Part 2

Joe, runt as he was, had two sources of pride--the aristocratic lineage of his “owners,” for he had belonged to the Heywards, and the achievement, on his own behalf, of the paternity of twins. Poor, patient Philippa, being only the mother, and a person of no family to speak of, having been the slave of a Charleston baker--whose fortunes rose during the war, though his Confederate yeast didn’t--Philippa, of the bourgeoisie, was not taken into account. “Dem two twin duh my’own,” and “Me nyuse to blonx to Mass Clinch,” were the Andante and Allegro of Joe’s prideful song. When some lusty young wench, during the customary “chaffing” of the plantation dinner hour, would ridicule his small size, Joe would swell with importance, grin like a ’possum, and overwhelm her with the retort: “Little axe cut down big tree! You see dem two twin, enty? Dem duh _my’own_.” But the “two twins,” poor little dusky wights, were in evidence in the neighborhood and could be estimated at their true value and Joe’s paternal prowess appraised accordingly, but “Mass Clinch” lived away off “een Walterburruh” and, later, as governor, in Columbia, and his name, mouthed unctuously by his former slave, carried with it a weird, mystical importance, a portentous something that held his auditors with staring eyes and dropping jaws till Joe reached his climax, when the tension relaxed and they returned to earth.

Once started, Joe’s imagination fed upon his words as a dog upon his own fleas. One day when Philippa reprobated his want of industry, Joe, other negroes being present, began to brag: “Wunnuh haffuh wu’k ’cause wunnuh blan blonx to po’ buckruh. Yo’ maussuh _’self_ haffuh wu’k! Enty I shum een town one time duh stan’ een ’e bake sto’ duh mek bread, en’ ’e kibbuh wid flour ’tell ’e baid stan’ sukkuh deseyuh cedar hedge duh wintuhtime w’en w’ite fros’ dey ’puntop’um?”

“Enty yo’ maussuh wu’k, Joe?”

“_Who?_ _My Maussuh?_ _Mass Clinch?_ ’Ooman, you mus’ be fool! Enty wunnuh know him duh quality? You ebbuh yeddy ’bout _quality_ wu’k? Wuffuh him haffuh wu’k? No, suh! Him hab him ob’shay, Mistuh Jokok, fuh wu’k. _My_ maussuh tek ’e pledjuh. ’E ride hawss, ’e eat ricebu’d en’ summuh duck en’ t’ing’. Him hab t’irteen plantesshun ’puntop Cumbee Ribbuh. Him plant seb’n t’ous’n’ acre’ rice.”

“_Seb’n t’ous’n’ acre’!_”

“Yaas, enty uh tell wunnuh ’e plant nine t’ous’n’ acre’ rice? Wunnuh t’ink me duh lie, enty? Uh swaytogawd, w’en uh bin Cumbee one time uh count fo’ t’ous’n’ head uh nigguh’ duh hoe rice een de baa’nyaa’d fiel’. Nigguh’ stan’ een Mass Clinch’ fiel’ sukkuh crow’ duh mustuh! En’ him hab seb’n hund’ud mule’!”

“De mule’ wu’k ’pun Cumbee?” asked an iconoclast.

“Co’se de mule’ wu’k, en’ de nigguh’ wu’k, en’ Mistuh Jokok wu’k. Eb’rybody wu’k ’scusin’ my maussuh. Dem mule’ hab long tail’ dull summuhtime fuh switch fly, but w’en wintuhtime come en’ dem ’leb’n hund’ud mule’ tail’ roach, de pyo’ hair wuh shabe off’um mek one pile stan’ big mo’nuh rice rick!”

“Hukkuh yo’ maussuh plant all dat rice en’ t’ing’ ef ’e yent wu’k?”

“Enty I tell wunnuh him lib een Walterburruh? Duh summuhtime ’e does dribe duh plantesshun now en’ den fuh see how him crap stan’. Him dribe two hawss’, en’ de buckle on ’e haa’ness shine lukkuh gol’. One nigguh duh seddown behine ’e buggy wid alltwo ’e han’ fol’ befor’um lukkuh hog tie. Mass Clinch hab on one kid glub ’pun ’e han’ wuh come to ’e elbow. W’en ’e git Cumbee, ’e light out ’e buggy. T’ree nigguh’ run up fuh hol’ ’e hawss’ head. Mistuh Jokok mek’um uh low bow. Mass Clinch iz uh berry mannussubble juntlemun, alldo’ him _iz_ quality, en’ him ’spon’ to de bow. Den ’e biggin fuh walk. Him hab shishuh rich walk! Den ’e cock ’e hat one side ’e head. You nebbuh see nobody kin cock ’e hat stylish lukkuh Mass Clinch. Den ’e onbutt’n ’e weskit. ’E pit ’e lef’ han’ een ’e britchiz pocket, en’ swing ’e walkin’ stick een ’e right han’, en’ biggin fuh quizzit him ob’shay. By dis time ’e git ’puntop de baa’nyaa’d hill en’ look obuh ’e fiel’.

“‘Jokok’,” ’e say, “‘dat de stretch flow you got on my rice, enty?’”

“‘No, suh, dat de haa’bis’ flow.’”

“‘De debble’!” ’e say. “‘’E mus’ be mos’ time fuh ricebu’d!’”

“‘Yaas, suh. We gwine hab some fuh dinnuh’.”

“‘Wuh else you got fuh eat?’” Maussuh quizzit’um.

“‘We got one cootuh soup mek out’uh tarrypin’ wuh bin een one pen duh fatten ’pun gritch en’ t’ing,’ en’ one trout fish, en’ summuh duck’.”

“‘You hab enny mint?’”

“‘Yaas, suh, we hab ’nuf.’”

“‘Berry well, mek we a few julip’,” ’e say. “‘You got enny mo’ ’pawtun’ bidness dat ’quire my ’tenshun?’”

“‘Yaas, suh; snake hole en’ crawfish en’ t’ing’ spile one uh we bank, en’ de trunk blow out, en’ uh hab uh berry bad break, en’ Cumbee ribbuh comin’ een de fiel’. You wantuh shum, suh?’”

“‘No, I t’engk you’,” ’e say. “‘Leh de ribbuh tek ’e co’se. Leh we eat’.”

“W’en ’e gitt’ru ’e bittle, ’e hab ’e fo’ hawss’ hitch up, en’ Mistuh Jokok pit two-t’ree bag uh cootuh en’ ricebu’d en’ summuh duck een him cyaaridge, en’ ’e gone _spang_ Walterburruh, same lukkuh bu’d fly! Da’ duh _my_ maussuh!”

By the time Joe concluded his story the noon hour was over, and the awed negroes rose silently to resume their work. One old mauma, turning to Joe as she knocked the ashes out of her clay pipe and carefully stuck it in the knotty wool behind her ear, said, “Joe, dat duh Gawd you binnuh talk ’bout, enty?”

“No, enty I tell wunnuh duh Mass Clinch Heywu’d! Him duh my maussuh, me duh him nigguh. Me ain’ haffuh wu’k, him ain’ haffuh wu’k. W’en wunnuh look ’puntop’uh she, wunnuh look ’puntop’uh me. Me en’ him alltwo stan’ same fashi’n.”

“I t’aw’t,” said the old woman, scornfully, “I t’aw’t ’e mus’ be de blessed Gawd you bin gib shishuh high praise, but I always yeddy suh Him duh de ainjul’ maussuh, en’ I yeddy suh de ainjul’ w’ite en’ shiny lukkuh staar een de sky, but _you_, nigguh! _YOU black_ ez uh _buzzut_!”

“MY MAUSSUH”

How beneficent must have been the institution of slavery under kindly masters which could cause Joe Fields, black, yellow-eyed, knock-kneed, slew-footed, longtime husband of Philippa, sometime father of twins, to boast, 53 years after the war, of the prowess and attainments of his former master, Duncan Clinch Heyward, sometime governor of South Carolina, now collector of internal revenue and sitting at the receipt of customs in the tall Palmetto building at Columbia, with dominion over war tax, surtax and every other impost internally levied by a benevolent government upon its loyal people. Although, perhaps, an infant in arms when Joe first looked freedom in the face, this “master” was exalted in the mind of his former slave to almost Godlike proportions. “Joe’ maussuh duh him Jedus,” conservatively remarked Philippa.

The negroes about Pon Pon had been considerably exercised over the lengthening of the daylight hours by pushing forward the hands of the clock. Always suspicious of a Caucasian in the woodpile, it was generally regarded as a device for increasing the hours of negro labor. At a recent gathering of the idle black at Adams Run station, the opinion was expressed that the President, although a “Dimmycrack,” must be “a smaa’t man” to have lengthened the days on the darkeys and taken over the railroads.

New York, in the minds of the coast negroes, is the _ultima Thule_--at once the farthest North, and the very core and center of Yankeedom, where, in awful majesty, the President of the United States is supposed to sit like Zeus upon Mt. Olympus, or “my maussuh” in Columbia.

“Yaas, man,” said Joe, “de Prezzydent smaa’t man, fuh true, but ’e yent smaa’t lukkuh maussuh, ’cause my maussuh haffuh gone New Yawk fuh tell de Prezzydent wuh fuh do. Same lukkuh maussuh tell Mistuh Jokok, him ob’shay ’puntop Cumbee, hummuch rice en’ t’ing’ fuh plant, same fashi’n him tell de Prezzydent wuh fuh do, en’ de Prezzydent smaa’t ’nuf fuh do’um.

“Todduh day uh hab uh hebby disapp’int. Uh yeddy suh uh big buckruh wedd’n’ bin fuh hab een Adam’ Run billage, en’ uh yeddy suh my maussuh fuh come spang f’um Cuhlumbia to de wedd’n’. Uh gone en’ pit on me shoe’ en’ da’ new britchiz wuh uh buy yeah ’fo’ las’, en’ uh pit on uh old weskit wuh uh bin hab, so ’e kin mek me fuh look lukkuh maussuh, en’ uh tek me two foot en’ walk, ’cause da’ las’ oxin wuh uh buy done dead onduhneet’ de mawgidge da’ buckruh mek me fuh pit ’puntop’um, en’ uh yent hab nutt’n’ fuh ride, en’ uh gone slam Adam’ Run billage to de wedd’n’, so uh kin see maussuh, en’ uh stan’ outside de ’Piskubble chu’ch en uh fast’n’ alltwo me yeye ’pun de do’ fuh see w’en de buckruh’ gone een en’ w’en dem come out, en’ ’nuf buggy en’ cyaaridge en’ t’ing’ dribe up to de do’, en’ some dem torruh t’ing wuh buckruh hab now--uh cyan’ call ’e name, but ’e hab fo’ w’eel en’ ’e run lukkuh bu’d fly, en’ ’e smell lukkuh kyarrysene--en’ uh see de buckruh git out en’ gone een de chu’ch en’ de preechuh pit on ’e new shroud, ’cause ’e done buy anodduh one attuh Estelle t’ief de fus’ one ’e hab. Bimeby, eb’rybody come out de do’, en’ uh look ’tell uh pop-eye,’ but uh nebbuh see no maussuh; en’ den uh fin’ out suh maussuh ent hab uh chance fuh come to de wedd’n’ cause him haffuh gone New Yawk fuh tell de Prezzydent wuh fuh do! Yaas, suh, da’ duh my maussuh! Same way ’e mek Mistuh Jokok en’ dem nigguh’ en’ t’ing’ fuh stan’ ’roun’ ’puntop’uh Cumbee ribbuh, uh yeddy suh same fashi’n him fuh do een Cuhlumbia en’ New Yawk. Uh yeddy suh my maussuh fuh lib een Cuhlumbia een one high house. ’E high mo’nuh loblolly pine tree. De house hab seb’n hund’ud room’, but dem buckruh’ wuh bin Cuhlumbia tell me de house ent hab no step fuh climb. W’en maussuh ready fuh go to de top uh ’e house, ’e gone een one leetle room, en’ ’e shet de do’ en ’e shet ’e yeye. Fus’ t’ing you know, ’e gone _spang_ to de top uh ’e house. Wen ’e op’n ’e yeye de do’ op’n, en’ ’e walk een ’e office en’ ’e hab ’nuf man en’ nyung lady een ’e office. ’E seddown befo’ ’e table. ’E table big lukkuh winnuh-house flatfawm. ’E pit uh seegyaa’ een ’e mout’. ’E cross ’e foot. ’E call one dem nyung lady. ‘You got any match?’ maussuh ax’um.

“‘Yaas, suh,’ ’e say.”

“‘Please gimme uh matches,’ maussuh say, berry puhlite, ‘en’ light’um fuh me.’ De nyung lady g’em de match, but him say suh maussuh hab mo’ ’speriunce fuh light match’ den w’at him hab. Maussuh say, ‘berry well,’ en’ him ’cratch’ de match ’pun ’e britchiz. ’E ketch fire. ’E light ’e seegyaa’. ’E blow smoke! ’E study! Bimeby ’e reach obuh ’e table. ’E tetch one leetle sump’n’nurruh lukkuh rattlesnake’ butt’n. De t’ing hab lightnin’ een’um, but ’e nebbuh t’unduh. W’en maussuh tetch’um, de felluh go ‘_ping_,’ same lukkuh oonuh t’row stick ’puntop tallygraf wire. Bimeby, fo’ man’ run een de room. ‘Hummuch money oonuh tek f’um de buckruh teday?’ maussuh ax’um. ‘You tek all dem got?’”

“‘Yaas, suh,’ dem say. ‘Eb’n so we tek dem fowl off de roos’!’”

“‘Berry well,’ maussuh say. ‘Ef you tek all dem got, uh haffuh study ’pun uh plan fuh git mo’, en’ ’e tell de fo’ man’ fuh gone. W’en dem gone, maussuh study. ’E pit ’e head one side sukkuh bluejay. ’E blow smoke, en’ ’e study. Maussuh _too_ schemy! Bimeby, ’e say to ’eself: ‘Wuh me en’ de Prezzydent gwine do? Us done ketch all de money wuh de buckruh got, en’ us yent lef’um nutt’n’ ’cep’ de railroad. Nigguh’ ent got nutt’n’ but dem han’ en’ dem foot’. Nigguh’ ent fuh hab no money. Nigguh’ fuh w’uk. Leh we see,’ ’e say. ‘Fus’ t’ing, me en’ de Prezzydent haffuh wu’k! Alltwo uh we duh juntlemun, en’ juntlemun ent fuh wu’k.’ Maussuh pit on ’e hat. ’E gone deepo’ een Cuhlumbia. ’E ride de westyblue strain, en’ ’e nebbuh git off ’tell ’e git spang New Yawk! ’E gone to de Prezzydent’ house. De Prezzydent mek’um uh bow. ’E ax’um, ‘How you lef’ yo’ fambly en’ yo’ crap?’ Maussuh treat’um berry mannussubble. ’E tell’um ’e fambly well, but ’e crap ent stan’ so berry good, ’cause nigguh’ seem lukkuh dem ent lub fuh wu’k ’fo’ day clean een de mawnin’, en’ dem dat good-fuhnutt’n’ dem wan’ knock-off soon ez daa’k come. ‘Dem eegnunt tuh dat,’ de Prezzydent tell’um. ‘Ent you hab moonlight night’ ’puntop Cumbee ribbuh?’ Maussuh tell’um yaas, him hab moonlight, fuh true, but seem lukkuh moonlight night’ duh summuhtime nigguh’ fuhrebbuh duh shout en’ beat stick. Maussuh tell’um ef him kin mek uh law fuh pit anodduh hour een eb’ry day, him kin git mo’ wu’k out de nigguh’. ‘Berry well,’ de Prezzydent tell’um. En’ ’e mek law fuh sattify maussuh, same lukkuh maussuh tell’um.

“Den maussuh cross ’e foot, en’ ’e study some mo’. ’E git schemy ’gen! Maussuh tell’um t’engky fuh de law wuh ’e mek, but ’e tell’um one t’ing wuh bodduhr’um duh de railroad wuh run f’um W’ite Hall fuh gone town. ’E tell’um eb’ry Sattyday W’ite Hall deepo’ black wid nigguh’ fuh gone town fuh t’row’way dem money. Maussuh tell’um de ticket en’ de ’scusshun too cheap, en’ ef de Prezzydent gi’ _him_ de railroad, him will chaa’ge mo’ money fuh de ticket, en’ den de nigguh’ cyan’ trabble so fas’. De Prezzydent tell’um, yaas, ’e plan berry good, but him hab uh sonny-law wuh hab uh berry good ecknowledge fuh git money out’uh buckruh’, en’ ef him kin git’um out’uh buckruh’, him kin git’um out’uh nigguh’ alltwo, so ’e say ’e gwine tek de railroad f’um de buckruh’ en’ g’em to ’e sonny-law, en’ maussuh tell’um berry well, him ’low’um fuh do dat, en’ den maussuh come home en’ write uh ansuh to Mistuh Jokok fuh tell’um nigguh’ fuh wu’k one mo’ hour eb’ry day Gawd sen’, en’ Mistuh Jokok pass de wu’d; en’, please Gawd, de Prezzydent’ sonny-law mek nigguh’ fuh pay mo’ fuh ride de railroad, en eb’rybody say suh de Prezzydent shishuh smaa’t man fuh mek dem law, but, oonuh yeddy me! duh _my maussuh_ mek de Prezzydent fuh mek law! Him schemy fuh t’ink all dem t’ing so him en’ de Prezzydent ent haffuh wu’k! _My_ maussuh ent full wu’k. No, _suh_!”

AN ANTEMORTEM DEMISE

Under whatever star Philippa had been born, she had known only ill luck since her acquisition of a husband in Joe Fields, the slew-footed former slave of former Governor Heyward. Joe’s pride in his former master was too great to permit him to walk, and the mortgaged horse or mule which he usually owned seldom lived very long on the light rations and scant attention it received. Its demise would soon be followed by another animal purchase, another mortgage, and another death. Joe occasionally worked when it suited him, but Philippa toiled unceasingly, and, although she seldom lived at home, she was very proud of the little establishment which her labor maintained. Always distrustful of Joe, she yet gave him the custody of, and dominion over, the few material things she possessed, representing in her character the contradictions not infrequently met with among those of her sex in higher circles.

Once upon a time, Philippa aspired to animal husbandry. Tired of buying bacon for Joe at the Cross Roads store, she applied the savings of several months of hard labor to the purchase of a young sow, and, perhaps in compliment to Joe, she bought a Berkshire, the blackest pig she could find. During the months of anticipation, while she worked for the money with which to make the purchase, her mind was full of the little black pigs that some time would be running about her yard around the cabin in the woodland, furnishing meat in prospect, and immediate companionship for Joe and their taciturn black daughter, Christopher Columbus, who kept the home fires burning with whatever lightwood knots she could pick up in the pineland, while the wife and mother worked for “de buckruh” several miles away.

“Joe en’ Cuhlumbus sho’ gwine hab uh good cump’ny w’en uh buy da’ hog en’ sen’ um home,” she thought. “Ef uh kin raise ten pig’ dis’yeah, maybe nex’ yeah uh kin raise two-t’ree hund’ud, en’ dem kin git ’nuf fuh eat een de swamp en’ de pinelan’ bidout buy’um no bittle.”

So her fancy pictured her humble premises teeming with little pigs, first squirming in their beds among the straw, then grunting and running about the place, while Joe and Columbus, squatting on the door step of the cabin, communed with them in spirit and watched them grow. Later, the husky shoats would forage the pinelands and swamps for mast and acorns, and root about in the muddy branches for slugs and crayfish, then, grown to fat porkers, they would be slaughtered, salted and smoked, and hams, shoulders, and flitches would hang in festoons from the cabin rafters. So they successively passed through the seven ages of swine. At last the sow that was to transmute Philippa’s dreams into realities was bought and paid for, and a message dispatched to Joe to come and take her home. In due time he arrived with ox and cart and, admonished by Philippa to meet the responsibility placed upon him, he drove away, the guardian of her hopes.

But Joe was not a forward-looking man. His eyes, lacking speculation, were filled with the insistent materialism of the moment. A present pig was worth a hundred in prospect. His eyeballs popped and his lips leaked as he viewed Opportunity that grunted so tantalizingly at his door, and the gnawings of “Guamba” (the meat hunger of the savage African tribes) played Lady Macbeth to his halting thoughts of murder and turned them into resolution.

“Yaas, ma’am, uh glad fuh git uh chance fuh wu’k out ’gen, ’cause Joe’ shishuh po’ puhwiduh. ’E nebbuh hab no bittle een de house fuh eat. ’E lub fuh eat, but ’e say suh ’cause him maussuh duh quality, suh him ent fuh nyam no dry bittle. Cawn hom’ny ent wut’ fuh Joe ’scusin’ ’e got hog meat ’long’um fuh greese ’e mout’, en’ da’ time we’n uh binnuh wu’k Pon Pon uh lavuh’ haa’d fuh two munt’ fuh buy uh sow so uh kin raise hog meat fuh keep f’um fuhrebbuh duh run duh sto’ fuh bodduh wid dem Jew’ en’ t’ing’, en’ w’en uh done pay fuh de sow, uh sen’ one metsidge fuh tell Joe fuh come fuh fetch’um home. Yuh come Joe een ’e oxin cyaa’t! ’E _dat_ swonguh, ’e mos’ mek somebody wuh ent know’um t’ink suh _himself_ wu’k fuh buy de hog. Joe tie all fo’ de sow’ foot, ’e pit’um een ’e cyaa’t, en’ ’e gone! Attuh uh week done gone, uh sen’ wu’d fuh tell Joe fuh come fuh see me fuh tell me how de hog git ’long. Bimeby Joe come, ’e tell me de hog hab uh berry good he’lt’. Uh t’engkful fuh yeddy dat, ’cause uh study ’puntop da’ hog tummuch. Anodduh week done gone, uh sen’ fuh Joe ’gen. ’E come. Uh ax’um how de hog’ he’lt’. ’E say ’e he’lt’ ent so berry good, ’e say seem lukkuh de hog kind’uh po’ly. Uh baig’um fuh ent tek ’e yeye off de hog, en’ ’e mek me uh prommus suh ’e gwine watch’um same lukkuh de sow duh ’e own chile. Anodduh week gone. Joe come ’gen. ’E fetch uh berry sad news f’um de hog, ’cause ’e say suh de hog duh leddown, en’ him berry ’f’aid suh ’e dey at de p’int uh de’t’. Wen him tell me dat, uh seddown en’ uh cry, but w’en uh look ’puntop’um uh see suh Joe hab uh berry sattify’ face, en’ ’e jaw look hebby ’tell ’e stan’ lukkuh mufflejaw fowl, but stillyet uh nebbuh ’spishun nutt’n’, en’ uh ax Joe wuffuh mek ’e jaw fat. ’E tell me ’e hab uh teet’ache, en’ dat w’ymekso ’e jaw swell. Joe gone. Nex’ week ’e come ’gen. ’E jowl hebby ez uh buckruh’ barruh Chris’mus time, en’ ’e face look berry sattify. Uh ax’um how de hog? ’E say de hog dead ’tell buzzut done eat’um. Wen uh yeddy dat wu’d, me h’aa’t hebby ’tell ’e ready fuh drap out me t’roat ’pun de du’t. Uh look ’pun Joe ’gen. Uh study ’pun how ’e jaw fat. Uh biggin fuh ’spishun. Uh ax’um ef ’e still hab uh teet’ache een ’e jaw. ’E tell me yaas, ’e teet’ache hot’um ’tell ’e cyan’ nyam ’e cawn hom’ny. Uh ax’um ef ’e teet’ hot’um to dat, hukkuh him mout’ kin grin lukkuh possum mout’ duh wintuhtime w’en ’e dey een possimmun tree? ’E say suh ’e teet’ache hot’um ’tell ’e mek’um fuh grin. W’en ’e tell me dat, uh know him duh lie, en’ uh know berry well weh de hog gone, ’cause him hab shishuh selfish face uh know suh nutt’n’ gwine mek’um grin ’cep’n’ ’e belly tight. Dat, en’ brag ’bout ’e maussuh, duh de only two t’ing fuh sweet’n ’e face fuh mek laugh come een ’e mout’! Uh tell’um, berry well, uh fret ’bout de hog ’tell uh haffuh gone home en’ look ’puntop de po’ creetuh’ bone. ’E tell me suh buzzut done scattuh ’e bone. Uh tell’um, nemmine, uh gwine fin’um ef uh haffuh hunt spang tuh Caw Caw Swamp! Joe stick out ’e mout’ ’tell ’e oagly ez uh catfish, but uh yent mine’um, en’ uh climb’ een de oxin cyaa’t en’ mek’um fuh dribe tuh de house. Uh know berry well suh uh kin mek Cuhlumbus fuh tell me de straight ’bout de hog, ’cause uh train’um fuh watch ’e Pa same ez beebu’d watch beehibe. W’en uh git home uh holluh fuh Cuhlumbus, but ’e yent mek no ansuh en’ uh know ’e mus’be gone deepo. Uh look full de key een de knot hole een one de house’ log weh ’e does lef’um w’en ’e gone out, but befo’ uh gone een de house uh tell Joe fuh show me weh de hog done dead, so uh kin look ’pun ’e bone. Joe look shameface’ ez uh suck-aig dog w’en oonuh ketch’um een uh hen nes,’ but ’e nebbuh crack ’e teet’, en’ ’e gone tuh de aige uh de swamp en’ ’e tell me suh dey de hog dead, en’ de buzzut mus’be flew ’way ’long ’e bone, ’cause none ain’ lef’. Uh tell’um ’e buzzut strong fuh true, but de nigguh lie so easy, uh haffuh suck me teet’ at’um. Uh gone dull house, uh onlock de do’ en’ uh gone een. De fiah done out een de chimbly, but een de cawnuh uh de chimbly uh see de big spiduh duh set, kibbuh’ up wid ashish en’ dead coal’. Uh ax Joe wuh ’e got fuh eat. ’E say ’e dunno wuh Cuhlumbus cook’ befo’ ’e gone out. ’E say ’e ’spec’ Cuhlumbus him roas’ tettuh, eeduhso bile’ hom’ny een de spiduh. Uh tek off de kibbuh. Please me Jedus, uh see de hog’ head dey een de spiduh _done cook_, en’ uh know ’e duh my’own, ’cause ’e hab de w’ite people’ maa’k wuh uh buy’um f’um een alltwo ’e yez! W’en uh look ’puntop de sow head, en’ ’membuh all de t’ing uh bin agguhnize ’bout fuh git da’ hog, uh hab uh berry hebby sperrit en’ water full’ alltwo me yeye. Uh ax Joe weh da’ hog meat come f’um? ’E say him ent know nutt’n’ ’t’all ’bout’um, ’e say suh somebody mus’be gi’ Cuhlumbus de meat. ’E say suh him binnuh nyam de pyo’ cawn hom’ny ’tell him hab uh dry drought een ’e t’roat. Uh tell’um, ‘Joe, you sho’ iz uh fait’ful liah fuh tell lie. Yo’ jaw swell wid de pyo’ fat you git f’um eat my hog, en’ da’ berry sow gwine ride you duh night time. ’E fuh haant you long ez you lib.’ Cuhlumbus come. Uh ax’um hukkuh de sow git ’e de’t’. ’E say suh ebbuh sence de hog come home, ’e Pa binnuh hankuh at’um fuh eat. ’E say suh eb’ry day ’e Pa seddown on de do’ step duh watch de hog duh root ’bout de yaa’d, en’ eb’ry time de hog grunt, ’e Pa dat hongry fuh eat’um, ’e gnash ’e teet’ en’ water run out ’e mout’. One time de hog git ketch een de fench en’ squeal. W’en Joe yeddy ’e woice ’e run out, en’ ’stead’uh ’e loose’um out de fench, ’e tek axe, knock’um een e’ head, en’ ’e tell Cuhlumbus ’e kill’um fuh pit’um out ’e mis’ry. Den ’e staa’t fuh eat’um to ’e tail en’ eat spang t’ru de hog ’tell ’e git to ’e head wuh uh fin’ een de pot! De berry day da’ nigguh tell me suh de sow eenjy uh berry po’ he’lt’, ’e done eat de hog’ two hanch! Uh _done_ wid feed Joe! Ef ’e maussuh lub’um tuh dat, _him_ kin feed’um! Meself, _uh done_!”

Though the abandoned Joe made bones of Philippa’s hopes, he made none about acknowledging the butchery, and boasting of it, away from home.

“Joe, you sho’ iz fat.”

“Yaas, man, uh fat fuh true. Uh binnuh eat hog meat. Philpuh him buy uh hog en’ sen’ um home, en’ de hog meet uh acksident een de fench, en’ uh ’f’aid ’e gwine dead lukkuh da’ todduh hog ’e hab fuh dead on me han’ one time, en’ buzzut git’um ’fo’ uh hab uh chance fuh eat’um. Buzzut git uhhead’uh me one time, but ’e nebbuh do’um two time! My maussuh’ nigguh haffuh smaa’t mo’nuh buzzut! Stepney[1] ain’ fuh come een _my_ house! Me fuh ’low my maussuh’ nigguh fuh perish fuh hog meat? _Me_ jaw full dry ’long cawn hom’ny, en’ buzzut mout’ fuh greesy ’long de ’ooman hog meat, enty? No suh! Uh gwine nyam’um fus’! _Uh kill’um ’fo’ ’e dead!_”

THE LION OF LEWISBURG