The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1905-04-09
"DE LODGE"

gracious arms akimbo regarding the
deliveryman for the grocery store with
a large concern.
You reckon he done daed?" she
asked soberly.
Il specs he's done gone for shuah!"
replied the deliveryman. HE done
cole clean UP to hees knees when l left
him"
''Law-de!" replied the cook. "Dey
shuah is dyin' fas'-dat's what dey is
The delIveryman sighed and rolled
his eyes.
Hit shuah is bad, sister; yes'm, hit
sho' is bad!" and he sighed with a
frank grief that led him to hit his
horse a whack that sounded across the
street as he walked toward the door
of the next customer.
The portly cook drew her red hand
kerchief across her glistening brow.
Il amt agwine-dat's all dere is to
hit. Dey'll come around after my fifty
cents all de same. Hit jest see lax dey
dies fer meanneSS, l done tole EN- j
amt a gwne. OATS ALL"
This was revolt of stunning sort
and the deliveryman stopped his horse
with a remonStrant Whoa"
What you gwine tell de Lodge,
Sister, he asked in awe-struck ac-
cents. Eff you doan't go dey'll find
you er dollar"
Il amt a gwine!" insisted the cook
bitterly. You jest let 'em come after
my dollar. I'll show 'em!" And the
cook, with many a muttered gurgle of
resentment waddled with the dignity
of two hundred pounds to the domain
of her kitchen.
Done cole up to his laigs!' an
nounced the deliveryman at each place
at which he stopped. "Dey jest lies
down an dies! an me gotter pay fifty
cents and me wild twins. Vas. hits
shore hard on er poor man, yassir!'
This story was begun with malice
aforethought at the wrong end from
that which first burst upon the daz-
zled view of the people of the city.
The funeral was-I had almost said
a joy. There were at the least fifteen
chariots of grief. The hearse was an
imposing one. There was a full at
tendance of prosperous cooks. The
route lay down the principal streets.
The mournerS were properly draped.
The portly cook, despite her aSServera-
tions Of the day before, was high in
the front of the procession. In fact,
she was the crowning glory of the
funeral, greater even than the preach.
er in the long coat who sat beside
her. 1t was easy to see that the ruler
of the Lodge was q diplomat The
winning of the cook was evident.
From a pole hanging drearily without
the carriage, waving sadly in the soft
wind. 1oated the banner of the Lodge.
AS she waved the emblem slowly to
and fro that all might see, the portly
cook was the pattern of one who
takes pride in the orthodox employ
ments of grief. Her massive figure
was swathed in black. Her dark eyes,
set straight ahead, peered out from
behind the folds of a satisfying veil
of midnight hue. The horses had
was mourner, from the cynical driv-
er of the hearse, to the sq1irIning car
riage load of pickaninnies, jammeo
between their elders like herring in
key, that brought up the potent rear.
1t was a funeral of parts and bought
with price, the substitution in
dozen homes of cold dinners for hot
by the participation of the cooks, and
to the glory of the Lodge. The high
leader in the carriage with the preach
er and the portly cook, looked back
upon the honors of the deceased
brother with benignant air, as one
who has labored in good deeds fills
himself with comforting seif-pity fol
his own unselfishness One wished for
a belief in the sentient spirit world for
the hope that the deceased might see
that here was one who had not died,
however he might have lived, in vaini
1t was touching to speculate on the
character of the deceased in his life.
Some venerable old sage among the
darI<ies, full of years and blessed with
the simple honors of his race at the
end. An old Unc Remus, one felt
with grizZled white whiskers and the
harmless vanity of useless brass
trimmed specs. doing odd jobs about
his children's home, telling old tales
to the brood of pickaninnies at the
end Of the procession, reading his
Bible, hobbling of Sunday to corner
seat in church, waiting for the last as
one of the plantations who has out
lived his day and fingers on, a quaint
reminder of a vanished and more
simple timei And now he was gone
at last ignorant and yet wise beyond
the babbling young blacks who aired
the knowledge of their books to his
consuming pride who never read ex-
cept in the Book which he could not
decipher and yet knew almost by
heart, a kind old uncle of the elder
Gays, going home!
Really it was quite a pathetic little
picture that / had constructed out oil
the soft spring day, from the rambling
little funeral with it's cooks and
mourners and little blacks damned in
the last carriage winding in its trail
of dust through the principal streets.
But on that account. the picture
should have been kept intact. | had
no business in interviewing the cook.
1t is disheartening the ease with
which the bubble of sentiment may be
pricked. Who would keep true the
warm tinted dreams must preserve the
hay view that comes through the
lashes from half-shut eyes. And L. |
with rosy pathos built with labor |
from the common circumstance of an |
humble death, must needs interview |
the cook. her even who held the ban |
ner of the Lodge at the front of the |
processionl
She was hot and fiustered, albeit |
still proud, and she was berating the |
milk man when / commenced to probe
for the history of the poor old uncle /
who had died, whose funeral had coII-
ed forth so general an expression of |
grief. Before the awful dignity of the
cook in her mourning robes, | felt as
one standing in the presence of a /
simple tragedy of lowly souls. Sincere
~. ard without levity, l asked the |
opening question:
Did you have a good time at the