The Sedalia weekly bazoo. [volume] (Sedalia, Mo.) 187?-1904, 1886-11-09
POOR DEFORMED GOOST.
He Was Wicked, But He Saved
"Litty Mas"

The table was spread for one of those
enormous dinners in which Southern
households eXulted before the war; the
guests were arriving. and my mother
was in her chamber pinning some fresh
roses in her bosom, when Aunt Sileny,
the fat cook, waddled in with this ap-
palling announcement.
What has become of the soup?"
..De bes' gumbo dat make des year!
In de pot. He'd tree days work wild it!
Dat Goost-jes' creep in, lif' de pot to
he's head, n drunk lot oh it an spill
de rest!'
"Oh, Goostr' said my mother,
calmly. Cant you give US any other
soup, Aunt Sileny?"
Don want ter glib strange gemmen
hasty scrambles. Eff had dat niggah'
- and Aunt Sileny grumbled her
way back 10 the kitchen.
NV mother went on pinning her
roses, which were not so soft pink as
her pretty cheeks, and | stood close at
her side admiring 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 tell
he'd been suckin' eggsr'
please, Miss Emmy, he'd dem all
ready" began Tilda, ''foh de COM
pany."
My mother put her hands to her
ears,
Leave the room. every one of you!
Change their clothes, Tilda Was
ever woman so tormented? That boy
is possessed with What is the mat
ter with you, William" turning to
meet my father, who stood in the door
way.
He was tall, grave man, of whom
his children stood greatly in awe. But
my mother, little, vivacious, 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.
81 find that this was worn last night
by that boy Augustus, and''-
'Goost again. My mother threw
herself into her easy-chair in an atti-
|. tude of resignation. ''Oh, 90 on, Will
liam! Don't mind me. There seems
10 be hailstOrm of miseries setting in.
: My umbrella is upr'
''Isadore, do be rational. This ne
gro must be punished or sent away"
y Punished! Why, there is not day
that he is not cuffed and beaten about
the kitchen and stablesi Coachman,
ostler, walters, all take their turn at
him. The blows fall upon him as if he
had an alligator's hide. Sent away!
Where? Who would take him as a
gift? For mercy's sake, take that hat
out of the room and don't mention
Goost's name TO me again.
L was standing by the window, and
remember that ] looked at my mother
in her soft, shimmering silk, pearls
about her white throat, and roses on
her breast. and then down into the
garden, where Goost, the deformed
negro stable boy, squatted lazily i'm the
sun, and thought what shame it was
Mat she should ever have to see or
pink of such fellow. AS to any idea
hat he was human being and bound
ITO us by any tie, it never impressed
me, nor, | am sure, her NV father,
DIR. Champney, was a physician in
large town on the border of one of the
|slave-hOlding States. As only the
river separated us from the State of
Ohio, any shrewd slave who wanted to
be free had but to cross the stream i'm
bateau TO escape. Hence, few remained
but those who were contented with
their lot. The latter generally were
|old house-servants, s'uncles" and
''maumers, who were looked upon as
y part of the family, and SO treated.
Among our share was this boy,
'Goost, a deformed and seemingly
worthless negro. He stole, he drank,
be- seldom by any chance spoke the
trdth. "Champney's Goost'' was at
the bottom of half the mischief in town.
He would disappear for days and creep
back mass of rags and mud. 10 beg
for some new clothes and to present
himself for his rations. There was.