Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1872-08-31

The way in which evil is sometimes suggested
to the immature minds of children by accusing
them on speculation OF some fancied wrong
doing, the manner in which they are thus shown
the practicabity OF acts which they would
otherwise suppose impossible for them to
accomplish, has seldom been better illustrated
than in story, which still circulates in Virgin
ia, concerning negro boy (which his name it
was" Bill. He was owned by an eccentric old
lady, whose suspicious temper made life bur
den to herself and every one around her. One
day she sent Bill down into the cellar to draw
cider for dinner. The cellar contained also
some fresh better, and, as the boy failed to
reappear within reasonable time she began to
fear for its safety. Going to the head of the
stairway she called TO him:
BILL, what are you doing down there? |
know you are stealing that butter"
Claw, miSsis," replied the boy, chow could
steal de butter? Whar is got to put it?"
"Why, you could hide it in your shirt BOSOM"
she incautiously answered.
"Bless your heart, Massa john" said the
grinning negro, as he atterward told the story
to my grandfather, 81 never wanted for butter
from that dayp
The real, though perhaps unconscious, creed
of a vast number of persons, is well expressed
in the advice gwen by an old black man to
wild young Virginian:
"Massa Richard" said this hoary evil-doer,
solemnly lifting up his hand to emphasize his
a
on-but," he added, suddenly breaking out into
enthusiasm and broad grin, ''if there amt no
hereafter, carry on powerful"
am sorry to say that the young gentleman
in question adopted the latter half of his sable
mentors instruction with a readiness with
which advice is seldom received, or, at least,
acted upon.
Talking of future existence recalls the opin-
ion pronounced upon his own prospects and
those OF his race by an elderly mulatto man.
the dnlng-room servant in a house on the banks
of the RappahannOck He was Overw helmingly
genteel; and to see him solemnly retreat to his
buffers pantry before allowing himself the
luxury of smile or a cough, made one quite
ashamed to indulge in such demonstrations
He scarcely ever spoke; but when he did so, it
was to express some decided conviction as to
the inevitable destiny of his race in this world
and the next
''lt's 10 use to tell me-" he would Jerk out in
short sentences, chat white folks and niggas are
going to the same place in heaven. Sure as yuz
are born, there'l be quarter built off for us to
live in; why, they'll set us to pushing along the
clouds if they can't find anything else"
Before the war there lived on a plantation
near Lynchburg an old colored preacher, whose
sermons were truly remarkable. One day his
master, who happened to be passing, paused to
listen to him as he discoursed to his fellow SER
wants. His subject was hell and its horrors;
which he described in terrible terms, declaring
that thefe was whipping and whaling and
snatching out of teeth" He then proceeded
with touch of Dantesque vigor, to tell his
hearers that hell was a region of fearful cold,
where ice and snow covered all things, and
where freezing was the favorite punishment
'Why, Cesar" said the master the next time
they met, curious to learn why the preacher diff
ferel so strongly from the usually accepted
theory of the internal regions; ''what makes
you tell my servants that hell is a cold place 2"
Law, massa, don't dare to tell them people
nothing elsel Why, if was to say that hell
was warm, some of them old rheumatic nggers
would be wanting TO start down thar the very
first lrostP'-Mrs. Seemuller, in Old and Ne,0.