The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1897-12-15
HOW GEORGE JOHNSON WON.

! HOW GEORGE JOHNSON WON,
Other men had courted Melinda
Jones, courted her assiduously. but with
out success. They had been men of
parts, too; men who had money, men
who had bucked the tiger successfully,
or ridden a horse to winning finish
but all their wooing had been in vain.
| Melinda Jones was hard-hearted, OBJ
durate, cruel flirt.
Against her obstinacy yellow jockey
had no more power than a black trout.
All were her victims.
Melinda Jones was the brownskin-
ned Cleopatra of the Tenderloin. No
Antony had yet appeared.
Then Mistah George johnson came
ON the scene.
George Johnson was from Kentucky,
and he was black and ugly, but he had
cut his eye-teeth. He was standing in
front of Madison's barber shop the day
be first saw Melinda. She passed in
all her glory, hardly casting glaee at
the crowd Of humble admirers who fol-
lowed her with their eyes.
Use gwine to make dat black gal
mine, hummed Mr.. Johnson, and the
crowd greeted his presumption with a
guffaw.
Why don't you go in an win hub,
Gawge, you say you're sich good man
an they amt been nobody wahm
enough for huh yet?
/ win huh. 1 win huh ifI sets my
head to it.
Oomph, niggah! what you 'spose
Melinda Jones wants VIII you less n she
put red suit on you an led you around
by string?
Keep on ye' stringin', oil man, but I
tell you Mistah Gawge Johnson win
dat gal if he puts him mind down to it,
an you'll all be goin' aroun' hyeah in
mou'nin'. l take my banjo an play
in front o. huh house an she'll jump
out o. the winder TO me.
Or, l don't know; you needn't think
that you're the sun, just because yo'
face is shinin'.
Mistah George johnson took out a
red silk pocket handkerchief and SOW
ly wiped the perspiration from his shiny
black face. OATS all right, he said.
OATS all right, jolly to yo' hearts con-
tent now, fur you'll be cryin' after
while.
IrH be at yo' fun'al then.
That night there was long confer
enee between Mr.. Johnson and his
friend, Billy Black. Will was n popu-
lar boy. Everybody liked him, even
Melinda Jones, supposedly because he
didh't try to court. Well, the two
talked long together, and later on the
dulcet strains of banjo were heard
under the eharmer's window, and Mr..
johnson was singing tender strain.
Melinda promptly blew out her light.
This did not seem ike encouragement,
but the serenader went away chuck
ling to himself: OATS a good start, sho'.
Billy Blacks form was on the bellies
sofa next evening. Law, Miss Lindy,
you don't mean TO tell me that you
blowed yo' light ont while he was sing
in
OF eose / did. 1 didn't want that
niggah singin' under my window. 1
don't know nothin' bout him.
Don't know nothin' bout him?
whew! whistled Billy; don't you tell
nobody else that-thev'd set yo' down
as jest plum ign'ant, that's what they
would.
Why, who is he? He amt 50 many,
I guess.
Amt 50 many. Well, I reckon he's
purity good few; yo' dom know who
you'se a-foolin' with.
1 never seen him before.
No, course you never; that's because
he don't hang out around no sich parts
o. the town as this very much. He
lives up among Gods people. The
lady began TO show an accession of in
terest in the subject and her informant
went on: Why, that's Mr.. Composer
Johnson; you'd ought to heard tell of
him.
No, / amt never heard his name
What did he ever compose, I'd like to
know?
Why, barrels o. songs; makes 'em up
right out Of his own he'd, po'try an all
You jest say to him: Gawge, sing US a
'riginal song; he'll jest set there an
think a minute, an then he'll pick up
that OF banjoo of his an the way he'll
sing to you will be a caution-an'
somep'n new, too. He can make any
song you want him to. Why, that
mans the greatest musical gennius in
New York, only they're holdin' him
back-on account o. his coIah.
/ amt never heard none of his songs
You ain'f? Well, you ought to be
around to the club some night when
they're givin' smoker
oughn't to be nowhere of the kind
Mistah Billy Black
Well, mean there is where you'd
get a chance to hear 'em-
/ guess | can get em in shee. music,
can't L.
Billy was stunned for moment, bu;
he rose to the occasion: Nav, he said,
you can't git 'em in sheet music.
ont suppose Gawge is goin' to put