Mars Jeem's Nightmare by Charles Waddell Chesnutt
WE found old Julius very useful when we moved to our new residence.
He had a thorough knowledge of the neighborhood, was familiar with the
roads and the watercourses, knew the qualities of the various soils and
what they would produce, and where the best hunting and fishing were to
be had. He was a marvelous hand in the management of horses and dogs,
with whose mental processes he manifested a greater familiarity than
mere use would seem to account for, though it was doubtless due to the
simplicity of a life that had kept him close to nature. Toward my tract
of land and the things that were on it—the creeks, the swamps, the
hills, the meadows, the stones, the trees—he maintained a peculiar
personal attitude, that might be called predial rather than
proprietary. He had been accustomed, until long after middle life, to
look upon himself as the property of another. When this relation was no
longer possible, owing to the war, and to his master's death and the
dispersion of the family, he had been unable to break off entirely the
mental habits of a lifetime, but had attached himself to the old
plantation, of which he seemed to consider himself an appurtenance. We
found him useful in many ways and entertaining in others, and my wife
and I took quite a fancy to him.
Shortly after we became established in our home on the sand-hills,
Julius brought up to the house one day a colored boy of about
seventeen, whom he introduced as his grandson, and for whom he
solicited employment. I was not favorably impressed by the youth's
appearance,—quite the contrary, in fact; but mainly to please the old
man I hired Tom—his name was Tom—to help about the stables, weed
the garden, cut wood and bring water, and in general to make himself
useful about the outdoor work of the household.
My first impression of Tom proved to be correct. He turned out to be
very trifling, and I was much annoyed by his laziness, his
carelessness, and his apparent lack of any sense of responsibility. I
kept him longer than I should, on Julius's account, hoping that he
might improve; but he seemed to grow worse instead of better, and when
I finally reached the limit of my patience, I discharged him.
“I am sorry, Julius,” I said to the old man; “I should have liked to
oblige you by keeping him; but I can't stand Tom any longer. He is
“Yas, suh,” replied Julius, with a deep sigh and a long shake of the
head, “I knows he ain' much account, en dey ain' much 'pen'ence ter be
put on 'im. But I wuz hopin' dat you mought make some 'lowance fuh a'
ign'ant young nigger, suh, en gib 'im one mo' chance.”
But I had hardened my heart. I had always been too easily imposed
upon, and had suffered too much from this weakness. I determined to be
firm as a rock in this instance.
“No, Julius,” I rejoined decidedly, “it is impossible. I gave him
more than a fair trial, and he simply won't do.”
When my wife and I set out for our drive in the cool of the evening,
—afternoon is “evening” in Southern parlance,—one of the servants
put into the rockaway two large earthenware jugs. Our drive was to be
down through the swamp to the mineral spring at the foot of the
sand-hills beyond. The water of this spring was strongly impregnated
with sulphur and iron, and, while not particularly agreeable of smell
or taste, was used by us, in moderation, for sanitary reasons.
When we reached the spring, we found a man engaged in cleaning it
out. In answer to an inquiry he said that if we would wait five or ten
minutes, his task would be finished and the spring in such condition
that we could fill our jugs. We might have driven on, and come back by
way of the spring, but there was a bad stretch of road beyond, and we
concluded to remain where we were until the spring should be ready. We
were in a cool and shady place. It was often necessary to wait awhile
in North Carolina; and our Northern energy had not been entirely proof
against the influences of climate and local custom.
While we sat there, a man came suddenly around a turn of the road
ahead of us. I recognized in him a neighbor with whom I had exchanged
formal calls. He was driving a horse, apparently a high-spirited
creature, possessing, so far as I could see at a glance, the marks of
good temper and good breeding; the gentleman, I had heard it suggested,
was slightly deficient in both. The horse was rearing and plunging, and
the man was beating him furiously with a buggy-whip. When he saw us, he
flushed a fiery red, and, as he passed, held the reins with one hand,
at some risk to his safety, lifted his hat, and bowed somewhat
constrainedly as the horse darted by us, still panting and snorting
“He looks as though he were ashamed of himself,” I observed.
“I'm sure he ought to be,” exclaimed my wife indignantly. “I think
there is no worse sin and no more disgraceful thing than cruelty.”
“I quite agree with you,” I assented.
“A man w'at 'buses his hoss is gwine ter be ha'd on de folks w'at
wuks fer 'im,” remarked Julius. “Ef young Mistah McLean doan min',
he'll hab a bad dream one er dese days, des lack 'is grandaddy had way
back yander, long yeahs befo' de wah.”
“What was it about Mr. McLean's dream, Julius?” I asked. The man had
not yet finished cleaning the spring, and we might as well put in time
listening to Julius as in any other way. We had found some of his
plantation tales quite interesting.
“Mars Jeems McLean,” said Julius, “wuz de grandaddy er dis yer
gent'eman w'at is des gone by us beatin' his hoss. He had a big
plantation en a heap er niggers. Mars Jeems wuz a ha'd man, en monst'us
stric' wid his han's. Eber sence he growed up he nebber 'peared ter hab
no feelin' fer nobody. W'en his daddy, ole Mars John McLean, died, de
plantation en all de niggers fell ter young Mars Jeems. He had be'n bad
'nuff befo', but it wa'n't long atterwa'ds 'tel he got so dey wuz no
use in libbin' at all ef you ha' ter lib roun' Mars Jeems. His niggers
wuz bleedzd ter slabe fum daylight ter da'k, w'iles yuther folks's did
n' hefter wuk 'ceptn' fum sun ter sun; en dey didn' git no mo' ter eat
den dey oughter, en dat de coa'ses' kin'. Dey wa'n't 'lowed ter sing,
ner dance, ner play de banjo w'en Mars Jeems wuz roun' de place; fer
Mars Jeems say he wouldn' hab no sech gwines-on,—said he bought his
han's ter wuk, en not ter play, en w'en night come dey mus' sleep en
res', so dey'd be ready ter git up soon in de mawnin' en go ter dey wuk
fresh en strong.
“Mars Jeems didn' 'low no co'tin' er juneseyin' roun' his
plantation,—said he wanted his niggers ter put dey min's on dey wuk,
en not be wastin' dey time wid no sech foolis'ness. En he wouldn' let
his han's git married,—said he wuz n' raisin' niggers, but wuz
raisin' cotton. En w'eneber any er de boys en gals 'ud 'mence ter git
sweet on one ernudder, he'd sell one er de yuther un 'em, er sen' 'em
way down in Robeson County ter his yuther plantation, whar dey couldn'
nebber see one ernudder.
“Ef any er de niggers eber complained, dey got fo'ty; so co'se dey
didn' many un 'em complain. But dey didn' lack it, des de same, en
nobody couldn' blame 'em, fer dey had a ha'd time. Mars Jeems didn'
make no 'lowance fer nachul bawn laz'ness, ner sickness, ner trouble in
de min', ner nuffin; he wuz des gwine ter git so much wuk outer eve'y
han', er know de reason w'y.
“Dey wuz one time de niggers 'lowed fer a spell, dat Mars Jeems
mought git bettah. He tuk a lackin' ter Mars Marrabo McSwayne's oldes'
gal, Miss Libbie, en useter go ober dere eve'y day er eve'y ebenin', en
folks said dey wuz gwine ter git married sho'. But it 'pears dat Miss
Libbie heared 'bout de gwines-on on Mars Jeems's plantation, en she des
'lowed she couldn' trus' herse'f wid no sech a man; dat he mought git
so useter 'busin' his niggers dat he'd 'mence ter 'buse his wife atter
he got useter habbin' her roun' de house. So she 'clared she wuzn'
gwine ter hab nuffin mo' ter do wid young Mars Jeems.
“De niggers wuz all monst'us sorry w'en de match wuz bust' up, fer
now Mars Jeems got wusser'n he wuz befo' he sta'ted sweethea'tin'. De
time he useter spen' co'tin' Miss Libbie he put in findin' fault wid de
niggers, en all his bad feelin's 'ca'se Miss Libbie th'owed 'im ober
he'peared ter try ter wuk off on de po' niggers.
“W'iles Mars Jeems wuz co'tin' Miss Libbie, two er de han's on de
plantation had got ter settin' a heap er sto' by one ernudder. One un
'em wuz name' Solomon, en de yuther wuz a 'oman w'at wukked in de fiel'
'long er 'im—I fe'git dat 'oman's name, but it doan 'mount ter much
in de tale nohow. Now, whuther 'ca'se Mars Jeems wuz so tuk up wid his
own junesey 1 dat he didn' paid no
'tention fer a w'ile ter w'at wuz gwine on 'twix' Solomon en his
junesey, er whuther his own co'tin' made 'im kin' er easy on de co'tin'
in de qua'ters, dey ain' no tellin'. But dey's one thing sho', dat w'en
Miss Libbie th'owed 'im ober, he foun' out 'bout Solomon en de gal
monst'us quick, en gun Solomon fo'ty, en sont de gal down ter de
Robeson County plantation, en tol' all de niggers ef he ketch 'em at
any mo' sech foolishness, he wuz gwine ter skin 'em alibe en tan dey
hides befo' dey ve'y eyes. Co'se
he wouldn' 'a' done it, but he mought 'a' made things wusser'n dey
wuz. So you kin 'magine dey wa'n't much lub-makin' in de qua'ters fer a
“Mars Jeems useter go down ter de yuther plantation sometimes fer a
week er mo', en so he had ter hate a oberseah ter look atter his wuk
w'iles he 'uz gone. Mars Jeems's oberseah wuz a po' w'ite man name'
Nick Johnson,—de niggers called 'im Mars Johnson ter his face, but
behin' his back dey useter call 'im Ole Nick, en de name suited 'im ter
a T. He wuz wusser'n Mars Jeems ever da'ed ter be. Co'se de darkies
didn' lack de way Mars Jeems used 'em, but he wuz de marster, en had a
right ter do ez he please'; but dis yer Ole Nick wa'n't nuffin but a
po' buckrah, en all de niggers 'spised 'im ez much ez dey hated 'im,
fer he didn' own nobody, en wa'n't no bettah 'n a nigger, fer in dem
days any 'spectable pusson would ruther be a nigger dan a po' w'ite
“Now, atter Solomon's gal had be'n sont away, he kep' feelin' mo' en
mo' bad erbout it, 'tel fin'lly he 'lowed he wuz gwine ter see ef dey
couldn' be sump'n done fer ter git 'er back, en ter make Mars Jeems
treat de darkies bettah. So he tuk a peck er co'n out'n de ba'n one
night, en went ober ter see ole Aun' Peggy, de free-nigger cunjuh 'oman
down by de Wim'l'ton Road.
“Aun' Peggy listen' ter 'is tale, en ax' him some queshtuns, en den
tol' 'im she'd wuk her roots, en see w'at dey'd say 'bout it, en
ter-morrer night he sh'd come back ag'in en fetch ernudder peck er
co'n, en den she'd hab sump'n fer ter tell 'im.
“So Solomon went back de nex' night, en sho' 'nuff, Aun' Peggy tol'
'im w'at ter do. She gun 'im some stuff w'at look' lack it be'n made by
poundin' up some roots en yarbs wid a pestle in a mo'tar.
“ 'Dis yer stuff,' sez she, 'is monst'us pow'ful kin' er goopher.
You take dis home, en gin it ter de cook, ef you kin trus' her, en tell
her fer ter put it in yo' marster's soup de fus' cloudy day he hab okra
soup fer dinnah. Min' you follers de d'rections.'
“ 'It ain' gwineter p'isen 'im, is it?' Solomon, gittin' kin' er
skeered; fer Solomon wuz a good man, en didn' want ter do nobody no
“ 'Oh, no,' sez ole Aun' Peggy, 'it's gwine ter do 'im good, but
he'll hab a monst'us bad dream fus'. A mont' fum now you come down heah
en lemme know how de goopher is wukkin'. Fer I ain' done much er dis
kin' er cunj'in' er late yeahs, en I has ter kinder keep track un it
ter see dat it doan 'complish no mo'd'n I 'lows fer it ter do. En I has
ter be kinder keerful 'bout cunj'in w'ite folks; so be sho' en lemme
know, w'ateber you do, des w'at is gwine on roun' de plantation.'
“So Solomon say all right, en tuk de goopher mixtry up ter de big
house en gun it ter de cook, en tol' her fer ter put it in Mars Jeems's
soup de fus' cloudy day she hab okra soup fer dinnah. It happen' dat de
ve'y nex' day wuz a cloudy day, en so de cook made okra soup fer Mars
Jeems's dinnah, en put de powder Solomon gun her inter de soup, en made
de soup rale good, so Mars Jeems eat a whole lot of it en 'peered ter
“De nex' mawnin' Mars Jeems tol' de oberseah he wuz gwine 'way on
some bizness, en den he wuz gwine ter his yuther plantation, down in
Robeson County, en he didn' 'spec' he'd be back fer a mont' er so.
“ 'But,' sezee, 'I wants you ter run dis yer plantation fer all it's
wuth. Dese yer niggers is gittin' monst'us triflin' en lazy en
keerless, en dey ain' no 'pen'ence ter be put in 'em. I wants dat
stop', en w'iles I'm gone erway I wants de 'spenses cut 'way down en a
heap mo' wuk done. Fac', I wants dis yer plantation ter make a reco'd
dat'll show w'at kinder oberseah you is.'
“Ole Nick didn' said nuffin but 'Yas, suh,' but de way he kinder
grin' ter hisse'f en show' his big yaller teef, en snap' de rawhide he
useter kyar roun' wid 'im, made col' chills run up and down de backbone
er dem niggers w'at heared Mars Jeems a-talkin'. En dat night dey wuz
mo'nin' en groanin' down in de qua'ters, fer de niggers all knowed w'at
“So, sho' 'nuff, Mars Jeems went erway nex' mawnin', en de trouble
begun. Mars Johnson sta'ted off de ve'y fus' day fer ter see w'at he
could hab ter show Mars Jeems w'en he come back. He made de tasks
bigger en de rashuns littler, en w'en de niggers had wukked all day,
he'd fin' sump'n fer 'em ter do roun' de ba'n er som'ers atter da'k,
fer ter keep 'em busy a' hour er so befo' dey went ter sleep.
“About th'ee er fo' days atter Mars Jeems went erway, young Mars
Dunkin McSwayne rode up ter de big house one day wid a nigger settin'
behin' 'im in de buggy, tied ter de seat, en ax' ef Mars Jeems wuz
home. Mars Johnson wuz at de house, and he say no.
“ 'Well,' sez Mars Dunkin, sezee, 'I fotch dis nigger ober ter
Mistah McLean fer ter pay a bet I made wid 'im las' week w'en we wuz
playin' kya'ds te'gedder. I bet 'im a nigger man, en heah's one I
reckon'll fill de bill. He wuz tuk up de yuther day fer a stray nigger,
en he couldn' gib no 'count er hisse'f, en so he wuz sol' at oction, en
I bought 'im. He's kinder brash, but I knows yo' powers, Mistah
Johnson, en I reckon ef anybody kin make 'im toe de ma'k, you is de
“Mars Johnson grin' one er dem grins w'at show' all his snaggle
teef, en make de niggers 'low he look lack de ole debbil, en sezee ter
“ 'I reckon you kin trus' me, Mistah Dunkin, fer ter tame any nigger
wuz eber bawn. De nigger doan lib w'at I can't take down in 'bout fo'
“Well, Ole Nick had 'is han's full long er dat noo nigger; en w'iles
de res' er de darkies wuz sorry fer de po' man, dey 'lowed he kep' Mars
Johnson so busy dat dey got along better'n dey'd 'a' done ef de noo
nigger had nebber come.
“De fus' thing dat happen', Mars Johnson sez ter dis yer noo man:—
“ 'W'at's yo' name, Sambo?'
“ 'My name ain' Sambo,' 'spon' de noo nigger.
“ 'Did I ax you w'at yo' name wa'n't?' sez Mars Johnson. 'You wants
ter be pa'tic'lar how you talks ter me. Now, w'at is yo' name, en whar
did you come fum?'
“ 'I dunno my name,' sez de nigger, 'en I doan 'member whar I come
fum. My head is all kin' er mix' up.'
“ 'Yas,' sez Mars Johnson, 'I reckon I'll ha' ter gib you sump'n fer
ter cl'ar yo' head. At de same time, it'll l'arn you some manners, en
atter dis mebbe you'll say “suh” w'en you speaks ter me.'
“Well, Mars Johnson haul' off wid his rawhide en hit de noo nigger
once. De noo man look' at Mars Johnson fer a minute ez ef he didn' know
w'at ter make er dis yer kin' er l'arnin'. But w'en de oberseah raise'
his w'ip ter hit him ag'in, de noo nigger des haul' off en made fer
Mars Johnson, en ef some er de yuther niggers hadn' stop' 'im, it
'peered ez ef he mought 'a' made it wa'm fer Ole Nick dere fer a w'ile.
But de oberseah made de yuther niggers he'p tie de noo nigger up, en
den gun 'im fo'ty, wid a dozen er so th'owed in fer good measure, fer
Ole Nick wuz nebber stingy wid dem kin' er rashuns. De nigger went on
at a tarrable rate, des lack a wil' man, but co'se he wuz bleedzd ter
take his med'cine, fer he wuz tied up en couldn' he'p hisse'f.
Mars Johnson lock' de noo nigger up in de ba'n, en didn' gib 'im
nuffin ter eat fer a day er so, 'tel he got 'im kin'er quiet' down, en
den he tu'nt 'im loose en put 'im ter wuk. De nigger 'lowed he wa'n't
useter wukkin', en wouldn' wuk, en Mars Johnson gun 'im anudder fo'ty
fer laziness en impidence, en let 'im fas' a day er so mo', en den put
'im ter wuk ag'in. De nigger went ter wuk, but didn' 'pear ter know how
ter han'le a hoe. It tuk des 'bout half de oberseah's time lookin'
atter 'im, en dat po' nigger got mo' lashin's en cussin's en cuffin's
dan any fo'yuthers on de plantation. He didn' mix' wid ner talk much
ter de res' er de niggers, en couldn' 'peer ter git it th'oo his min'
dat he wuz a slabe en had ter wuk en min' de w'ite folks, spite er de
fac' dat Ole Nick gun 'im a lesson eve'y day. En fin'lly Mars Johnson
'lowed dat he couldn' do nuffin wid 'im; dat ef he wuz his nigger, he'd
break his sperrit er break 'is neck, one er de yuther. But co'se he wuz
only sont ober on trial, en ez he didn' gib sat'sfaction, en he had n'
heared fum Mars Jeems 'bout w'en he wuz comin' back; en ez he wuz
feared he'd git mad some time er 'nuther en kill de nigger befo' he
knowed it, he 'lowed he'd better sen' 'im back whar he come fum. So he
tied 'im up en sont 'im back ter Mars Dunkin.
“Now, Mars Dunkin McSwayne wuz one er dese yer easy-gwine gent'emen
w'at didn' lack ter hate no trouble wid niggers er nobody e'se, en he
knowed ef Mars Ole Nick couldn' git 'long wid dis nigger, nobody could.
So he tuk de nigger ter town dat same day, en sol' 'im ter a trader
w'at wuz gittin' up a gang er lackly niggers fer ter ship off on de
steamboat ter go down de ribber ter Wim'l'ton en fum dere ter Noo
“De nex' day atter de noo man had be'n sont away, Solomon wuz
wukkin' in de cotton-fiel', en w'en he got ter de fence nex' ter de
woods, at de een' er de row, who sh'd he see on de yuther side but ole
Aun' Peggy. She beckon' ter 'im,—de oberseah wuz down on de yuther
side er de fiel',—en sez she:—
“ 'W'y ain' you done come en 'po'ted ter me lack I tol' you?'
“ 'W'y, law! Aun' Peggy,' sez Solomon, 'dey ain' nuffin ter 'po't.
Mars Jeems went away de day atter we gun 'im de goopher mixtry, en we
ain' seed hide ner hair un 'im sence, en co'se we doan know nuffin
'bout w'at 'fec' it had on im.'
“ 'I doan keer nuffin 'bout yo' Mars Jeems now; w'at I wants ter
know is w'at is be'n gwine on 'mongs' de niggers. Has you be'n gittin'
'long any better on de plantation?'
“ 'No, Aun' Peggy, we be'n gittin' 'long wusser. Mars Johnson is
stric'er 'n he eber wuz befo', en de po' niggers doan ha'dly git time
ter draw dey bref, en dey 'lows dey mought des ez well be dead ez
“ 'Uh huh!' sez Aun' Peggy, sez she, 'I tol' you dat 'uz monst'us
pow'ful goopher, en its wuk doan 'pear all at once.'
“ 'Long ez we had dat noo nigger heah,' Solomon went on, 'he kep'
Mars Johnson busy pa't er de time; but now he's gone erway, I s'pose de
res' un us'll ketch it wusser'n eber.'
“ 'W'at's gone wid de noo nigger?' sez Aun' Peggy, rale quick,
battin' her eyes en straight'nin' up.
” 'Ole Nick done sont 'im back ter Mars Dunkin, who had fotch 'im
heah fer ter pay a gamblin' debt ter Mars Jeems,' sez Solomon, 'en I
heahs Mars Dunkin has sol' 'im ter a nigger-trader up in Patesville,
w'at's gwine ter ship 'im off wid a gang ter-morrer.'
“Ole Aun' Peggy 'peared ter git rale stirred up w'en Solomon tol'
'er dat, en sez she, shakin' her stick at 'im:—
“ 'W'y didn' you come en tell me 'bout dis noo nigger bein' sol'
erway? Didn' you promus me, ef I'd gib you dat goopher, you'd come en
'po't ter me 'bout all w'at wuz gwine on on dis plantation? Co'se I
could 'a' foun' out fer myse'f, but I'pended on yo' tellin' me, en now
by not doin' it I's feared you gwine spile my cunj'in'. You come down
ter my house ter-night en do w'at I tells you, er I'll put a spell on
you dat'll make yo' ha'r fall out so you'll be bal', en yo' eyes drap
out so you can't see, en yo teef fall out so you can't eat, en yo'
years grow up so you can't heah. W'en you is foolin' wid a cunjuh 'oman
lack me, you got ter min' yo' P's en Q's er dey'll be trouble sho'
“So co'se Solomon went down ter Aun' Peggy's dat night, en she gun
'im a roasted sweet'n' 'tater.
“ 'You take dis yer sweet'n' 'tater,' sez she,—'I done goophered
it 'speshly fer dat noo nigger, so you better not eat it yo'se'f er
you'll wush you hadn',—en slip off ter town, en fin' dat strange man,
en gib 'im dis yer sweet'n' 'tater. He mus' eat it befo' mawnin', sho',
ef he doan wanter be sol' erway ter Noo Orleens.'
“ 'But s'posen de patteroles ketch me, Aun' Peggy, w'at I gwine ter
do?' sez Solomon.
“ 'De patteroles ain' gwine tech you, but ef you doan fin' dat
nigger, I'm gwine git you, en you'll fin' me wusser'n de
patteroles. Des hol' on a minute, en I'll sprinkle you wid some er dis
mixtry out'n dis yer bottle, so de patteroles can't see you, en you kin
rub yo' feet wid some er dis yer grease out'n dis go'd, so you kin run
fas', en rub some un it on yo' eyes so you kin see in de da'k; en den
you mus' fin' dat noo nigger en gib 'im dis yer 'tater, er you gwine
ter hab mo' trouble on yo' han's 'n you eber had befo' in yo' life er
eber will hab sence.'
“So Solomon tuk de sweet'n' 'tater en sta'ted up de road fas' ez he
could go, en befo' long he retch' town. He went right 'long by de
patteroles, en dey didn' 'pear ter notice 'im, en bimeby he foun' whar
de strange nigger was kep', en he walked right pas' de gyard at de do'
en foun' 'im. De nigger couldn' see 'im, ob co'se, en he couldn' 'a'
seed de nigger in de da'k, ef it hadn' be'n fer de stuff Aun' Peggy gun
'im ter rub on 'is eyes. De nigger wuz layin' in a co'nder, 'sleep, en
Solomon des slip' up ter 'im, en hilt dat sweet'n' 'tater' fo' de
nigger's nose, en he des nach'ly retch' up wid his han', en tuk de
'tater en eat it in his sleep, widout knowin' it. W'en Solomon seed
he'd done eat de 'tater, he went back en tol' Aun' Peggy, en den went
home ter his cabin ter sleep, 'way 'long 'bout two o'clock in de
“De nex' day wuz Sunday, en so de niggers had a little time ter
deyse'ves. Solomon wuz kinder 'sturb' in his min' thinkin' 'bout his
junesey w'at 'uz gone away, en wond'rin' w'at Aun' Peggy had ter do wid
dat noo nigger; en he had sa'ntered up in de woods so's ter be by
hisse'f a little, en at de same time ter look atter a rabbit-trap he 'd
sot down in de aidge er de swamp, w'en who sh'd he see stan'in' unner a
tree but a w'ite man.
“Solomon didn' knowed de w'ite man at fus', 'tel de w'ite man spoke
up ter 'im.
“ 'Is dat you, Solomon?' sezee.
“Den Solomon reco'nized de voice.
“ 'Fer de Lawd's sake, Mars Jeems! is dat you?'
“ 'Yes, Solomon,' sez his marster, 'dis is me, er w'at's lef' er
“It wasn't no wonder Solomon hadn' knowed Mars Jeems at fus', fer he
wuz dress' lack a po' w'ite man, en wuz barefooted, en look' monst'us
pale en peaked, ez ef he'd des come th'oo a ha'd spell er sickness.
“ 'You er lookin' kinder po'ly, Mars Jeems,' sez Solomon. 'Is you
be'n sick, suh?'
“ 'No, Solomon,' sez Mars Jeems, shakin' his head, en speakin'
sorter slow en sad, 'I ain' be'n sick, but I's had a monst'us bad
dream,—fac', a reg'lar, nach'ul nightmare. But tell me how things has
be'n gwine on up ter de plantation sence I be'n gone, Solomon.'
“So Solomon up en tol' 'im 'bout de craps, en 'bout de hosses en de
mules, en 'bout de cows en de hawgs. En w'en he 'mence' ter tell 'bout
de noo nigger, Mars Jeems prick' up 'is yeahs en listen', en eve'y now
en den he'd say, 'Uh huh! uh huh!' en nod 'is head. En bimeby, w'en
he'd ax' Solomon some mo' queshtuns, he sez, sezee:—
“ 'Now, Solomon, I doan want you ter say a wo'd ter nobody 'bout
meetin' me heah, but I wants you ter slip up ter de house, en fetch me
some clo's en some shoes,—I fergot ter tell you dat a man rob' me
back yander on de road en swap' clo's wid me widout axin' me whuther er
no,—but you neenter say nuffin 'bout dat, nuther. You go en fetch me
some clo's heah, so nobody won't see you, en keep yo' mouf shet, en
I'll gib you a dollah.'
“Solomon wuz so 'stonish' he lack ter fell ober in his tracks, w'en
Mars Jeems promus' ter gib 'im a dollah. Dey su't'nly wuz a change come
ober Mars Jeems, w'en he offer' one er his niggers dat much money.
Solomon 'mence' ter 'spec' dat Aun' Peggy's cunj'ation had be'n wukkin'
“Solomon fotch Mars Jeems some clo's en shoes, en dat same eb'nin'
Mars Jeems 'peared at de house, en let on lack he des dat minute got
home fum Robeson County. Mars Johnson was all ready ter talk ter'im,
but Mars Jeems sont 'im wo'd he wa'n't feelin've'y well dat night, en
he'd see 'im ter-morrer.
“So nex' mawnin' atter breakfus' Mars Jeems sont fer de oberseah, en
ax' 'im fer ter gib 'count er his styoa'dship. Ole Nick tol' Mars Jeems
how much wuk be'n done, en got de books en showed 'im how much money
be'n save'. Den Mars Jeems ax' 'im how de darkies be'n behabin', en
Mars Johnson say dey be'n behabin' good, most un 'em, en dem w'at didn'
behabe good at fus' change dey conduc' atter he got holt un 'em a time
“ 'All,' sezee, ''cep'n' de noo nigger Mistah Dunkin fotch ober heah
en lef' on trial, w'iles you wuz gone.'
“ 'Oh, yas,' 'lows Mars Jeems, 'tell me all 'bout dat noo nigger. I
heared a little 'bout dat quare noo nigger las' night, en it wuz des
too redik'lus. Tell me all 'bout dat noo nigger.'
“So seein' Mars Jeems so good-nachu'd 'bout it, Mars Johnson up en
tol' 'im how he tied up de noo han' de fus' day en gun 'im fo'ty 'ca'se
he wouldn tell 'im 'is name.
“ 'Ha, ha, ha!' sez Mars Jeems, laffin' fit ter kill, 'but dat is
too funny fer any use. Tell me some mo' 'bout dat noo nigger.'
“So Mars Johnson went on en tol' 'im how he had ter starbe de noo
nigger 'fo' he could make 'im take holt er a hoe.
“ 'Dat wuz de beatinis' notion fer a nigger,' sez Mars Jeems,
'puttin' on airs, des lack he wuz a w'ite man! En I reckon you didn' do
nuffin ter 'im?'
“ 'Oh, no, suh,' sez de oberseah, grinnin' lack a cheesy-cat, 'I
didn' do nuffin but take de hide off'n 'im.'
“Mars Jeems lafft en lafft, 'tel it 'peared lack he wuz des gwine
ter bu'st. 'Tell me some mo' 'bout dat noo nig ger, oh, tell
me some mo'. Dat noo nigger int'rusts me, he do, en dat is a fac'.'
“Mars Johnson didn' quite un'erstan' w'y Mars Jeems sh'd make sich a
great 'miration 'bout de noo nigger, but co'se he want' ter please de
gent'eman w'at hi'ed 'im, en so he 'splain' all 'bout how many times he
had ter cowhide de noo nigger, en how he made 'im do tasks twicet ez
big ez some er de yuther han's, en how he'd chain 'im up in de ba'n at
night en feed 'im on co'n-bread en water.
“ 'Oh! but you is a monst'us good oberseah; you is de bes' oberseah
in dis county, Mistah Johnson,' sez Mars Jeems, w'en de oberseah got
th'oo wid his tale; 'en dey ain' nebber be'n no nigger- breaker lack
you roun' heah befo'. En you desarbes great credit fer sendin' dat
nigger 'way befo' you sp'ilt 'im fer de market. Fac', you is sech a
monst'us good oberseah, en you is got dis yer plantation in sech fine
shape, dat I reckon I doan need you no mo'. You is got dese yer darkies
so well train' dat I 'spec' I kin run em' myse'f fum dis time on. But I
does wush you had 'a' hilt on ter dat noo nigger 'tel I got home, fer
I'd 'a' lack ter 'a' seed 'im, I su't'nly should.'
“De oberseah woz so 'stonish' he didn' ha'dly know w'at ter say, but
fin'lly he ax' Mars Jeems ef he wouldn' gib 'im a riccommen' fer ter
git ernudder place.
“ 'No, suh,' sez Mars Jeems, 'somehow er 'nuther I doan lack yo'
looks sence I come back dis time, en I'd much ruther you wouldn' stay
roun' heah. Fac', I's feared ef I'd meet you alone in de woods some
time, I mought wanter ha'm you. But layin' dat aside, I be'n lookin'
ober dese yer books er yo'n w'at you kep' w'iles I wuz 'way, en fer a
yeah er so back, en dere's some figgers w'at ain' des cl'ar ter me. I
ain' got no time fer ter talk 'bout 'em now, but I 'spec' befo' I
settles wid you fer dis las' mont', you better come up heah ter-morrer,
atter I's look' de books en 'counts ober some mo', en den we 'll
straighten ou' business all up.'
“Mars Jeems 'lowed atterwa'ds dat he wuz des shootin' in de da'k
w'en he said dat 'bout de books, but howsomeber, Mars Nick Johnson lef'
dat naberhood 'twix' de nex' two suns, en nobody roun' dere nebber seed
hide ner hair un 'im sence. En all de darkies t'ank de Lawd, en 'lowed
it wuz a good riddance er bad rubbage.
“But all dem things I done tol' you ain' nuffin 'side'n de change
w'at come ober Mars Jeems fum dat time on. Aun' Peggy's goopher had
made a noo man un 'im enti'ely. De nex' day atter he come back, he tol'
de han's dey neenter wuk on'y fum sun ter sun, en he cut dey tasks down
so dey didn' nobody hate ter stan' ober 'em wid a rawhide er a hick'ry.
En he 'lowed ef de niggers want ter hab a dance in de big ba'n any
Sad'day night, dey mought hab it. En bimeby, w'en Solomon seed how good
Mars Jeems wuz, he ax' 'im ef he would n please sen' down ter de yuther
plantation fer his junesey. Mars Jeems say su't'nly, en gun Solomon a
pass en a note ter de oberseah on de yuther plantation, en sont Solomon
down ter Robeson County wid a hoss en buggy fer ter fetch his junesey
back. W'en de niggers see how fine Mars Jeems gwine treat 'em, dey all
tuk ter sweethea'tin' en juneseyin' en singin' en dancin', en eight er
ten couples got married, en bimeby eve'ybody 'mence' ter say Mars Jeems
McLean got a finer plantation, en slicker-lookin' niggers, en dat he
'uz makin' mo' cotton en co'n, den any yuther gent'eman in de county.
En Mars Jeems's own junesey, Miss Libbie, heared 'bout de noo gwines-on
on Mars Jeems's plantation, en she change' her min' 'bout Mars Jeems en
tuk 'im back ag'in, en 'fo' long dey had a fine weddin', en all de
darkies had a big feas', en dey wuz fiddlin' en dancin' en funnin' en
frolic'in' fum sundown 'tel mawnin'.”
“And they all lived happy ever after,” I said, as the old man
reached a full stop.
“Yas, suh,” he said, interpreting my remarks as a question, “dey
did. Solomon useter say,” he added, “dat Aun' Peggy's goopher had turnt
Mars Jeems ter a nigger, en dat dat noo han' wuz Mars Jeems hisse'f.
But co'se Solomon didn' das' ter let on 'bout w'at he 'spicioned, en
ole Aun' Peggy would 'a' 'nied it ef she had be'n ax', fer she'd 'a'
got in trouble sho', ef it 'uz knowed she'd be'n cunj'in' de w'ite
“Dis yer tale goes ter show,” concluded Julius sententiously, as the
man came up and announced that the spring was ready for us to get
water, “dat w'ite folks w'at is so ha'd en stric', en doan make no
'lowance fer po' ign'ant niggers w'at ain' had no chanst ter l'arn, is
li'ble ter hab bad dreams, ter say de leas', en dat dem w'at is kin' en
good ter po' people is sho' ter prosper en git long in de worl'.”
“That is a very strange story, Uncle Julius,” observed my wife,
smiling, “and Solomon's explanation is quite improbable.”
“Yes, Julius,” said I, “that was powerful goopher. I am glad, too,
that you told us the moral of the story; it might have escaped us
otherwise. By the way, did you make that up all by yourself?”
The old man's face assumed an injured look, expressive more of
sorrow than of anger, and shaking his head he replied:—
“No, suh, I heared dat tale befo' you er Mis' Annie dere wuz bawn,
suh. My mammy tol' me dat tale w'en I wa'n't mo'd'n knee-high ter a
I drove to town next morning, on some business, and did not return
until noon; and after dinner I had to visit a neighbor, and did not get
back until supper-time. I was smoking a cigar on the back piazza in the
early evening, when I saw a familiar figure carrying a bucket of water
to the barn. I called my wife.
“My dear,” I said severely, “what is that rascal doing here? I
thought I discharged him yesterday for good and all.”
“Oh, yes,” she answered, “I forgot to tell you. He was hanging round
the place all the morning, and looking so down in the mouth, that I
told him that if he would try to do better, we would give him one more
chance. He seems so grateful, and so really in earnest in his promises
of amendment, that I'm sure you 'll not regret taking him back.”
I was seriously enough annoyed to let my cigar go out. I did not
share my wife's rose-colored hopes in regard to Tom; but as I did not
wish the servants to think there was any conflict of authority in the
household, I let the boy stay.