Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1893-06-09
HULDAH'S BABY.

IL u Ida IL . Dh ID L.
Again the baby moaned, a low,
faint moan, and tossed it's emaciated
little brown arms above the head
that rolled so restlessly on the
coarse, hard pillow; again the mother
bent over it, and pressed her black
lips to its burning brow; again that
look of patient, hopeless grief settled
on her face; again she whispered:
Poor little baby Nanny don know
what de matter wild you. She dom
know what ter do for you. She wish
yer could run bout agin, ef you wuz
lots ob trouble an always henderin
of her when she gwine bout her
wuck." A figure darkened the open
doorway, and the mother looked up
to see Club-footed Sal, a half-grown
negro girl, holding in her hand
bunch of hoarhound and some Of the
white velvety leaves of the mullen
"Hyar some verbs / fotch you.
You kin meek tee outen 'em, an eff
you put saffron in hit-here's some /
pick up hind dc sheep in de pahsturs
hit meek mighty sarchin tea, an
meek dc chile sweat, an drive de
misery outon her haid. ef she amt
got dc cunjcr on her. Twill dat i
b'loeve de chile got de cunier on her,
dough. kase dat Nellie mighty bad
oman, an she amt got 40 use for
you, dough she do like sine do. She
like your old man, dough, an dat
huccOmc she 'spise you, an she
'spise dc baby. Dat huccome she
cunjer dat baby, an make hit waste
way like a piece oh soap on washin'
day. Say, Huldah, doan you b'leeve
dc chile got de cunjer on her?"
"You's II ign'ant critter, Sal, an
dat huccome you b'leeve in dc cunjer
] doan' b'leeve in no sech foolishness;
you amt nuva bin oil dis yer black
land plantation sence you wuz born,
an you amt got no eddication, an
you doan know muffin more dan de
boasts in de field, you don't You
hush up, gal; / bin to school, an l
bin to dc city; bin down to Mobile,
an done seed de sights an got some
sense. Dat huccome l know dere amt
no sense in dc cunjer. Dis yer chile
got de tivoy fever. Dat what dc mat
ter wild her De doctor done bin see
her, but l amt gin de chile what he
say gin her, kaze | amt got no
money to cyarry to drug store arter
de physic. ! ain tell dat doctor !
ain gin de physic, kaze, eff l do, he
git mad like he did wild Sis Cyarlinc,
an say, How de devil you 'spect me
to cure you""
{ "Law, Huldah, is dat so? Fl she
got de tivoy fever, better gin her
nanny tea; dat de 'scription fur dc
tivoy. Dat what nanny do when
we alls has dc tivoy."
"Hersh your mouf, Sal l gwine
battle dis yer chile in pot-liquor an
tie poke-root poultice roun' her ankle,
an den gwine climb up on jice an
break down dat ole dirt-dauber's nest
an teck tN o dem red an black big.
belly spiders outen hit an gin dem
to do chile. Poor little baby!
Nanny most wish you wuz dead. IF
angels had you dey'd know how to
teck cyar oh you, dey would. Angels
is mighty KNOWN critters, dey is
Here. Sal, you rock de baby while |
punch down dc dirt-dauber nest l
gwine ter 'nipulate dis nest, l tell
you, gal"
! "Huccome dem spiders doan die
when dey all shot up in dirt-daubcr
house, Huldah?"
"Heish, gal, amt you got no sense?
How you 'spect 'em ter die tell dere
time come. Huccome you amt die,
an done had de club-foot all de time?
Spider doan die tell dere time come
no more den folks does. IF you had
a bin to Mobile like is you'd had
some sense. I tell you, gal, l stay
down dere one time an cook fur
Yankee CONAN whar got furnace
whar she build up fire in, an great
big old pipes runnin' all over &c
house, an dat one fire hit jess
natchully het up de whole house
Soon as dat fire gin to terminate,
an dat furnace gin to 'nipulate, dat
house git so hot pear like ter me
twuz August, an | was pullin' fodder
l bin seed de sights, Sal; done had
de vantage Of schooiin'; / went to
school two weeks when was a gal
like you, jess fore l went to Mobile,
but you're a poor little ign'ant crit
ter, dough you's good chile to fetch
me dat mullen. Hit mighty good fur
de pneumony; but dis yer baby she
amt got de pneumony, she got do
tivoy. Angels would know how to
teck cyar OF my baby eff dey had her.
an dey got nice wing just sot for
fannin' chile whar got de tivoy; dat
dey is"
Again the low moan came from the
parched lips of the little sufferer;
again the mother rained kisses upon
the small brown face; again she lifted
the child from its cradle, pressed it
to her breast and walked up and
down the small, rude room which she
and baby called home. "Doan moan
so, little gal; pear like hit sorter
tears me all to pieces to hear dem
little means. Dey set me ter study
in bout angels oil de time, till hit