The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1899-07-06

mas'?"
-'Oh. yes; I'll send him down. Don't
forget to come up"
Il won't fu'git," said Ben as he turned
away. But he did not pick up his banjo
to go to the big house until the pianta-
tion doctor had come and given Martha
something to ease her. Then he said:
"Ts got to go up to the big house
Marty; be back putty soon."
"Don' you hu'v thoo on my count.
You go long, an gin Mas Tawm good
measure, you hyeah?"
"Quit yo' bossin'," said Ben, a little
more cheerfuliy; II got you whah ycu
CANT move, an eff you give me any
O. yo' back talk l low frail you mon
st'ous."
Martha chuckled ''go long," and
Ben went lingeringly out of the door,
the banjo in it's ragged cover under
his arm.
The plantations boosted musician
| played badly that night. Col. Tom
Curtis wondered what was the matter
with hin, and MIR. Lewis told his
daughter as he drove away that it
seemed as if the colonel's famous BAN
joist had been overrated. But who
could play reels and jigs with the
proper swing when before his'eyes was
the picture of smoky cabin room, and
on the bed in it sick wife, the wife
of 40 years?
The black man hurried back to his
cabin where Martha was doing. She
awoke at his step.
Didn't | tell you not to hu'y back
hyeah 2" she asked.
Il amt nevah hu'ied / reckon / gin
'em all de music dey wanted" Ben an
swered little sheepishly. He knew
that he had not exactly covered himself
with glory. "How's you feelin'?" he
added.
Bout de same. got kila of mis'ry
in my side"
Il reckon you couldn't jine in de
hymn to TEX de wickedness outen dis
oil banjo?" He looked anxiously at
her.
II don't know bout j'inin' in, but you
go long an play anyhow. Eff feel LAX
iourneyin' wild you ff' you somewalar
on de road"
The banjo began to sing, and when
the hymn was half through Martha's S
voice, not so strong and full as usual,
but trembling with new pathos,
Joined in and went ON to the end.
Then Ben put up the banjo and went to
his rest.
The next day Martha was no better,
and the same the next. Her mistress
came down to see her, and delegated
one of the other servants to be with
her through the day and to get Ben's
meals. The old man himself was her
close attendant in the evenings, and he
waited on her with the tenderness of
woman. He varied his duties as nurse
by playing to her, sometimes some live
ly cheerful bit, but more often the
hymns she loved but was now too weak
to follow.
1t gave him an aching pleasure at his
heart to see how she hung on his music.
1t seemed to have become her very life.
He would play for no one else now,
and the little space before his door held
his audience of white and black chill
dren no more. They still came, but
the cabin door was inhospitabfy shut,
and they went away whispering among
themselves: Aunt Martha's sick"
Little Liz, who was a very wise pick
aninny, once added: -Yes, Aunt Mar
fy's sick, an my nanny says she ain
never gwine to git up no mo-" An
other child had echoed ''Never!" in the
hushed, awe-struck tones which chill
dren use in the presence of the great
mystery.
LIS mother was right. Ben's Mar
tha was never to get up again. One
night during pause in his playing she
whispered: "Play 'Ha'k! F'om de
Tomb" He turned into the hymn, and
her voice, quavering and weak, joined
in. Ben started, for she had not tried to
sing for so long. He wondered if it
wasn't token. In the midst of the
hymn she stopped, but he played on to
the end of the verse. Then he got up
and looked at her.
Her eyes were closed, and there was
| smile on her face-a smile that Ben
knew was not of earth. He called her,
but she did not answer. He put his
hand upon her head, but she lay very
still, and then he knelt and buried his
head in the bedclothes, giving himself
up to all the tragic violence of an old
mans grief.
Marty! Marty! Marty" he called.
"What you want to leave me fu'? Marry,
wait; | amt gwine be long"
His cries aroused the quarters, and
the neighbors came focking in. Ben
was hustled out of the way, the news
carried to the big house, and prepara-
tions made for the burying.
Ben took his banjo. He looked at it
fondly, patted it, and placing it in its
covering, put it on the highest shelf in
the cabin.
''Brothah Ben allus was mos p'opah
an 'sponsible so't O man." said LIS
mother as she saw him do it. Now,
| dat's what | call showin' 'spec' to Sis