Shiner gazette. [volume] (Shiner, Tex.) 1893-current, 1908-02-13
JIM-.A REMTNISCENCE OF
SLAVERY TIMES.
BY Frank E. Anderson.

Folks were always remarklng
the difference between Alick
and jim: the one, tall and
straight and handsome-with
long, scented curls and a victo-
rious black mustache-a Gany-
mede in gingerbread, whose
business it was to wait on the
table, but whose pleasure, toI
sport the Majors cast-otf
clothes-with swagger I'M
known to his master; while the
other, small, bow-legged and
SCOT colored, was of a wistful
countenance, and cleaned the
Majors boots Alick, who
knew his worth-(a thousand
dollars had been offered for him
more than once) was every
body's favorite, while even the
kitchen bullied jim, so he staid
out in the cold until Alick led
him trembling to that chair in
the chimney corner nearest the
cheerful flaming logs, and eX-
peditiously thrashed big Joe, the
leading prosecutor. From that
hour Alick liked jim, but Jim
loved Alick.
Their master, the Major, was
of the ancient type. He was a
believer in the militia, swore by
Jimini and by Hardee, never
tired of the Five Great Com
manders, shrined Uncle Toby
and our Army in Flanders in
his inmost heart, and never
missed the musters of the Blues.
The night before parade, he
laid out his regimentals, and
set out his boots and retied
early. On one of these evenings
-(it was in May and the per-
fume of roses tiptoed through
the wide hall as, drunken with
moonlight, the mocking-birds
were singing in the sycamore
before his door, he was going
to his room, chanting Mother
Goose to his daughter Rose,
who was riding on his shoulder,
when he encountered Alick and
Jim.
81 reckon | know what you're
after" he said to Jim, fumbling
for silver. You want some
change for smartening me up"
"Yas'r;. thanky Sir" replied
Jim, pouching the coin. But
might l be gwine ter An Din
er's breakdown"
The Major roared with hearty
mirth, in which the silvery
laughter of the little one was
sweetly tangled. What with
those legs?"
Timid Jim shrank back, and
the cause would have been lost
had not Alick struck an attitude,
caricaturing the Majors most
dignified posture, and sug-
gested:
"He's to fiddle; he can do it
better'n any man ten mile roun' ;
an IU dance fo' bofe, eff you'll
let us 60"
"Of with you, then, but be
back by day-break. Don't for
get my boots, though, Jim.
What?" as he saw the wounded
expression on that wistful black
face, Il didn't mean to hurt
your feelings. But shine the
boots up well, boy, for the gen
eral reviews tomorrow, and the
Major must look his best"
"Thank yo' kinely, Marse
Joe," exclaimed both servants,
and they parted, the Major to
dream of gold stars on his col
lar; Alick to brush his cheeks
and scent his curls with stolen
powder and perfume; and Jim
to rosin up his bow and shine
those boots.
When the two cronies trudged
back in the early gray, the Ma
ior's charger was paving the
gravel, and he was nearly ready
to mount, for his light-blue reg
imentals were on, his scabbard-
ed sword was shining like silver
by his side, and his heao was
graced by a martial helm,
sprouting a waving plume OF
white-cock feathers. But, like
Archilles, he was vulnerable in
his heel, for his boots were miss
ing. He was pacing the porch,
keeping a keen lookout across