Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1894-03-31
R0X|E'S SWEET BOM-BYE,
BY MRS. A. W. BISSELL,

We used to wonder where or how Roxie
first came into existence She herself said
she had been a woman ever since she began
to live, and that was all we knew of her
past until something happened.
we were trio of school girls, and Roxie,
the old black washerwoman, who had left
her adopted town, a few miles away, and
come to the springs to make her fortune
by doing laundry work for Miss Faucher's
school.
Roxie was not liked by people OF her own
race at the springs, who called her ''bigity,' -
ana she gloried in their estimate Of her
PRIDE doing all she could to merit it by
switching and strutting and holding a high
hsau When they were about, calling them
ugly as homade sin and po' Buckra mig
gers leaving them to infer that she had
belonged to quality" although she never
gratl1led the curiosity of anybody by say
ing so. She made no friends except with
US three, and the other girls wondered what
we saw in the homely, surly old woman to
even tolerate. But Roxie was an interest
ing character to US, and the mystery she
managed to throw about herself had its at
traction.
Roxie had literary aspirations, though she
did not know letter of the alphabet, and
we were ambitious for her. To the Light
house, religious weekly published by a
colored clergyman in her adopted town.
went many gushing illusions, bearing the
name ''RoXie Scales" We wondered why
she persisted in using this instead of RoXie
Friday, her name, and demonstrated with
her, arguing that the articles were too good
to appear under a pseudonym and she not
have the credit; but she was firm.
ol@ OH sub
jects. The one she seemed most concerned
over was written in her house, at her dicta-
ton, entitled "A Day in Tennessee" We
worked industriously, doing our best, while
Roxie criticised right and left. made many
fiourishes of Impotence, and said she didn t
believe we had ever heard of Tennessee in
our lives. She ordered the best sentences cut
out. because they were little exaggerated,
and she was more exacting than was ever
Miss Ross, who examined our essays and
overlooked grammatical errors purposely
made to test her competency.
Now and again RoXie and her huge fiat
iron would make an angry plunge in our
direction, but she always stopped before
getting too near, with the words, in a mod
flied tone, "Chillen, Use s'prised at yo' wis
DOM. She meant our lack of it.
Her house was a mile from the college in
the prettiest, widest spot about the springs;
and on her front a card with the words,
This is my busy day." hung from early
Monday morning until Saturday night.
ON Sundays she would sit at her little
parlor organ and sing Sweet Bom-Bye'' to
an accompaniment iInprovised for the occa-
sion. She never varied her song, but the
accompaniment was as changeable as the
wind.
We three would stand at the window and,
with tears in our eyes, peep in upon the
lonely old woman singing her heart out
and her breath away, her body swaying,
har hao in hnr nd nd Nr,Nlna
q desperate appeal to the God the poor soul
secretly loved to send that bom-bye, that
long-delayed Sweet Bom-Bye
Roxie never laughed or smiled. She had
forgotten how, she said. Her countenance
was the same under all circumstances,
even in her stormiest moods.
Having no children of her own. she had
taken in. one at a time. the homeless
kept them until they were old enough to
earn living. There was one with her at
the springs, a cunning little pickaninny
and to it Miss Shiday' was a wonderful
woman. Roxie never scolded Beck except
for lettering on the way to and from the
post office. Becks instructions had been
to remind the absent-minded postmaster
on saturday, that the Lighthouse should be
forthcoming, and her daily query, ANY
dem Lighthouse papers fer Miss Shiday?'
came to be a by-word with the patrons
one day we went to RoXie's, and were
somewhat surprised to see an old negro
steps, his hat beside him, his face in his
hands, his whole appearance one of hum
BILE misery. His broken sobs fell mournfully
upon the quiet air, and even the hooking
birds that always sang in the crooked old
apple trees around the door had been
frightened into silence We went to the
little wash house, expecting to find Roxie
over the tubs, UP to her elbows in soap
suds, when there she sat on a stool look
ing every bit as miserable as did the old
fellow on the step.
What Is the matterr' we asked.
She took but feeble notice of our pres
ence: and went on wringtng her hands
rocking herself to and fro, and making a
little doleful noise that sounded very like
the cry OF the mourning doves, which kept
up their ceaseless Ooh, ooh-ooh" back of
the college and made US homesick
Aunt Roxie. tell us what troubles Won :"
we said. Cant We help your"
she reached out her hands In a helpless
entreating way and we rushed to her and
knelt about her begging her not to cry
for Roxie crying was as pitiable a sight
as | ever looked upon.
Honey" she whispered, dis ole woman
Is mighty sor'ful. You see dat ole man on
Yes" we answered who ia her-
She did not reply, but continued to moan
anu stare INTO vacancy with wide-open
tear-unmed eyes. Presently she got up.
went 20 the little window and looked at
the old fellow. then came back. murmnrin~
him.
Roxie!' '' on'
She staggered to her feet. then sank down
again. Wv"
OATS somebody whut 1 ulster know :"
she whispered, cautiously, 'bac' in Ten
n see, long go. OATS all, honey"
Perhaps 1t Is not him." we said think
ing she would rather be brought TO believe
herself mistaken.
DIS ole woman's sutton en- sho'" she
returned Amt l done toted dem luks in
my mead all desc yurs? Ever day / saws
Ter mysef, Dere's a gray ha'r, en- dere's
a wrinkle. en- dere's a crooked laig on,
dere's a stopped bac.' en- it's ali SO, Dat's
de same ole niger Use been totin' rom,
IN my head en- studyin' over all desc yurs ;,
she went to the window again, then CAME
back and sat down.
Tell us about it," we said, land perbans
We can help you"
use done done ALL" she announced
you brung him hyur, l know"
Ihat was startling: we wanted an expla-
nation.
Hit wuz dem pieces ter de papers Dat
wuz de reasin 1 wrote EN- SOS he'd see
EN-, en- know / wuZ Twin en- dom well
En- OATS whur Roxie Scales kems in whut
you arglhed so much over. 1 wuz a Scales
en- is a Scaies-Friday is a ole medium
name But 1 didn't reckin he'd KEN track
In down hyur when 1 he'd de paper sont
ter him."
Why don't you go and speak to him.
Roxie? He has come a long distance TO see
you. Go, Roxie"
Il wudn't speak ter him fer dis yeth,"
she cried. Oats a ole married niggerv'
RONie was q rigid mOraliSt hut bore we g