Omaha daily bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 187?-1922, 1905-07-09


- readers of the current magazines
are probably familiar with some of her
poems. During the heat OF the summer
we are all filled more or less with the
spirit of laziness and ease Nowhere are
these qualities typifed as in the old darkey
songs. The oldtime negro is passing. Joel
Chandler Harris, in his preface TO MISS
Wheeden's "Bandana Ballads" mourns this
fact and says that travellers in the south
look almost in vain for the quaint and
gentle souls, so tender-hearted and de-
voted, whom novelists and writer's of tales
have never tired OF browning with halos
He also casts a few barbs at these siren
uous ones who fly on wings OF haste
through the country, calling them "the in
credulous generation, engaged in trying to
snatch a few tufts Of hair from the sew
enty-and-seven thousand prongs Of the
money demons tail" There are a few
wanderers, however, who, having the true
spirit, can still find bits Of the old south.
Miss Weedens plantation. just out Of
Huntsville Ala, is like a breath from
another world Her house, the quaint and
beautiful things with which 1t is furnished,
the old darkies who still minister to her
wants, and last, but far from least the
personality OF this patrician southern
woman herself, form a mental experience
not soon to be forgotten. Her negroes,
either old or young, in no sense answer
70 the name of 'coons." and the songs
they sing could never for one instant be
called "rag-time."
Miss Weeden revives and resurrects a
bygone period; the atmosphere of her poems
is sweet with the oldtime affection and
simplicity. There are three OF these poems
N.I, md
trate sadly and painfully the change which
has come since the war. The first one Is
called
A BANJO SONG.
l plays de banjo better now
Dan him dat taught me do,
Becase he plays for all de WORT
An Jes plays-for You.
He learns his chunes-I jes lets down
banjo string or two
Into de deepest Of my heart,
An draws up chunes for You.
Slowly dey comes swingin up
a quiverin' through and through,
Till wild a rush OF tinglin' notes
Dey reaches light-an' You
/ never knows II dey will shine
Wet wild tears or dew;
only knows dat, dew or tears,
Dey shine becase OF You.
This seems to be happy little song. bub-
bling from the merry heart OF youth and
happiness. The note changes very percep-
tibly in
THE BANJO OF THE PAST.
You ak about dat music made
On bantos long ago,
An wants TO know why It amt played
BY niggers any mo.
Dem banjos b'longed 70 by-gone days
When times and chunes was rare,
When we was gay as children-'case
We didn't have care.
But when we got our freedom, we
Found proJeckin' was done;
Our Twin was TO make-you see
An dat lef out de fun.
We learned to vote an read an spell
We learned de taste oh tears
An when you gets dat 'sponsible,
Do banjo disappears.
In sharp contrast 10 the modern coon"
his syneopated personality and gaudy
clothes Is one ancient grizzled negro. worn
old and gray In faithful service. who looks
about upon the new conditions and finally
voices this little gem OF a ballad;
HOMEsICK.
/ long to see a cotton field
Once more before / go;
All hot an splendid, roll its miles
OF sunny summer snowl
/ long to feel de warm, sweet wind
Blow down de river bank.
Where FIELDS OF waving sugarcane
Are CROWN rich and rank.
/ long to see dat Easy World
Where no ones In a furry;
And where, when Il comes time 20 die
Dis nigger needn't hurry!
Miss weeden is doubly gifted. in that she
Is a portrait painter besides being 4 poet
The water eolors that she does OF her