The Conjure Woman, Charles W. Chesnutt [reading women txt] 📗

on his min’, en he wuz gwine on down de road right pas’ whar Aun’ Peggy lib w’en de mawkin’-bird come up en mos’ pe’ched on his shoulders, en sez, des ez plain ez ef he wuz talkin’:

“ ‘Go see ole Aun’ Peggy,
Er e’se you’ll wush you had;
She’ll show you how ter marry
De gal you wants so bad.’

“Dat happen’ ter be des w’at Mars Tom wuz studyin’ erbout, en he ’mence’ ter ’low dey mought be sump’n in w’at dis yer mawkin’-bird say, so he up’n’ goes ter see Aun’ Peggy.

“Aun’ Peggy say how glad she wuz ter see ’im, en tol’ ’im how she’d be’n wantin’ ter do sump’n fer ’im. En den she ’splained ’bout Mars Donal’, en tole Mars Tom sump’n w’at he mus’ go en do.

“ ‘But I ain’ got no money, Aun’ Peggy,’ sezee.

“ ‘Nemmine,’ sez Aun’ Peggy, ‘You borry all de money you kin rake en scrape, en git all de credit you kin, en I ain’ be’n cunj’in’ all dese yeahs fer nuffin, en I’ll len’ you some money. But you do des ez I tell you, en doan git skeert, en ev’ything’ll tu’n out des exac’ly ez I say.’

“Ole Mars Donal’ sprinkle’ de goopher mixtry on his niggers’ rashuns, nex’ Sunday mawnin’, en den sarved out half rashuns, des ez Aun’ Peggy say, en sho’ ’nuff, de niggers didn’ ’pear ter notice no diffe’nce, des ez Aun’ Peggy say. En all de week none er de han’s didn’ say nuffin ’bout not habbin’ ’nuff ter eat, en dey ’peared ter be des ez well sat’sfied ez ef dey’d got dey reg’lar rashuns.

“Mars Donal’ figgered up his books at de een’ er a week er so en foun’ he had sabe’ so much money dat he ’mence’ ter wonder ef he couldn’ sabe some mo’. En bein’ ez de niggers wuz all gittin’ ’long so nice, en de cotton had be’n laid by, en de fiel’-han’s wouldn’ hab ter wuk so tarrable ha’d fer a mont’ er so, Mars Donal’ ’lowed he’d use Aun’ Peggy’s goopher some mo’, en so he tuk’n sprinkle’ some mo’ er de mixtry on de nex’ week’s rashuns en den cut de rashuns in two once mo’; stidder givin’ de han’s a half a peck er meal en a pint er merlasses en half a poun’ er bacon, he gun ’em a qua’ter er a peck er meal en half a pint er merlasses en fo’ ounces er meat fer a week’s rashuns. De goopher wukked des de same ez it had befo’, en de niggers didn’ ’pear ter notice no diffe’nce. Mars Donal’ wuz tickle’ mos’ ter def, en kep’ dis up right along fer th’ee er fo’ weeks.

“But Mars Donal’ had be’n so busy fig’rin’ up his profits en’ countin’ his money, dat he hadn’ be’n payin’ ez close ’tention ter his niggers ez yushal, en fus’ thing he knowed, w’en de ha’d wuk begun ag’in, he ’skivered dat mos’ er his niggers wuz so weak en feeble dat dey couldn’ ha’dly git ’roun’ de plantation; ’peared es ef dey had des use’ up all de strenk dey had, en den des all gun out at once.

“Co’se Mars Donal’ got skeert, en ’mence’ ter gib’ em dey reg’lar rashuns. But somehow er nuther dey didn’ ’pear ter hab no ap’tite, en dey wouldn’ come fer dey rashuns w’en dey week wuz up, but ’lowed dey had ’nuff ter las’ ’em fer a mont’. En meanw’iles dey kep’ on gittin po’er an po’er, en weaker en weaker, ’tel Mars Donal’ got so skeert he hasten’ back ter see ole Aun’ Peggy en ax’ her ter take dat goopher off’n his niggers.

“Aun’ Peggy knowed w’at Mars Donal’ had done ’bout cuttin’ down de rashuns, but she wa’n’t ready to finish up wid Mars Donal’ yit; so she didn’ let on, but des gun ’im ernudder mixtry, en tol’ ’im fer to sprinkle dat on de niggers’ nex’ rashuns.

“Mars Donal’ sprinkle’ it on, but it didn’ do no good, en nex’ week he come back ag’in.

“ ‘Dis yer mixtry ain’ got no power, Peggy,’ sezee. ‘It ain’ ’sturb’ de yuther goopher a-tall.’

“ ‘I doan unnerstan’ dis,’ sez Aun’ Peggy; ‘how did you use dat fus’ mixtry I gun you?’

“Well, den Mars Donal’ ’lowed how he had sprinkle’ it on de fus’ time, en how it wukked so good dat he had sprinkle’ it on de nex’ time en cut de rashuns in two ag’in.

“ ‘Uh huh, uh huh!’ ’spon’ Aun’ Peggy, ‘look w’at you gone en done! You wa’n’t sat’sfied wid w’at I tol’ you, en now you gone en got ev’ything all mess’ up. I knows how ter take dat fus’ goopher off, but now you gone en double de strenk, en I doan know whuther I kin fin’ out how to take it off er no. Anyhow, I got ter wuk my roots fer a week er so befo’ I kin tell. En w’ile’s I is wukkin’, you mought gib yo’ niggers sump’n a little better ter eat, en dey mought pick up a little. S’posen you tries roas’ po’k?’

“So Mars Donal’ killt all ’is hawgs en fed his niggers on roas’ po’k fer a week; but it didn’ do ’em no good, en at de een’ er de week he went back ter Aun’ Peggy ag’in.

“ ‘I’s monst’us sorry,’ she sez, ‘but it ain’ my fault. I’s wukkin’ my roots ez ha’d ez I kin, but I ain’ foun’ out how ter take de goopher off yit. S’pos’n you feed yo han’s on roas’ beef fer a week er so?’

“So Mars Donal’ killt all ’is cows en fed de niggers on roas’ beef fer a week, but dey didn’ pick up. En all dis time dey wa’n’ wukkin’, en Mars Donal’s craps wuz gittin’ ’way behin’, en he wuz gwine mos’ ’tracted fer fear he wuz bleedzd ter lose dem five hund’ed niggers w’at he sot so much sto’ by. So he goes back ter ole Aun’ Peggy ag’in.

“ ‘Peggy,’ sezee,