Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1882-11-09
CAHLINE'S PA.

CAHLINE's PA.
ssDat owdacious steah! 'Clar to de
goodness mussv it wars me out. Dis
yer de fo'ty-milliumf time l dun druv
him outen de cotton dis mawnin. Wot
TO- Mos Jawge low SIGH critters bout
de plantation?'
"Wot fo' he low SIGH lazy nigga as
you is bout de plantation? Tell me
dat, yo' Ebenezer, yo'? Cl'ar dis min
nit an drub out dat steah. Dom you
see him attempting in de millium patch 2
Who lef' dem bahs down? Whar dat
clo'es paddle? Trabble now, eff yo'
dom want fer ter feel it roun' yer sassy
brack jaws! Dom talk ter me! Dom
tell me yo' amt a-saying muffin! Dom
| hear yo' a-sayin' yo' nuvver lef' dem
bahs down? Git dat regenrit steah
outen o dem milliums, an den come
heah. Kase der's gwine to be settle
aae'st, an yo' is agwine fer ter git wot
yo' 'sarbs."
Aunt Docia stood in the door of her
cabin, and glared savagely at Ebenezer,
who glumly shuffled off to the melon
patch on the hither side of the great
cotton field, where an erratic steer was
aimlessly promenading, to the serious
detriment of the growing melons.
"'Pears like chillens gifts mo- and
mo- trifiin', lazy, and regenrit de longer
dey libs," Aunt Docia muttered, as she
seized the clo'es paddle, and sailed out
to meet the luckless Ebenezer, who,
after driving the steer from among the
melon vines, had started back to the
cabin without replacing the bars that
| L IL \
| garden and the cotton field.
Thwack, thwack, came the singing
paddle about Ebenezer's lightly clad
lower extremities, and loud rose the
basket-meetin' tones of Aunt Docia, as
she vigorously exhorted the while she
belabored the boy, who whined dismal
ly in a mournful minor key as the blows
fell thick and fast. 81 heerd wot yo'
sassed back, yo' regenrit riflebate! 1
heerd, ah!" shouted Aunt Docia, inton-
ing her sentences like trained ecclesi-
astic. "Yo' t'ink Aunt Docia got no
yers, ali? An blin' OBJ bofe eyes, ali?
Yo' specs she need fer ter tar rail off
duz yer? An yo' low yo' kin blame off
all yo' no count, lazy, triflin' meanness
onter Cahline, an sabe yo' black nigga
hide, duz yo'? Cahline, Ell? Whack.
Calsline! Whack, whack. Blame it
Cahline dun lef' de bars down, Ell?
TWhack.] Cahline dun tuhn de steah
inter de cotton, ehp [Whack. Cahline
dun put yo' up ter tellin' dat big lie bout
mllium times yo' dun druv de steah out?
Wot yo' know bout millium times? Wot
TO- yo' KANT speak de bressid troof, Ell?
II I,,,, lo@
out, sab? Say de troof, sab. TWhack,
whack, whack. ! Obi yo' jes dribe him
out jes one time, ehP Aha! Now wot
yo' s'pose yo' 'sarbs bout dem millium
lies yo' dun tole? Yo' dom know? Yaas
yo' duz know, sab. Yo' knows yo'
'sarbs de wustest cuttin' up yo' eber got
in de whole OBJ yo' mawtil life. Dat wot
yo' know. Stan'in' up dab, an a-tellin'
whole millium lies bout one POI steah,
an a-blamin' de las one onter yo' POI
leetle seester! Yo' regenrit, owdacious,
good-forsaken-"
How much more extended Aunt Do
cia's line of epithets might have become
may not appear, for just at this moment
Cahline herself rushed between Ebene-
ger and the incensed wielder of the clo'es
paddle.
'sLaws, mammy!" screamed the child,
a slender, pretty mulatto girl about
twelve years of age, s.don't pay on dat
away. De ole steah neber tromped on
no millium; an sho huff huff dem bans
down, kase pappy say he gwine fer ter
come pay yo' visit. Dat ar Ebenezer
amt no ways 'sarbin' sech paddlin'."
sDell law!" exclaimed Aunt Docia,
her fury all gone, as she turned and
viewed Cahline admiringly. "Wot
chile yo' is! Yo's de fo'gibbenist maw-
til! After all dem millium lies, yo'
STAINS dar like cl'ar angel an begs TO-
yo' po' denighted brudder wot amt got
de sense fer ter tank yo' TO- yo' inter-
cedin'. Go long, yo'. Go long,
Ebenezer, and tank yo' POI leetle sister
dat yo' amt got de onmussiful lammin'
yo' hab richly 'sarbed.''
And Ebenezer, still dismally whining,
smarting all over from the blows of the
relentless paddle, limped away to bewail
his hapless lot, and to wish for the hun.
dredth time that he had been born, as
Cahline was, the child of the spruce |
young quadroon boy to whom, while he |
was vet a wee toddler, his nanny had |
been married with great display, the i
magnificence of which yet fingered in |
his memory as the one redeeming fea- |
ture of the alliance. For from the day |
of the eventful wedding up to date poor
Ebenezer's recollections of maternal |
coddlings were none, while his memo
ries of paddlings, cuttings, lammings
and cuttings up were manifold and
mournful.
Aunt Docia's overweening admiration
of her present Observation-Disclosures
pa," as she delighted to STYLE him-was
only equalled by her cordial detestation
of her first husband, 'sdat ar brack mig
ga Abram." 1
Perhaps she loved Ebenezer, her only
child when Abram was carried off with |
n fit of cramp collie; but if she did, she