Waterbury evening Democrat., 1890-11-19
AT THE COTTON GIN.
"reminiscences of Olden Times in
the South.

Not ginmill-
But an old fashioned plantation gin,
with ponderous wooden running gear
and long levers, and two mules to pull
the lever around.
Grandpa had one of those kind.
A regular old growler. l moan that
it as located about mile back in the
plan tation, and yet you could hear the
squeaking and groaning of the wooden
cogs easily from the Clubhouse to the res
ldence.
Pete and Beck were the gin mules,
and two lazier descendants of the wild
ass of Sahara never stemmed fodder than
they.
was ever fated child, doomed to
serve as q martyr in many q cause in
which had neither reward nor the hope
thereof.
One of my pleasant duties, along
about this time of the year, was to drive
these blasted mules when the gin was
running.
And just as sure as 1 would steal of
to turn little quiet summerset on the
cotton seed pile Pete and Beck would
drop into poke, and then the man at
the gin, which was usually Pepper Joe,
would bawl down through the hole
in the floor where the gin band came
through:
Drive on them mules!"
Pepper Joe suffered so bad that it
generally came:
"W-w-w'y d-d-don't you d-d-drive DID,
dem"
And by the time he got it out would
give them such whack that they would
have the old gin going, 'Z-z-z-zoom," as
if 1T were suffering back at him, and
then could hear him yell to the basket
boys upstairs:
"H-h-hooray w-w-wid d-d-dat c-c-cot-
ton, y-y-yo' b-b-blacll r-r-rascalsl"
For five or ten minutes you never saw
cotton fly so. The boys would rush
back and forth with the baskets, Pepper
Joe would crowd the gin, the seed would
patter down like a rain-storm, and all
would be lovely.
Then there would be lull, and Pete
and Beck would drop their heads, bow
| their backs, and take it easy.
Thus it would go on all day long, and
the monotony was almost unbearable.
| If grandpa CHANGED Co come around
there was a change in the spirit of our
dreams, and would keep my seat on the
lever and persuade those mules with a
six-foot hickory just as long as he was
in sight or hearing
| But, oh, how weary my little arms
would get, and my short legs would be-
come cramped perched up there, riding
around and around and around hour after
hour with that tempting cotton seed pile
before my eyes.
think it would help my liver to get
out and turn few summersets on q cot
ton seed pile even now, as old and stiff
in the joints as am.
At last an inventive fit struck me.
All boys are inventors, first or last, you
know.
figured out a scheme by which I
could keep those mules going without
having to- sit there on that lever.
can't explain it we'll now, it has been so
long.
Uncle Nose always alluded to it as
"Dat fool contraption wot mos sot de gin
'ouse er1re an cos marster fo'ty bale er
cotton"
Pepper Joe wouldn't talk about it, be-
cause when he got mad he suffered
worse than ever, and he never thought
of it without getting furious.
Anyhow it was a double-rigged, flap
ping arrangement, full of sharp nails,
geared on to the belt wheel, so that as
the wheel turned over it brought the
f1appers down on Pete and Beck with
sufficient force to remind them of their
neglected duties.
We made test of it on Sunday, the
little negroes pushing the levers around
to see If it would work. 1t looked to be
1 perfectly satisfactory. 1 had a long
cord by jerking which released the
thing and set it going. This cord
reached to the cotton seed pile.
After the test 1 sat down and had {
good, hearty laugh over the fun 1 was
going to have out of the thing.
Monday morning came, and you know
how it always is on plantation early
Monday morning. Everybody and ever!
thing else seems to get the Old Nick in it
remember that very morning, as
walked by the crib door, the old graz
gander poked his head out from unde
the house and gave me such a nip OF
; the calf of the leg that jumped about
six feet and came down in q mudhole.
"Darnation take the dad-burned old