Birmingham state herald., 1897-03-06
AM ITO BEAME2
I am the victim of circumstances.

I am the victim of circumstances
 Doubtless there are many others who could say the same without infringing upon the truth, but the realization Of this does not detraet from my wretehedness. Indeed, it rather adds to It. for with my self 1t Is not true that misery loves com pany. I have always had doubts to the accuracy of this statement, and now my own personal and saddening experi- ence has convinced me that if misery really loves company 1t is a case Of mis- placed affection. There are some people who are handicapped in the hurdle race of life not from any fault of their own, whether it be of judgment of intention, nor from any lack of honest effort. They were born unlueky. If any scintillar of blame can attach to them it would have to be sought in the solution of the inter- esting question as to whether we can be held responsible for our parentage. Per hapS no very definite answer can be re- turned to this, although Sterne seems to have considered it debatable when he said of one of his heroes that he was for tunate in the choice of his parents. But, waiving such matters as touehlng too much upon certain grave doctrines of case-hardened theology. l may proceed with my story and leave 1t to my readers to decide whether Fate has not dealt most unkindly with me. Suffice 1t to say that 1 was not consulted as to my 1 ly repudiate any and all responsibility for their conduct and it's effects upon myself Doubtless my folbears would take the same view of their parentage, and so on back to the historic ape who was im- pelled by circumstances alike imperat tive My name is Talcott Thomas Talcott, and l was born of Scotch-Irish parents in Kentucky, some twenty years ago. At that time they were engaged in stock raising. and by industry and thrift had Q a rarO during the social disturbances through which they had but lately come, they had welcomed both the Blue and the Gray and had proflted by this ersatility up against them.
 Owning large estates, and living in an extremely fertile part of Kentucky my parents were accustomed to indulge themselves in the enjoyments of the ta- ble, and my father would also occasional ly partake of the national beverage. This Of itself would not have caused the subse- quent trouble, but most injudiciously he insisted upon the use of hot bread, pork and potatoes. More than this. he would have white bread and eggs and coffee with cream in it, and other deadly pois- ons upon the table, and even suffered the cook to use lard made upon the prem 1ses. In his madness he went even fur ther and gloried in the possession of a black cook, who really q blush to own iD did not know the difference between dex- trose and starch, and could not have dis criminated between ammonia baking powder and epsom salts. Such ignorance would not be tolerated now, of course for the missionaries that came down from Boston, Philadelphia and New York have changed all that But this old cook was of the ancient type. She was even Archaean, if you like, and knew not whether bread should be baked al 400 de- grees, or 4,o00, and the only thing she knew about chicory was that it was some f00t other that xuIi "a t,.o ,1,t ussd for coffee. If she had been asked about dextrine by my sister she would have replied: "Yas ma am; I'm powerful dextrous. kin clean up dis kitchin and get a fust-clasS dinner as quick as any nigger in Kaintucky. Yas ma'am; I'm dextous My old nanny done taught me dat wid bar'l hoopi'
 Law, honey, I'm one of de most dex- tous niggers on de plantation.'
 'Yes, but Aunt Susan, I mean dextrine not dextrous. Dextrine you know, is one of the constituents of the brown crust on well baked bread. and comes from the chemical changes in the flour by cooking You put in so much flour, I've forgotten exactly how much and so much baking powder, and I have that down in my note book, I don't remember how much, but this doesn't make much difference, any way as the chief thing to remcm ber is the brand. and then you put in some water or milk or something of the kind, and piece of cocoanut, mo- not cocoa nut, either, something made from cocoa nut, oh, yes. chocolate, but you must not use eggs unless sold with the makers guarantee, and then you add salts and |, stir 'em up and work the dough and bake the bread in an oven with thermometer and rain gauge, or something of the sort, and you get rid of the acids or they stay in, don't remember which, now; and after awhile you get dextrose, or dex- Urine, or both, or neither, I've forgotten about this, but I know the bread will be perfectly lovely"
 Had these remarks taken place poor old Susan would have concluded that her young mistress had gone crazy, and would have made lot of cat-nip or sage tea instanter, muttering all the while, How In the name of Gawd is yer gwine ter make bread wid fomommyter? Oats de very name of dat trick what de ole marster done hung up in de 'backer barn, and hit tuck fire and burn up. spite of de fommyter and he tuck on and cusst powerful, and he shore is gwine ter lick dat man what sole it to i'm. 'mem- Der de very day when ole marster hang it up, and say now den, I'se got de trick what keeps de backer from gittin' too hot, and when de barn done burn up wid de fomommyten inside, an hit not -doin' nothin' to keep de fire down, ole ma rster he was sight to see. Name O Gawd. chile, don't want no sich round me. I knows when de oven hot nough, an I don't want none O dem things settin' In de stove, or de oven, an settn' dar ana settin', an de bread des fairly burnin' up an hit a maxim no sine. No, chile yer can't fool me-
 It was under the tender black mercies of Aunt Susan that I grew up at my fathers house. eating what was put-be- fore me regularly and what I could steal irregularly. The elegant light mullins, biscuit buck wheat cakes, bread, coffee with cream in it, ohl how my heart bleeds to think of the inhumanity of my parents in giving me coffee with cream in it. genu- inc fresh cream from clover-fed cows in- stead of genuine, fresh chieory, from the nearest grocerys Oh, Father oh Moth- CT! hope that it was through ignorance you did it. I can not believe that you would deliberately bring me up to take cream in my coffee. when the dear, bless ed Heaven-sent missionary uses chicory! Excuse me. while I weep! But this is not all. My cup of misfortune is bitter 1t tastes like chicory with no cream in it, but I must drain it to the dregs, and use the chicory again.
 I know that horror must take hold of you, my gentle heather reader, when I Ca. .A0