The Conjure Woman Charles W. Chesnutt (best fiction novels .TXT) đ
- Author: Charles W. Chesnutt
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âAnd they all lived happy ever after,â I said, as the old man reached a full stop.
âYas, suh,â he said, interpreting my remarks as a question, âdey did. Solomon useter say,â he added, âdat Aunâ Peggyâs goopher had turnt Mars Jeems ter a nigger, en dat dat noo hanâ wuz Mars Jeems hisseâf. But coâse Solomon didnâ dasâ ter let on âbout wâat he âspicioned, en ole Aunâ Peggy would âaâ ânied it ef she had beân axâ, fer sheâd âaâ got in trouble shoâ, ef it âuz knowed sheâd beân cunjâinâ de wâite folks.
âDis yer tale goes ter show,â concluded Julius sententiously, as the man came up and announced that the spring was ready for us to get water, âdat wâite folks wâat is so haâd en stricâ, en doan make no âlowance fer poâ ignâant niggers wâat ainâ had no chanst ter lâarn, is liâble ter hab bad dreams, ter say de leasâ, en dat dem wâat is kinâ en good ter poâ people is shoâ ter prosper en git âlong in de worlâ.â
âThat is a very strange story, Uncle Julius,â observed my wife, smiling, âand Solomonâs explanation is quite improbable.â
âYes, Julius,â said I, âthat 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?â
The old manâs face assumed an injured look, expressive more of sorrow than of anger, and shaking his head he replied:â â
âNo, suh, I heared dat tale befoâ you er Misâ Annie dere wuz bawn, suh. My mammy tolâ me dat tale wâen I waânât moâ dân knee-high ter a hopper-grass.â
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 suppertime. 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.
âMy dear,â I said severely, âwhat is that rascal doing here? I thought I discharged him yesterday for good and all.â
âOh, yes,â she answered, âI 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 Iâm sure youâll not regret taking him back.â
I was seriously enough annoyed to let my cigar go out. I did not share my wifeâs 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.
The Conjurerâs RevengeSunday was sometimes a rather dull day at our place. In the morning, when the weather was pleasant, my wife and I would drive to town, a distance of about five miles, to attend the church of our choice. The afternoons we spent at home, for the most part, occupying ourselves with the newspapers and magazines, and the contents of a fairly good library. We had a piano in the house, on which my wife played with skill and feeling. I possessed a passable baritone voice, and could accompany myself indifferently well when my wife was not by to assist me. When these resources failed us, we were apt to find it a little dull.
One Sunday afternoon in early springâ âthe balmy spring of North Carolina, when the air is in that ideal balance between heat and cold where one wishes it could always remainâ âmy wife and I were seated on the front piazza, she wearily but conscientiously ploughing through a missionary report, while I followed the impossible career of the blonde heroine of a rudimentary novel. I had thrown the book aside in disgust, when I saw Julius coming through the yard, under the spreading elms, which were already in full leaf. He wore his Sunday clothes, and advanced with a dignity of movement quite different from his weekday slouch.
âHave a seat, Julius,â I said, pointing to an empty rocking-chair.
âNo, thanky, boss, Iâll des set here on de top step.â
âOh, no, Uncle Julius,â exclaimed Annie, âtake this chair. You will find it much more comfortable.â
The old man grinned in appreciation of her solicitude, and seated himself somewhat awkwardly.
âJulius,â I remarked, âI am thinking of setting out scuppernong vines on that sand-hill where the three persimmon-trees are; and while Iâm working there, I think Iâll plant watermelons between the vines, and get a little something to pay for my first yearâs work. The new railroad will be finished by the middle of summer, and I can ship the melons North, and get a good price for them.â
âEf you er gwine ter hab any moâ ploughinâ ter do,â replied Julius, âI âspecâ youâll haâ ter buy ernudder creetur, âcaâse hitâs much ez dem hosses kin do ter âtenâ ter de wuk dey got now.â
âYes, I had thought of that. I think Iâll get a mule; a mule can do more work, and doesnât require as much attention as a horse.â
âI wouldnâ âvise you ter buy no mule,â remarked Julius, with a shake of his head.
âWhy not?â
âWell, you may âlow hitâs all foolisâness, but ef I wuz in yoâ place, I wouldnâ buy no mule.â
âBut that isnât a reason; what objection have you to a mule?â
âFacâ is,â continued the old man, in a serious tone, âI doan lack ter dribe a mule. Iâs alluz afeared I mought be imposinâ on some human creetur; eveây time I cuts a mule wid a hickâry, âpears ter me mosâ lackly Iâs cuttinâ some er my own relations, er somebody eâse wâat canât heâp deyseâves.â
âWhat put such an absurd idea into your head?â I asked.
My question was followed by a short silence,
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