FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   113   114   115   116   117   118   119   120   121   122   123   124   125   126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135   136   137  
138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   149   150   151   152   153   154   155   156   157   158   159   160   161   162   >>   >|  
hat word is a lie," says the doctor. "I DID come here to try out some stuff to change the colour of negro skins. That's all. And I find your idiotic followers are all stirred up and waiting for some kind of a miracle monger. What you have been preaching to them, you know best. Is that all you want to know?" The bishop hems and haws and fiddles with his stick, and then he says: "Suh, will dish yeah prepa'shun SHO'LY do de wohk?" Doctor Kirby tells him it will do the work all right. And then the bishop, after beating around the bush some more, comes out with his idea. Whether he expected there would be any Messiah come or not, of course he knowed the doctor wasn't him. But he is willing to boost the doctor's game as long as it boosts HIS game. He wants to be in on the deal. He wants part of the graft. He wants to get together with the doctor on a plan before the doctor sees the niggers. And if the doctor don't want to keep on with the miracle end of it, the bishop shows him how he could do him good with no miracle attachment. Fur he has an awful holt on them niggers, and his say-so will sell thousands and thousands of bottles. What he is looking fur jest now is his little take-out. That was his craftiness and his cunningness working in him. But all of a sudden one of his crazy streaks come bulging to the surface. It come with a wild, eager look in his eyes. "Suh," he cries out, all of a sudden, "ef yo' kin make me white, fo' Gawd sakes, do hit! Do hit! Ef yo' does, I gwine ter bless yo' all yo' days! "Yo' don' know--no one kin guess or comperhen'--what des bein' white would mean ter me! Lawd! Lawd!" he says, his voice soft-spoken, but more eager than ever as he went on, and pleading something pitiful to hear, "des think of all de Caucasian blood in me! Gawd knows de nights er my youth I'se laid awake twell de dawn come red in de Eas' a-cryin' out ter Him only fo' ter be white! DES TER BE WHITE! Don' min' dem black, black niggers dar--don' think er DEM--dey ain't wuth nothin' nor fitten fo' no fate but what dey got-- But me! What's done kep' me from gwine ter de top but dat one thing: _I_ WASN'T WHITE! Hit air too late now--too late fo' dem ambitions I done trifle with an' shove behin' me--hit's too late fo' dat! But ef I was des ter git one li'l year o' hit--ONE LI'L YEAR O' BEIN' WHITE!--befo' I died--" And he went on like that, shaking and stuttering there in the road, like a fit had struck him, crazy as
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   113   114   115   116   117   118   119   120   121   122   123   124   125   126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135   136   137  
138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   149   150   151   152   153   154   155   156   157   158   159   160   161   162   >>   >|  



Top keywords:

doctor

 

niggers

 

bishop

 

miracle

 

thousands

 

sudden

 

comperhen

 

spoken


shaking
 

nothin

 

stuttering

 

struck

 
pleading
 
fitten
 

Caucasian

 

ambitions


pitiful

 

trifle

 

nights

 

fiddles

 
Doctor
 

Whether

 

beating

 
preaching

change

 

colour

 

monger

 

waiting

 

idiotic

 

followers

 

stirred

 

expected


bottles

 
surface
 

bulging

 
craftiness
 

cunningness

 
working
 
streaks
 

attachment


boosts
 

Messiah

 
knowed