Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1897-02-18


Been buying yourself rich?"
There it was again, George Washing
tons birthday; she heard it every
where. The very banks would he
closed. she heard somebody say; and
the post Office would be open but an
hour all day. Clearly it was George
Washington's birthday.
To be perfectly sure about it, how
ever, she determined to step around to
"Marse Toms Office" and ask about it.
Marse Tom was once her husbands old
master, and he would be pretty sure to
tell her the truth.
"Marse Tom," said she, thrusting her
head in a moment at the door, what am
de incasion OBJ all de Indictment in de
town ter-morrer?"
ut is George Washington's birthday,
Aunt June. Come in and get warm"
| said the master, without looking up
from the paper he was busily prepar-
ing for the court that would convene
the next week. But Aunt June was
gone; she went straight back to the
| grocery.
EFF dey's all detarmint ter hab il so.
l reckon it am got ter be So" she de-
clared; and she bought back a pound of
the butter she had sold, two pounds of
cheese, and a dozen sticks of striped
peppermint candy.
EFF ev'ybody else ain gwine be-
grudge de chile de celebrating, recliin
sholy his own nanny ain gwine do
dat" she said. Use gwine straight
home and kill him"
She felt relieved in crossing the
| bridge to find the workman gone.
II don want hear no more of that Mig
gers mouf," said she. Lack ez not
he'll be thinking don know de bufday
oh my own chillen." ...f
| She made several convenient stops on
the way home, however, and at each
stop explained why she was imposing
so upon the mule.
"Dey's lot of things in de cart, to be
sho," said she. But hit am George
Washin'ton's bufday."
And for the life of her she couldn't
help saying it just as the people in town
had said it; as something that every
body ought to know. Whether these
knew or not she was not able to divine.
since the same reply met her at each
| repetition of the announcement: "Yes-
| sum-"
She was planning a great feast; she
| meant to make cake and stuff it with
| raisins. He ain no onery niger, dat
boy amt" said she, as the white mule
| plodded patiently homeward.
1,,,4 4 4
his sudden rise to greatness, though
he very cheerfully washed the pota-
toes, killed and picked the hen,
| and was told that he might beat the
whites for cake the next day.
"a cake fur yo' bufday dinner, son."
his mother told him.
That night when his father came
| home Aunt June asked him If he
couldn't get off from his work next day
and eat dinner at home.
Hitam George Washin'ton's bufday,"
! she explained again in the town tone.
II done been Citing de chile up bit of
| nice victuals."
Uncle Jake scratched his head and
| pondered. "Ole OMAN" said he, after
| n pause, "you's mistookin, honey, bout
| dat. Ter-morrer ain Wash's bufday.
Wash 'uz bawned in de summer time.
DON yer rickerlict dc threshing?"
"Yes, sab, dat l does. But de town
| folks dey ali say ter-morrer 'uz George
| Washin't tons bufday. Dey all wouldn't
hab it no udder way. De very niggers
on de pike say it 'uz George Washin'-
tons bufday. And seeing they wouldn't
hab it no udder way jest stepped round
| ter Marse Toms Office and AK him.
Kase know eff Marse Tom say it so, it
am so. So put my head in de do and
| says /: 'Marse Tom, what's ter do ter
morrer?' or something mighty lack
| dat. And says he: Hit am George
| Washin'to bufday.' Den come
long and kilt hin; kase / know it
mus be so den, aldo 1 reckelick it ain
| So"
Uncle Jake tilted his chair back and
broke into a laugh. "Ole 'oman," said
he, you're all wrong bout dat. Dey
wuz talking 'boutannuderG George Wash
| in'ton. l heered all bout dat long go.
Dey wan meaning we-alls' po' little
| Wash here"
Aunt June's eyes flashed for min
ute; only a minute, however, and she
| ducked her head to laugh.
81 done kilt him." said she, land it's
got ter be eat. George Washin'ton am
gwine hab dat bufday. He been
mighty handy helping bout de baby
and all, and he kin hab two bufdays
dis year well ez not. Dey ain no sech
greet Difference 'twix the twenty-secken
O. Feb'rery an de twenty-ninth of July,
ez kin see. Seed de reesuns, son, fur
de cake; hits fur yer bufday dinner ter
morrer."-Will Allen Dromgoole, in
Youths Companion.
THE SAME CASE, WITH A DIFFER