Iola Leroy Frances Ellen Watkins Harper (classic literature list txt) đ
- Author: Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Book online «Iola Leroy Frances Ellen Watkins Harper (classic literature list txt) đ». Author Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
âNow, jesâ wait a bit, and donât frustrate my mine. I seed day arter day Miss Anna war gettinâ weaker and thinner, anâ she looked so sweet and talked so putty, I thinks to myself, âyou ainât long for dis worlâ.â And she said to me one day, âUncle Danâel, when Iâse gone, I want you to be good to your Marster Robert.â Anâ she looked so pale and weak I war almost ready to cry. I couldnât help it. She hed allers bin mighty good to me. Anâ I beliebs in praisinâ de bridge dat carries me ober. She said, âUncle Danâel, I wish you war free. Ef I had my way you shouldnât serve anyone when Iâm gone; but Mr. Thurston had eberything in his power when he made his will. I war tied hand and foot, and I couldnât help it.â In a little while she war goneâ âjisâ faded away like a flower. I belieb ef dereâs a saint in glory, Miss Annaâs dere.â
âOh, I donât take much stock in white folksâ religion,â said Robert, laughing carelessly.
âThe way,â said Tom Anderson, âdat some of dese folks cut their cards yere, I think deyâll be as sceece in hebben as henâs teeth. I think wen some of dem preachers brings de Bible âround anâ tells us âbout mindin our marsters and not stealinâ dere tings, dat dey preach to please de white folks, anâ dey frows coleness ober de meetinâ.â
âAnâ I,â said Aunt Linda, âneber did belieb in dem Bible preachers. I yered one ob dem sayinâ wen he war dyinâ, it war all dark wid him. Anâ de way he treated his house-girl, pore thing, I donât wonder dat it war dark wid him.â
âO, I guess,â said Robert, âthat the Bible is all right, but some of these church folks donât get the right hang of it.â
âMay be datâs so,â said Aunt Linda. âBut I allers wanted to learn how to read. I once had a book, and tried to make out what war in it, but ebery time my mistus caught me wid a book in my hand, she used to whip my fingers. Anâ I couldnât see ef it war good for white folks, why it warnât good for cullud folks.â
âWell,â said Tom Anderson, âI belieb in de good ole-time religion. But arter dese white folks is done fussinâ and beatinâ de cullud folks, I donât want âem to come talking religion to me. We used to hab on our place a real Guinea man, anâ once he made ole Marse mad, anâ he had him whipped. Old Marse war trying to break him in, but dat fellow war spunk to de backbone, anâ when he âgin talkinâ to him âbout savinâ his soul anâ gittinâ to hebbin, he tole him ef he went to hebbin anâ founâ he war dare, he wouldnât go in. He wouldnât stay wid any such rascal as he war.â
âWhat became of him?â asked Robert.
âOh, he died. But he had some quare notions âbout religion. He thought dat when he died he would go back to his ole country. He allers kepâ his ole Guinea name.â
âWhat was it?â
âPotobombra. Do you know what he wanted Marster to do âfore he died?â continued Anderson.
âNo.â
âHe wanted him to gib him his free papers.â
âDid he do it?â
âOb course he did. As de poor fellow war dying anâ he couldnât sell him in de oder world, he jisâ wrote him de papers to yumor him. He didnât want to go back to Africa a slave. He thought if he did, his people would look down on him, anâ he wanted to go back a free man. He war orful weak when Marster brought him de free papers. He jisâ ris up in de bed, clutched dem in his hanâs, smiled, anâ gasped out, âIâse free at lasâ; anâ fell back on de pillar, anâ he war gone. Oh, but he war spunky. De oberseers, arter dey founâ out who he war, ginârally gabe him a wide birth. I specs his father war some ole Guinea king.â
âWell, chillen,â said Uncle Daniel, âweâs kept up dis meeting long enough. Weâd better go home, and not all go one way, cause de patrollers might git us all inter trouble, anâ we must try to slip home by hook or crook.â
âAnâ when we meet again, Uncle Daniel can finish his story, anâ be ready to go with us,â said Robert.
âI wish,â said Tom Anderson, âhe would go wid us, de wuss kind.â
III Uncle Danielâs StoryThe Union had snapped asunder because it lacked the cohesion of justice, and the Nation was destined to pass through the crucible of disaster and defeat, till she was ready to clasp hands with the negro and march abreast with him to freedom and victory.
The Union army was encamping a few miles from Câ âžș, in North Carolina. Robert, being well posted on the condition of affairs, had stealthily contrived to call a meeting in Uncle Danielâs cabin. Uncle Danielâs wife had gone to bed as a sick sister, and they held a prayer-meeting by her bedside. It was a little risky, but as Mr. Thurston did not encourage the visits of the patrollers, and heartily detested having them prying into his cabins, there was not much danger of molestation.
âWell, Uncle Daniel, we want to hear your story, and see if you have made up your mind to go with us,â said Robert, after he had been seated a few minutes in Uncle Danielâs cabin.
âNo, chillen, Iâve no objection to finishinâ my story, but I ainât made up my mind to leave the place till Marse Robert gits back.â
âYou were telling us about Marse Robertâs mother. How did you get along after she died?â
âArter she war gone, ole Marsterâs folks come to look arter things. But eberything war lefâ to Marse Robert, anâ he wouldnât do widout
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