden outburst from the nearby door, slightly ajar. He heard the weirdest stories of wild times, then a voice, Oh, girls do go to sleep, what do you think I came to bed for? So the excitement was hu. hed up here, and not wanting to miss anything, Nicodemus decided to go up that other flight of stairs. At the top he spied a light in the front room, and three little girls were having a show. This included make-ups. ballet dancing, style shows, etc. Mr. Cat watched this until he nearly split his sides laughing. On his way out he heard something weird from another room and still craving excitement approached this one. At first he couldn ' t catch all but finally heard — But fools rush— in where angels — fear to tread. There is — no such— thing as love. Next someone says. Shut up, and don ' t keep the neighbors awake. This struck Nicodemus very funny, but he didn ' t laugh this time, only he began to wonder what queer specimens this house contained. .Across the hall he peeoed into the south room and what a feast he saw. Two small children ready for bed, were sitting on the floor, their backs to the door. The blinds were all carefully pulled down and before them, on the floor were two candles, four bottles and any amount of eats. Mr. Cat approaching, quietly pushed ooen that squeaking door. What was that? cried Pink Top. Was it in the Ghost Room? Thinking how selfish they were. Nicodemus made a grab for a piece of chicken. These poor children, frightened into hysterics, rcreamed and jumped upon the bed. Instantly the whole house was aroused. It was the Ghost, I saw it, I saw its eyes, cried one. covering her own eyes. Oh. yes. Oh. ye , I heard it scurry through here a minute ago, came from the second floor back. By that time Miss Lue had arrived. Her astonishment was making her hair stand on end. What does this mean? What are you doing? This brought them back to their senses, but as they ruefully surveyed the eats one girl missed the chicken from her plate, Miss Lue, do ghosts eat? — Ghosts! You silly child, there are no ghosts. But I saw something with horrible looking eyes spring across the room and my chicken is gone. Really! If you are so hungry that vou get up at midnight to eat, I should think you might be willing to share with a famished ghost. However I met Nicodemus in the hall as I came up. and I think I will take all this food down to him and save some bad headaches tomorrow. Nicodemus, by the aid of the broom, was soon on the back porch. He had been compelled to run for his life, but concluded it was worth it all. after the entertainment he enjoyed. 31 N. S. ' 22.
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Page 37 text:
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said she little Its inmates. But it was and Lijah her Dovie, the throat, showing her round dimpled neck. The soft rings of brown hair that curled about her forehead were wet and glistening. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks cold and pale. Get de kettle er hot water. Dicy, ordered Aunt Cindy. Stir yo ' se ' f. gal! Polly, fetch Lijah a swallow o ' pepper sass. Punch up de fiah. Sal. Po li ' l gal chile. Dere am ' t much bref lef m yo ' body, honey. ' Half an hour later the baby, lying on Aunt Cindy ' s lap, opened her blue eyes languidly, and looked at the wondering group gathered around her. Dar now! Aunt Cindy, comfortably, I gwine ter git her somefin ' ter eat, an ' den I be boun given ter be lively. The little creature pursed up her pretty mouth and began to whimper as her eyes went from face to face. But catching sight of Lijah, she smiled, reached out her hand and clasped one of his fingers. From that moment the baby grew and thrived in the water-girt cabin, from Aunt Cindy herself, down to Viny, the youngest child, adored her. to Lijah most of all that she clung with( all the strength of her baby heart never wearied of toting her around the crowded room. They called thinking of the Dove in the Bible. One morning, several months after the flood Aunt Cindy took some eggs to town. At the station of Win Church she saw a light carriage, drawn by two sleek horses. When she saw its owner she said, Dullaw! Ef dat ain ' hi ' Marse Jack Mannin ' ! Howdy. Marse Jack? The young man shook hands with her heartily. And then Aunt Cindy asked, An whar is you lef Miss Nannie? He said. Nannie is in the station. Go and see her. Aunt Cindy. The young woman who was seated m the little waiting room, threw herself, with a sob, into the arms of the faithful old soul who had nursed her when she was a baby. Oh, Mammy I Mammy! she moaned. What ' s de matter, honey? asked Aunt Cindy. The story which Mrs. Manning told through her tears was a sad one. She told her that her little baby girl, sleeping in her crib, had been carried away in the crib and was drowned in the flood. When Aunt Cindy had heard the description of the little baby girl she became very much excited and insisted that Mrs. Manning go with her to her cabin at once. It needed no coaxing to induce Mrs. Manning to go with her old nurse. When Mrs. Manning entered the cabin and saw Dovie, she sank to the floor with a cry of surprise and joy. Doan ' you be skeered, Marse Jack, said Aunt Cindy, she aint gwine ter die. Dat kin er joy doan ' kill. She laid the child in the mother ' s outstretched arms. Why, honey, I might er knowed dat dis baby b ' long ter we-all ' s fambly. Polly ain ' you got no manners? Fetch er chair fer Master Jack! I ain ' shout since de Win Church is tumble inter de flood but, I sholy is gwine to shout now. Glory! And the high triumphant cry of the old negress went echoing away like a trumpet tone on the clear morning air. B. S. ' 22. 33
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