Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1886-10-28
Poor Deformed GOOst.
He Was Wicked, But He Saw
eel "Litty Mas

No soup y exclaimed my mother.
The table was spread for one of those
enormous dinners in which Southern
households eXulted before the war ; tnt
guests were arriving, and my mother
was in her chamber pinning some fresh
roses in her bosom, when Amt Sileny,
the fat cook, waddled in with this AZ
palling announcement.
what has become of the soup p
DE bes' gumbo dat I make des year
In de pot. He'd tree days',work wild ii
Dat Goost-jes' creep in, lif' de pot to
he's head, m drunk lot Oh it an spill
de rest =
oh, Goost = said my mother, calm.
ly. Can't you give us any other soup,
Aunt Sileny p
Dom want ter glib strange gemmen
hasty scrambles. Eff had 6at niggah
- and Aunt Sileny grumbled hel
way back 20 the kitchen.
My mother went on pinning her ros-
es, which were not so soft pink as
her pretty cheeks, and stood close al
her side admlring her, when the twins
burst in, their Scotch kits and plaid
sashes covered with mud, followed by
Tilda, the nurse.
Mother, Goost rolled me in The
chicken yard 'cause he said we'd tel
he'd been suckin' eggs y
'Please, Miss Emmy, he'd dem al
ready began Tilda, 'foh de company.
My mother put her hands to her
ears.
Leave the room, every one of you
Change their clothes, Tilda. Was ever
woman tormented ? That boy j:
possessed with - What is the matter
with you, William p turning to meet
my father who stood in the doorway
He was tall. grave man, of whom
his children stood greatly in awe. But
my mother, little, vivaciuus, animated,
with all the enthusiasm of the French
blood that was in her veins, was the
idol of the house. My father held up
his new hat, but yesterday a glossy
beaver, but now battered and muddy.
i fiud that this was worn last night
by that boy Augustus, and'-
'Goost again y My mother threw
herself into her easy. chair in an atti.
tude Of resignation. oh, go on, Will
liam Don't mind me. There seems
to be bailstorm of miseries setting
iE. My umbrella is up y
'Issdore, do he rational. This negro
must be punished or sent away
Punished Why, there is not day
that he is not cuffed and beaten about
the kitchen and stables COachman,
hostler, walters. all take their turn at
him. Tie blows fall upon him as if he
had an alligator's hide. Sent away !!
Where I? Who would take him as a
gift ? For mercy's sake, take that bat
out of the room and don't mention
Goost's name to me again y
was standing by the window. and
remember that looked at my mother
in her soft, shimmering silk, pearls a.
bout her breast, and then down into
the garden, where G COST, the deformed
negro stable boy, squatted lazily in the
sun, and thought what shame it was
that she should ever have to see OF
think of such fellow. AS to any idea
that he was human being and bound
to us by any tie, it never Impressed
me, nor, l am sure, her. My father,
DR.. Champney, was physician in a
large town on the border of one of the
slave holding States. AS only the riv-
er separated us from the State of Ohio,
any shrewd slave who wanted to be
free had but to cross the stream in a
bsteau to escape. Hence, few remain
ed but those who were contented with
their lot. The latter generally were
old house servants, 'uncles' and 'mau-
mers,' who were looked upon as part
Of the family, and so treated.
Among our share was this boy Goost,
a deformed and seemingly worthless
negro. He stole, he drank, he seldom
by any chance spoke the tru tn.
'Champney's Goost' was at the bottom
of half the mischief in town. He
would disappear for days aud creep back
a mass of rags and mud, to beg for
some new clothes and to present him.
self for his rations. There was, too. a
vindictiye malice in his tricks, which
showed that in his dull, ignorant soul
there was a bitter hatred Of the whole
family. But nothing would induce
him to go to Ohio, or to be free. He
evidently was of the opinion that the
world, or the Champneys, owed him a
living.
While was looking out Of the win
dow into the garden. Aunt Sileny and
Tilda both took time from their labors
to go out and berate Goost, TO which
Tilda added some vicious blows on
the ear. She might as we'll have beat