Opie Percival Read

“ The screech-owl, muffling and fluttering among the damp leaves of the rank greenbrier, cried with annoying cadence, but the tree-toad, with his somnolent croak, smoothed down the pillow with gentle sleepiness.
Potter was awakend by John, who called him to breakfast. Old Alf soon came. Old man Sevier would be pleased to rent his farm. He cared not so much for the money as for the improvements that might be made. The morning hours were spent in a delighted talking over of maturing plans. In the afternoon old Jeff and his wife returned. ”

“ Potter, you an' John go roun' dat way, an' I go dis. Ef you hear my gun, come ter me. Ef I hear yo'n, I'll come."
They separated. "I feel sorry for the old fellow," Potter remarked. "He's a man of very deep affections, with all his African peculiarities. Indeed, he has feelings finer than many a man would ascribe to one of his color."
"I know he is one of the best men I ever seed—saw," John replied. "I have hearn folks try to make out that the nigger ain't got as big a soul as the white man, but nobody's got any bigger soul than Alf has. There's his gun!" ”

“ He read hallowed books written by men who lived when the ungodly sword and the godly pen were at war against each other, and in his fervor his language bore a power which his rude hearers had never felt before. ”

“ Not by advising the county to repair the bridge over Cypress Bayou; not the editorial advising the party to organize, but by getting business. One line in a thoroughly thrifty paper is worth more and has more weight than a thousand lines in a dragging publication that has to apologize every other week for its inability to get out on time. You want a partner, not to help you write, but a commercial rip-snorter, who can run business into a corner, choke it into submission, and then drag it into the office. That's the kind of a man you need. ”

“ The mind is God-given, and every good book bears the stamp of divinity. Books are the poor man's riches—the tramp's magnificent coach. I would rather live in a prison where there are books, than in a palace destitute of them."
"Dat's all mighty well, Mr. Potter," Alf interposed, "but yo' vidults gettin' cold. Books ain' gwine keep er man's supper warm. Look at John. He b'l'ebes ever' word you say, an' I doan' know but you'se right myse'f, but books ain't all. Er good heart is better den er book. Look, my [Pg 46] little gal is settin' dar fas' ersleep, wid dat caliker coat in her arms. ”

“ Occasionally some bold leader would leap high in the air and snap at the men; others busied themselves with gnawing at the trees.
"Did'n' I tell you it wuz bad luck ter bring er dog er feeshin'?" said Alf.
"Yes," Potter replied; "but what new fact has caused you to speak of it again? The dog did not come with us, yet we have the bad luck of being treed by wolves."
"Yas, sah, yas; but if dat dog wuz yere deze wolves would eat him up, an' dat would be monst'ous bad luck fur him. How I do wush I had my gun. I wouldn' ax fur nuthin' sweeter den ter set up yere an' blow de life outen deze raskils. ”

“ On one side, a man of books, not a great philosopher, but a man of engaging fancy and bright illustration. On the other side, a child of nature—a man who can feel the [Pg 92] pulse of a leaf, who can hear the beating of the heart of a tree. ”

“ To say the least, the pagan saw and appreciated many of the difficulties and contradictions that grow out of and belong to creeds. He saw how hard it is to harmonize what we see and know with the idea that over all is infinite power and goodness * * * the divine spark called Genius is in your brain. ”

“ When John introduced him to Potter, and when Potter had courteously taken his hand, Alf, removing his straw hat, made a profound bow and said:
"I'se mighty pleased ter meet you, sah, caze I sees de true genermen er shinin' on yo' face; but lemme tell you, white man, I wouldn't hab you hit me wid dat fist o' yo'n fur all de co'n dars gwine ter be raised in dis yere county fur two year. Er haw, haw! If dis man doan tote er maul 'roun' wid him I neber seed one. Look here, Mr. Potter, whar you frum, nohow?" ”

“ Potter remarked, as he drew his chair up to the box.
"Yas, sah, an' we'se needin' it, too. [Pg 45] Look at John, how he's handlin' dem books. Gwine read 'em atter while, ain't you, John?"
"Yes, an' I hope befo' long, too. Ef stickin' to it counts for anything, I know I will. I'd ruther have er good education, than ter have money, an' horses, an' fine clothes."
"You shall have it, my dear boy," Potter replied. "The truest friends of this life are books. With them every man is a king; without them every man is a slave. ”

“ Oh, Mr. Potter, how I wush I wuz at de house drinkin' butter milk. Lawd, yo' ole servant wushes you'd strike deze pant'ers wid lightnin'. Oh, Lawd, I'd ruther die den ter be killed by er pant'er."
The panthers stood gazing at them.
Potter's pallor was gone, and on his face there rested an expression of resignation. "If they intend to do anything," said he, "I wish they would not put it off any longer. This delay is awful."
"Oh, doan say dat, Mr. Potter; oh, sweet Mr. Potter, doan say dat. Doan make no sich subjestions ter 'em, fur doan you see da's jes' waitin' fur dar mines ter git made up. ”

“ Potter, who heard him, asked if he was ill. "Oh, no, sah," he replied. "I am jes' walkin' wid de speret o' my chile."
To John there had come a great change. He had studied with unwavering determination, and had during two winters attended school at Sunset. From a charge, he had become a companion to Potter, who, during more than one conversation [Pg 90] with Mrs. Forest and Eva, had said: "That boy has a wonderfully strong and original mind. His teacher declares that he never saw his equal. The mark he is going to make will be deeper than any furrow he has ever plowed." ”

“ In truth, you learn more rapidly than anyone else I ever knew; and sometimes, while watching your progress, I can not help but look back with pity upon the snail-like movements of my early efforts."
"Oh, dar ain't no question 'bout dat boy l'arnin'," Alf exclaimed. "Er boy dat l'arned ter break er colt ez easy ez he did one time, ain't gwine ter hab much trouble wid dis S an' J bizness. Whut, er boy dat ken slip down outen er tree widout er quick-eyed pant'er seein' him, ain't got sly mubement ernuff ter ketch deze yere books er nappin'? Doan know dat chile yit; doan know him." ”

“ Now, sah, we gwine ter hab some music in dis yere house. Bible say er man kaint lib by meat an' bread by itse'f; means dat folks aughter hab er little music. Ole Mars David uster play on er harp, an' I lay he done it well, too."
"The fiddle is your favorite instrument, I suppose?"
"You shoutin' now. De ho'n is er mule an' brays; de banger is er chicken dat clucks; de 'cordeon is er dog dat whines; de flute is er sheep dat blates, but de fiddle is er man dat praises de Lawd. De fiddle, sah, is de human bein' o' instrumen's. Now, set up yere ter de table, fur yo' supper's ready." ”

“ I reckon you has, caze when I starts out, suthin' mighty nigh sho ter happen. Whoop—shove 'em ole boys! Whoop, push 'em!"
"Hold on a minute," said Potter, stopping. "What is the cause of that bright light over yonder?"
"Bresh heep er burnin' whar somebody cl'arin' up new groun', I reckon," Alf replied.
"Not that," John remarked. "A brush heap would hardly send its light so high."
"Dat's er fack," the old man admitted.
"That is someone's house on fire," said Potter. "Who lives over that way?"
"Miz Forest's house is ober dat way ef I ain't turned 'roun'." ”

“ The clouds had rolled away, and the day was as bright as a Christian's smile. The mocking-bird, influenced to sportive capers, flew high in the air, poured out an impulsive rhapsody, and then pretended to fall. Down the gullies, spider webs, catching the glare of the sun, shone like mirrors.
They soon reached the "hole" of which Alf had spoken, but the fish would not bite.
"I'll tell you de reason," said the old negro. "Dis water is still risin'. You kaint 'suade er feesh ter bite while de water's risin', but soon ez it 'gins ter fall, w'y da'll grab deze hooks like er chicken pickin' up co'n. ”

“ A man well advanced in years dismounted from a swayback horse at the [Pg 17] gate, threw a plow point on the ground and came forward. So far from being ill-looking, there was something comical about him.
"Uncle Jeff," said the boy, "this here man's name is Potter. I met him over at the fiel' an' axed him ter come ter dinner with me, an' he 'lowed he wuz as hungry as a b'ar."
"How air you, sir? Glad to make yo' 'quaintance. We ain't got no great show uv suthin' ter eat, but I reckin we kin sorter dam up yo' appetite er leetle." ”

“ He's a nigger; but lemme tell you thar ain't no whiter man nowhar than he is. He works fur my uncle, ur ruther sorter craps it on the sheers. He don't peer to [Pg 12] kere fur nobody much but me an' his daughter, that's all crippled up with the rheumatiz, an' when she cries in the night with her pains, it don't make no diffunce how hard he has worked durin' the day, he takes her up in his arms, an' walks erbout with her till she hushes. That's what I call a white man. Whar air you frum, Mr. Potter? ”

“ When old Jeff and his wife had gone, when the horses' hoofs, rattling over the flinty road, were no longer heard, John, awakening from a seeming reverie, arose, [Pg 19] placed his hands with a sort of tender touch on the back of Potter's chair, and said:
"I am powerful glad you air goin' to stay, for you air the first great big man that ever tuck the trouble ter talk much ter me. I aint never been cuffed erroun' none, but thar is a heap er ways to make er boy feel bad without cuffin' him erroun'. Not understandin' him is er putty sho way uv hurtin' his feelin's." ”

“ When John reached home, he found that the cattle had been fed, and that supper was waiting for him.
"Suthin' gwine ter snatch you up one deze nights an' run erway wid you," said Alf, slyly winking at Potter. "Keep on prowlin' 'round de woods at night, an' you'll see bimeby. Set up dar now an' eat some o' dem fish me an' Mr. Potter dun cotch. B'l'ebes da bites in dis airly fall weder better den da do in de spring. Yo' Aunt Liz wuz ober yere terday, an' wuz powerful 'stonished ter see dat we ain't dun starved ter death yit. ”

“ He was confronted by the proprietor's wife. "What are you racing around here like a mule for—say? Don't you know you are wearing out the carpet? Why don't you go somewhere and sit down and behave like a human being? ”

“ When she seed deze new cheers an' table it made de ole lady open her eyes, I tell you. Seed dat pizen feller Juckels pokin' roun' down by de river 'bout dinner time. Dat feller ain't gwine ter come ter no good. I lay er rattlesnake gwine ter bite him some day. Huh, an' I lay it'll kill de snake, too."
[Pg 97]
John then related his adventure with Juckels. "Why, you ought to have stamped the life out of the scoundrel," Potter exclaimed. "Don't you know that he might hide behind a tree and shoot you. ”

“ A woman and a girl stepped into the room. John and Potter sprang up with the quick impulse of courtesy's sudden demand, and offered them seats. Alf put down his fiddle, and bowing, gave the visitors a grinning welcome.
"Where are your women folks?" the elder visitor inquired.
"We have none, madam," Potter replied, "except this girl, the daughter of this old——"
"Servant o' the Lawd," Alf interjected.
"This servant of the Lord," Potter smilingly repeated, "who assists us in tending our crop, and who is——"
"Erbout de bes' cook in dis yere neighborhood," Alf again broke in. ”

“ The popular estimate of a man's mental strength in this neighborhood is based upon the roughness of his expressions. There are schools, but, save in the winter, they are ill attended, for the children, so soon as they are old enough to study, are also large enough to lend important aid to the cultivation of the crops. Among those people there are many peculiar characters. They know of no country but America, and are therefore strictly American. They have a half-formed idea that there is an outside world, and that Andrew Jackson whipped it ”