Ashtabula telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1874-1880, 1874-12-19
A TRUE STORY-REPEATED WORD
FOR WORD AS l HEARD 1T.
BY MARK TWAIN.

| ~ " - SUMMIT lllllC anu w IL.
We were sitting on the porch of the
farm house, on the summit of the
hill, and "Aunt Rachel" was sitting
respectfully below our level, on the
steps-for she was our servant, and
colored She was of mighty frame
and stature; she was sixty years old,
but her eyes were undimmed and
her strength unabated. She was a
cheerful, hearty soul, and it was no
more trouble for her to laugh than it
was for a bird to sing. She was I'M
der fire, now, as usual when the day
was done. That is to say, she was
being chaffed without mercy, and
was enjoying it. She would let off
peal after peal of laughter, and then
sit with her face IN her hands and
shake with throes of enjoyment
which she could no longer get
breath enough to express. At such
a moment as this a thought occurred
TO me, and said:
"Aunt Rachel, how is it that you
have lived sixty years and never had
any trnuble?e'
She stopped quaking. She paused,
and there was a moment Of silence
She turned her face over her shoul-
der toward me, and said, without
even a smile in her voice:
"Misto c., is you in 'arnest?"
1t surprised me a good deal; and
it sobered my manner and my speech,
too. 1 said:
"Why, thought-that is, meant
why, you can't have had any trou-
BILE. | never heard you sigh, and
never seen your eye when there
wasn't laugh in it.
She faced fairly around now, and
was full of earnestnesS.
elias | had any trouble? Misto
c., Ps 'gwine to tell you, den l
leave it to you. was born down
'mongst de slavcs-I knows all bout
slavery, 'case | been one of 'em my
own se'f Well, sab, my ole man
dat's my husban'-he was lovin' and
kind to me, jlst as kind as you is to
yo' own wife. And we had chil'en,
and we loved dem chil7en jist the
same as you loves yo' chil'en. Dey
was black, but de Lord can't make
no chil'en so black but what dey
mother loves 'em and wouldn't give
'em up, no, not for anything dat's in
dis whole world.
"Well, sab, l was raised IN ole Fo'-
girny, but my mother was raised in
Maryland; an my soul, she was tur-
rible when she'd git started! My
lam! but she'd make de fur fly Wen
she'd git into dem tantrums, she al
wavs had one word dat she said.
She'd straighten herself up an put
her fists in her hips an say, 81 want
you to understan' dat l want bawn
in de mash to foop by trash! l is one
O. de ole blue hens chickens, | isl"
Case you see, dat's what folks dat's
bawn in Maryland calls deyselves,
an dey's proud of it. Well, dat was
her word. / don't ever forgit it, be-
case she said it one day, when my
little Henry tore his wrist awful, an
most busted his head, right up at de
top of his forehead, an de niggers
didn' fly aroun' fas' enough to tend
to him. An when dey talk back at
her, she up an says, Look a-heahp
she says, 4 want you niggers to un-
derstan' dat l want bawn in de
mash to be fool by trash! rs one O.
de ole blue hens chicken, isI' An
den she clar' dat kitchen an band
age up de chile herself. So l says
dat word, too, when rs riled.
We'll, by-em-by my ole mistis say
she's broke, an she's got to sell all
de niggers on de place. An when |
heah dat dey gwyne to sell us all off
at oction in Ricbmon', oh, de good
graciousl 1 know what dat mean!'
Aunt Rachel had gradually risen,
while she warmed to her subject,
and now she lowered above us, black
against the stars.
"Dey put chains on us, an put US
on STAN as high as dis porch
twenty feet high-an' all the people
stood aroun'-crowds an crowds.
An dey'ed come up dar an look at
us all round, and squeeze our arm,
an make us git up an walk, an
den say, Dis one too ole,' or, dis
one too lame or dis one don't
mount to much An dey sole my
ole man an took him away, an dey
begin to sell my ehil'en an take dem
away an begin to cry; an de
man say, 'Shet up yo' dam olu6ber-
in, an hit me on de mOdf wld his
han. An when de las one was gone
but my little Henry, l grab MN
clost up to my breas' So an, l rls up
an says, You sbAnt take hlm away,
| l saws, Il kill de man dat tetches
bimp I saws But my little Henry
wbisper on' say, & gwyine to run
owaI an; den l work an buy yo'
froaaom.' Oh, bless de chile, he al
ways SO good! But dey got him
dew I got him, de men did; but took
an; tear de clo'es mos off of 'em, au'
beat 'em over the head wild my
chain; an dey give it to me, too,
but / didn't mine dat.
Well, dar was my ole man gone,
an all my chiPen, all my seven chill
'en-an' six of 'em haint set eyes
on agin to dis day, an dat's twenty
two years ago las Easter. De man
/ dot bOuoht ma hSIono in Nawharr