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THE SOUTHERN WORLD, APRIL 15,1884.
.npcially (or the Southern World.!
'ZT*«n and Me Coes .. A.-
Hf 01 lanty.
t. W. B.
PART n.
K l mU 8’ jes finish tollin' you ’bout
-Jitt Atlanty.
Wall jes ’bout two hours arter we
rtarted'the houses kep’ a cornin’ closer
^closer one to tother; the keer whistle
bloffin’ an’ a-blowin, tit to split its
L a t; an’ every bell a-ringin’ an’ a-
Lin’, like all was wil’; soon we run
under a powerful big, long shed, with
lots 0’ tother keers in it; an’ the man in
soldier clothes hollered out, 4 4 At-lan-ty I”
Then he come an’ tuk me into the
jeautifulles’ big room, with a flower
cjrpet on the tioo’, an’ sofes all roun’;
an- lots o’ folks, all in a stur-up. A right
good lookin’ o’man, that I hearn ’em a-
callin' Carrie, axed me into a leetler
room, jes offer the big one, whar sue
gaid 1 could wash my face an’ ’fresh my-
self*
She tu’ned a leetle screw an’ the wa
ter jes came a-pitchin’ into that ere
*hite stone bowl es ef the hull Chatta
hoochee was a-hine o’ it, an’ had jes
busted out. But purty soon she tu’ned
the screw agin’, an’ it stopped a-oomin’.
Then she showed me how ’twas, an’
gaid that mos’ all the city folks washed
thar faces with that’ere water every day,
an’ never had to go to the town spring
iuh none.
"Wall,” says I, “ it’s awful clayey I
an’ I’d jes think they’d all soon be a
mighty purty cop’ras color; an’ I’m
powerful glad my spring’s not o’ that
km’.
Then I looked in the glass an’ axed
Carrie ef that blue veil didn’t look fool
ish, on a ole ’oman like me.
But she said “no,” an’ hit was fixed
on rale • stylish, an’ I tole her ’twas
Georgia’s doin’. Then she shown me
how to tu’n it back an’ 1 was pow’iui
thankful to katch my breath onct more.
Soon we went out into the big room,
whar the ole man was a-watin’.
“Come, ole ’oman,” says he, 44 le’sgo
down the Whitehall road fust thing, to
see John Keely, iuh 1 seed in a’ Atlanty
paper, w’at 1 barrud on the keers, that
he had jes got in a mighty purty lot o’
Jerseys; an’ 1 wan’ to tek a look at ’em
fuh my stock o’ cattle is a-runnin’ low.
So, on we went, in f’ar an’ trimlin,
fuh them ere keerB jes kep’ a-runin’ up
an dow o’ them tracks, es ef they was
jes a tryin’ fuh to show off, an’ didn’t
care one mite who they run over.
Wall, on we put down the Whitehall
r oad. Es we went 'long there was mo
men a-fore the sto’ doo’s dressed up fine
a 8 ^ a ndin' stock-still, an’ a starin’ you
out a count’nance, than the law ’lows!
kinks I, to myself, 44 ef this is city
manners I don’t wan’t none o’ ’em.
J&s that shamed that 1 jes had to look
0Wn » w ’en, sakes alive 1 I mos’ jump
over my old man, it came ’pon me so
^ ent > n °t one o’ them had nary foo
ut I foun’ out that they was jes’ man
0 s, a-sot out thar to show off the sto
cl othe B on.
fore a ^ the sto’s thar was more
rt y things a-hangin’ out than Jake
otnpson, him es keeps the sto’ at Cross
uar whar we live, ever saw in his
bl 8Kes’ dreams.
j! Ut ’ f,,re long we was at John Keely’*
do’ * ^ Ue man meet us at the
fui» aa me » w hat I was a-wishin
curtesy 1 '/ ft” 8ays X ’ an ’ 1 drapped
* hea i > * was’n goin’ to let him git
0 me in maimers. 44 Nothin’
miid f 8 i° U ’ ^ ut my °lo man would be
*tock J leeyed *1 you’d show him yo’
l8poaeyou keep ’ em
.1*’; ma ’ am ' el y°“ P leaa ®.
pen ’ a trots us off, to the cow-
f °re onVo^ htJ but ’ n °’ he 8topped a
o* counters an’ a wavin'
leva" l3n , *° man says: “Jer-
an’ i»f»
“ Wish to see the Jerseys, ma’am!
Want a Jersey? Hev jest got in a fine
stock o’ them; no finer lot in the city!
An’ here is one looks as ef it was jes
made fuh you—color an’ all.”
“ I like red uns,” says I, “an* clean
in the har like my ole Maria es died las’
yar.” “ But,” says the ole man, a-git-
tin impatient, 44 whar is they? jes le’me
see um! ”
‘‘Har they is, sir, says the man,”
an’ bless you soul, es I’m a livin’! he
hoi’s up a lettle black jacket an’ nary
cow was to be seen.
44 Put ’way you’ coats an’ le’me see
the cattle,” says Jeems, a-gittin riled.'
“ Cattle? ” says the man a-starin’ at
him.
44 Yes; cattle,” says Jeems, a-raisin’
o’ his voice, “ which way is the cows?
The Jersey cows you bragged ’bout in
the paper? I’m tired o’ this foolin’ 1 ”
seed the man open his eyes an’
us.
kinder tu’nin’ roun’, he jes stuffed his
red hankcheer way down his throat tell
thought he was a-gwin to kill he-self.
By this time the ole man was gittin
purty hot.
“Come, ole ’oman,” says he, “I’ll
not stan’ this yere .chattin’ nary minit
longer, an’ I’ll jes ’form Guvner Mac. o’
this chap.”
44 Sir,” says the gentleman, as smilin’
es a basket o’chips, “you mus’ please
excuse us, but there’s been some mis
take, these purty, snug leetle jackets are
called Jerseys; but I’m sorry that you’ve
been disappointed.”
“ it don’ make no odds,” says the ole
man a-coolin’ down, 44 but I thought you
was a meanin’ fine cows, an’ my stocks
gettin’ low.”
44 Keep a dairy farm? ” axed the man,
4 it mus’ be so nice to hev a plenty o’
rich milk an’ rale fresh butter.”
“ Better b’leve ’tis! ” says Jeems.
“An’ I ’spose,” says he, a-tu’nin’ to
me, “ that you’ve lots o’ fine chickens,
an’ fat turkeys ? ”
4 1 jes wish you could see ’em,” says
, an’ they’s that tame they’ll eat out o
my ban’ an’ run all over me.”
44 Wall, one o’ these jackets,” says he
is jes the thing for you to put on cool
mornin’s an’ evenin’s when you go out
lo feed them; they are the snuggest
things. Let me put you up one.”
“ Shall 1, Jeems?” says I.
“Wall, 1 reckin,” says he, “ef you
has a likin’ fuh it.”
So he jes’ pull out his ole leather wal
let an’ paid the money right down; an’
the man he took me to the big lookin
glass an’ holped me on with hit jes like
1 was his mar.
“Then,” says he, “Is you a wantin
nothin’ mo’ ?” an’ follered us clean outen
the front do’, an’ the ole man an' 1
shuck ban’s o’ him an’ axed him out to
our farm nex’ summer, when peaches
was a bearin’.
“ Wall,” says I to the ole man, “ ef
you is willin’, les go to see Phillips Crew
. •. .L.i niuoo n’ Minnie whfl.1
an’ git that thar piece o’ music what
Georgie sont fuh.” So we axed a man
which way was the Marietta road. He
pinted it out., but said we’d have to go
to tother side to git thar. Seein’ a nice
line o’ rocks, we thought ’twould be a
good place to cross, but we had’n got
half over when we bad to stop, for we
seed a big kerridge cornin’ ’long an’ was
a feard o’ bein’ runned over. On it
comes, an’ jes as the hinder part the
kerridge gits whar we was, it stopped
stock still, an’ the man that was a-dnv-
in’ looks at us es much es to say, won
vou eit up?” So we thought he was
rale kind, an’ bein’ they was a-gwm
our way we got up. There was lots o
folks, some dressed plain, but most o
'em with fine sto’ clothes on, an long
cloaks like they used tt» whar when I
was a gal, an’ every one with a leetle
Z in thar hands. Thar was sofas on
both sides o’ the kerridge, an a clock
to P> that the ole man said tol all bout
^Wehad’n rid fur when the man that
a-drivin’ kep’ a-lookin’ so hard at ns
that the ole man got up an’ axed if he
was a-wantin’ nothin’.
“Wall,” says he, “you haint paid
nothin’ fuh your ride.”
"Why,” says Jeems, “we was a-
walkin’ ’long when you drew up an’ axed
us to git in; in our settlement we don’
charge nothin’ when we gives folks a
lift.”
“But everybody has to pay on the street
keers,” says the man, “ they don’ b’long
to me.”
“Wall,” says Jeems, “ I’m allers able
to pay my own way, whats your charge ?’
“A nickel a piece,” says he, an’ shown
the ole man how to drap it in the leetle
glass box.
Jeems tol’ him we was a-watin’ to go
to see Phillips Crew, so he let us light,
an’ shown us how to go.
Soon we was thar. I jes wish you
could o' seen the fine books, an’ boxes,
an’ papers, an’ mo’ purty things than
you ever hearn tell of t Thar was
mighty good mannered an’ obleegin’
men thar, an’ one was so perlite that 1
axed him to come out next summer, for
I thought o’ our Georgie.
But, O, wasn’t thar more orgins, an
banjos, an’ fiddles, an’ pianys! An
man was playin’ on one o’ the pianys
jes like Georgie’s! She bought hern at
that thar store, an’ thar’s a lot o’ music
in it. We bought Georgie’s song, she
had writ the name on a slip o’ paper, an
as the day was a-gwin we jes put out
fuh the state house. As we was on the
way thar we saw a big fine house, whar
lots o’ folks was a-gwin out an’ in.
What house is that? ” says Jeems
to a man standin’ .nigh.
“The Custom House,” says he.
44 Umph! ” says Jeems, an’ we went
on, fuh 1 reckin he was like me, didn
know no better fuh bein tol’ but I kuowd
in reason it wus’ be caln so ’cause the
folks was so customed to gwin to it, for
I kep’ a-seein’ em a-gwin in an’ a-comin
out the hull time.
Soon we got to the house whar the
Legislatur hoi’s its meetin.
In the fust room we seed thar was a
lot o’ fishes in a glass box, sot up on a
table; but the water was that muddy
you couldn’t skeersly see’ em, 4 Ceap’
now an’ then when they was a-swim*
min’ roun’, you’d see a half one at a
time.
I know’d in reason they was a longin’
fuh to git out thar. Then thar was a
man a-turnin’ some kin’ o’ merchine,
name the “Leetle Queen,” an’ the
wheat kep’ a pourin’ out.
When my ole man seed that, thar was no
gittin him any furrer, an’ I had to look
at tother things all by myself, or not see
’em at all.
They was the curuses folks! ‘Why they
had the bigges’ lot o’ rocks, in long
boxes, with glass tops, an’ they was laid
out that easy an’ reglar es ef they was
a-feared o’ breakin’ of ’em.
Then thar was a loto’ wheat, an’ oats,
an’ all them sort o’ thing, a hangin’ up
an en jars.
Last o’ all, at one side o’ the room, I
seed a powerful long bone, what they
said was jes half the jaw o’ the fish that
swallowed Jonah. I don’t wonder he
could stay in thar for three whole days
an’ nights, an’ had plenty o’ room, fuh
to kneel down an’ say his prars, or any
tother thing he was a-wantin’ to do.
But then it most o’ been powerful un
pleasant! It was such a new place, an
so dark; now, ef he had jes a had a lu-
cifer match a-long o’ him, he could a-
Btruck a light; an’ ef he had o’ done
it I reckon he’d a-got out thar'in a
leetle less an’ three days time an’ come
a pitchin’ too l
Jes then Jeems corned roan’ to whar
I was a stan’in’ an’ aed ’twas time to go
an’ we lef’.
Thar was a man thar with kole blac’
har who was called Kernel Tom Howard
thatcood out talk a win’ mill. Heshood
be a preacher, fur he talks like one.
boon we got to the place whar they
hoi’s the Legislatur, an’ a man showed
ns the big rooms what he calln the
Honse an’ the Sinnit Chamber.
Thar was a pulpit in both o’ ’em, an a
lot o’ desks whiftr the men sot when they
was a-makin’ o’ the laws: an’ thar was
high place whar the company sot,
what corned in to see am make ’em, an’
to listen to the big speeches.
An’ he shown us all how they did
when they made the guvner.
An’ thar was a heap o’ powerful big
picture, all roun’ o’ guvnera an’ big
men, that was party, nigh all dead; an’
we tol’ him that we was a-wantin’ to see
the live Guvner.
Jes then somebody corned into the
room, an’ the man said :
“Thar he is, now! ”
So wo goes right off an’ makes oar
manners to him; an’ Jeems axed him
how waB ole Georgy; an’ ef he thought
the whisky bill an’ the dog law would
pasB; an’ tol’ him our son John, who
was a legislator, was well; an’ ef he was
a-wantin’ to sen’ any message to him,
we was a-gwin right back thar.
Then I axed him ’bout Mrs. Mac. an’
the chillun; an’ guv him two pair o’
home-knit socks, with blue stripes in the
ribbin; an' a lot o’ knit lace fuh Mrs.
Mac. to aidge a par o’ piller slips; an’
axed him to bring ’em all out to the
farm nex’ summer.
He looked powerful pleased, an’ was
mighty perlite; but he never axed us up
to his house to spen’ the night, as we
spected him to, so we jes concluded in
our own min’s that we’d go home that
arteruoon, fuh we was a gittin tired any
how.
Then the man showed us a room whar
thar was sech a lot o’ books, tdiell ’pon
shelf, all b’longin’ to the b'ate o’ Geor
gy ; an' we seed many more purty things
an’ a great big wheel a-tu’nin roun’,
which the man said was this airth. I
knowed the wurid kep a*movin, but I
never *etn it a-d >in it afore an’ ita-mos’
made me dizzy a-thinkin ’bout it.
Then ’twas time to go, an’ we promised
to come back some time, to see the new
capital when it got built. An’ we thank
ed the man fuh all his kin’ness, an’axed
him to come out nex’ summer.
Arter we had walked roun’ a leetle
mo’, an’ seed the fine houses, an’ Guv.
Mac.’s house, but we never went in, an’
the meeting houses, we jeB stopped at
the sto’s an’ traded our things, that
Jeems had left n’ar thar, for a caliker
frock, an’ some brown jeans, an’ a lot o’
tin pans; an’ put out for the big shed.
Thar we got a right nice dinner, but
they didn have a bite o’ turnips, nor no
meal bread.
We bought some oranges an’ tother
leetle things; an’ purty soon our keer
came a-puflin’ up.
Carrie holped us on the keers, an’ we
axed her to come out, too, fuh we thought
Bhe desarved it, an’ a leetle change
from that smoky, noisy shed would be a
rest to her.
So here we are at home agin, an’ John,
an’ Sara Ann, an’ Georgie, an’ Jim a-
spendin’ o’ the day with the 44 ole folks ”
who is both a restin’ in thar own ole
chars; but no ways discontented or pinin’
arter the fine things what we have seed,
an’ only hopin’ that the blessed Lord
will allers give us sech a good home, an’
spar our lives to see the man frum John
Keely’s, the one at Phillips Crew’s,
Carrie, Gnv. Mac. an’ the Chilian, an’
the kin’ man frofn the State House, when
they come out nex’ summer.
Mol A Cure-All.
Norman’s Neutralizing Cordial is not
a core-all and we do not recommend it
for every ill “ to which the flesh is
heir.” It is all, bat nothing more than
is claimed for it in the name of this ex
cellent remedy. It neutralizes the ac
ids and gases of the stomach, makes di
gestion easy and gives tone to the debil
itated system.
•* e •» —
When fish are rare, even a crab is a
fish.