oot inter it? Ole
Johnson war mighty han'some, but when dat war said all war said. She
run'd off an' got married, but wen she got down she war too spunkey to
axe her pa for anything. Wen you war wid her, yer know she only took big
bugs. But wen de war com'd 'roun' it tore her all ter pieces, an' now
she's as pore as Job's turkey. I feel's right sorry fer her. Well,
Robby, things is turned 'roun' mighty quare. Ole Mistus war up den, an'
I war down; now, she's down, an' I'se up. But I pities her, 'cause she
warn't so bad arter all. De wuss thing she eber did war ta sell your
mudder, an' she wouldn't hab done dat but she snatched de whip out ob
her han' an gib her a lickin'. Now I belieb in my heart she war 'fraid
ob your mudder arter dat. But we women had ter keep 'em from whippin'
us, er dey'd all de time been libin' on our bones. She had no man ter
whip us 'cept dat ole drunken husband ob hern, an' he war allers too
drunk ter whip hisself. He jis' wandered off, an' I reckon he died in
somebody's pore-house. He warn't no 'count nohow you fix it. Weneber I
goes to town I carries her some garden sass, er a little milk an'
butter. An' she's mighty glad ter git it. I ain't got nothin' agin her.
She neber struck me a lick in her life, an' I belieb in praising de
bridge dat carries me ober. Dem Yankees set me free, an' I thinks a
powerful heap ob dem. But it does rile me ter see dese mean white men
comin' down yere an' settin' up dere grog-shops, tryin' to fedder dere
nests sellin' licker to pore culled people. Deys de bery kine ob men dat
used ter keep dorgs to ketch de runaways. I'd be chokin' fer a drink
'fore I'd eber spen' a cent wid dem, a spreadin' dere traps to git de
black folks' money. You jis' go down town 'fore sun up to-morrer
mornin' an' you see ef dey don't hab dem bars open to sell dere drams to
dem hard workin' culled people 'fore dey goes ter work. I thinks some
niggers is mighty big fools."

"Oh, Aunt Linda, don't run down your race. Leave that for the white
people."

"I ain't runnin' down my people. But a fool's a fool, wether he's white
or black. An' I think de nigger who will spen' his hard-earned money in
dese yere new grog-shops is de biggest kine ob a fool, an' I sticks ter
dat. You know we didn't hab all dese low places in slave times. An' what
is dey fer, but to get the people's money. An' its a shame how dey do
sling de licker 'bout 'lection times."

"But don't the temperance people want the colo