The new-comers were Carmelite and Soongy, two pleasant-looking, neatly-dressed young colored women; accompanied by a light brown-skin boy about fourteen years old, known to every one as Dink, the comb-player. He was a merry-faced, accommodating young troubadour, willing to lend his talent on any chance occasion; making his ravishing music on the comb for the sheer love of the thing itself, and the simple reward of a “plate full o’ vittuls an’ a cup o’ somh’n-’nother to drink.”
The new-comers were Carmelite and Soongy, two pleasant-looking, neatly-dressed young colored women; accompanied by a light brown-skin boy about fourteen years old, known to every one as Dink, the comb-player. He was a merry-faced, accommodating young troubadour, willing to lend his talent on any chance occasion; making his ravishing music on the comb for the sheer love of the thing itself, and the simple reward of a “plate full o’ vittuls an’ a cup o’ somh’n-’nother to drink.”
Soongy was his aunt, and was extravagantly proud of his musical ability. “Dink ain’ no master min’ by no means”; she would say, when speaking of his attainments, “but he sho got it all in his head. An’ nobody ain’ learned him, either.”
Dink’s repertoire was a remarkable one. It included all the “himes” and mellows and “Dr. Watts” sung by the Baptist and Methodist congregations, reaching from “Wes’wego ferry landin’,clean down de coas’ to Gritny in de Eas’ Green”; all the “ballets” and “sinful songs” disseminated by “backsliders” and “evil-workers”; and many haunting fragments of “make-up songs,” the invention of Dick’s harmonious mind.
His voice, whether used for singing, or for making music through the comb, was true and melodious; having the clear, sensuous timbre of adolescence that won the admiration of his most orthodox listeners. “De Sperret goin’ stop his shoo-fly ways one dese days; an’ den dey ain’ goin’ benobodykin tetch him raisin’ his voice to give Gawd de praise he done helt back for so long;” the old church members would comment, after having listened to some of the “shoo-fly ballets.”
After friendly greetings were exchanged all around, and the new arrivals were seated comfortably, Susan asked Carmelite:
“W’at you doin’ on dis side de river tonight? You ain’ give up yo’ place to Miss Newgeem house, is you?”
“Yas ma’am,” Carmelite answered languidly. “I bin lef’ her a long time.”
“An’ you ain’ doin’ nothin’?” Susan questioned.
“Yas ma’am; I ain’ idle,” she answered reassuringly. “I’m sewin’ on quilts, yonder to my house. An’ I sho got some nice ones to sell. Made out o’all kind o’ pretty scraps I gethered up ’munks de w’ite folks; an’ dey ain’ cos’ me a nickel.”
With calm misgiving, Susan asked her:
“An’ quilts goin’ suppoat you an’ put clo’se on yo’ back, an’ puvvide you wid shoes an’ vittuls an’ things?”
“If I can’t sell ’um, I sho kin raffle ’um.” Carmelite answered with conviction. “An’ make much as I made workin’ up in Miss Newgeem scrooched-up kitchen; onsatafied an’ fretful as I was all de time.”
“I thought you was please wid de place,” ventured Scilla.
“Who? Miss Newgeem de wrong one to make people feel please. She got such fussy ways, she ain’ to be please herownself. So da’s w’at make me quit an’ go yonder to my quilts; whah I ain’ had to worry ’bout bein’ plagued all day long.”
“But Carm’lite,” began Soongy, by way of pleasant argument, “don’t you fin’ sewin’ on quilts is mo’ taxin’ work den cookin’ for a small fam’ly like Miss Newgeem got? I fin’ it mo’ combinin’, me.”
“’Tain de cookin’, Soongy,” Carmelite explained. “It’s all de hum-bug you gotta do: passin’ de dishes thoo hot water befo’ you brings ’um to de table. An’ a fresh plate for evvy diffunt dish deyhas to eat. An’ you know yo’self, how long it take for dishes to dreen aft’ you done pass ’um thoo hot water, an’ dey gotta be wipe besides.
“An’ Miss Newgeem got a whole lot o’ Japanee china dishes so thin you kin see thoo ’um, an’ you gotta be careful how you tetch ’um. So one day, I say to myself: I’m goin’ put de things in de oven an’ heat ’um all at once an’ be done. So I put de plates an’ de cups in de oven, an’ push de stove-do’ half-to, an’ set down to wait on ’um. An’ chile! Aft’ a w’ile, I could hyeah dem things crackin’ up in de oven,—an’ I ain’ never hadtetch’um.
“An’ w’en I open de stove-do’ an’ looked at ’um,—chile, de dishes was so wreckded, it took methreedish towels to pull outoneplate.”
“You had good sense to go yonder to yo’ quilts,” Felo murmured in a humorous undertone.
“I was goin’ leave her any way, so dat ain’ bin de thing made me quit,” Carmelite answered, artlessly. “Miss Newgeem des natchally had too much shiftin’ o’ de dishes for de fewness o’ de vittuls; an’ I ain’ never bin used to eatin’ light.” At this reference to food, Susan became conscious of a sense of lax hospitality, whereupon she said: “Dey got plenny gumbo in dat pot you see stannin’ on de h’af; an’ plenny sweet potato pies yonderin de safe; so you ain’ need to feel strange ’bout breakin’ yo’ fas’—lessen you bin et heavy befo’ you come hyuh dis evenin’.”
The suggestion was opportune. Smiles of appreciation from one to the other showed that the invitation was agreeable to all.
Susan went to the safe and distributed plates to the women, and Nat and Felo began placing chairs around the table. She filled the plates with a generous portion of snowy rice and fragrant gumbo, and the women arranged them on the shining new oil cloth.
“Great-day-in-de-mawnin’!” Nat exclaimed. “Sis’ Susan, you sho spoons out dat gumbo wid a tantalizin’ scent! Set down, members, an’ smack yo’ lips; an’ Gawd bless de cook for de feas’ dis evenin’.”
They gathered about the table with lively interest and sat down and began eating. Uncle Foteen was sleeping quietly before the fire. Dink was sitting across the room, looking on with wistful glances, and making querulous music on the comb. On discovering his aloofness, Susan called to him: “Boy, put dat comb out yo’ han’, an’ come set to de table an’ eat yo’ vittuls. You ain’ hongry?”
Looking at her timidly, Dink answered:
“Yassam. But I come ’way from home in a hurry, an’ my haid ain’ comb’.”
Susan studied his face for a second, then said reprovingly:
“Boy, take dat comb you got in yo’ han’ an’ pass it thoo’ yo’ head, den come set to de table.”
Having a better knowledge of the nature of Dink’s hirsute endowment than Susan had, Soongy came to the rescue.
“Leave ’im be, Sis’ Susan,” she told her. “Leave ’im eat whah he settin’. Wid dem grape-twisses Dink got on ’is head, it’ll take ’im all night to git thoo bat’lin wid ’um.”
Accepting the plausibility of Soongy’s statement, Susan took Dink a plate of gumbo and left him to enjoy it in his quiet corner alone. She went back to the table to see that Tom was made thoroughly comfortable, and to ply her guests with coffee and pies, and refill their plates with rice and gumbo if they wanted more. Their enjoyment was keen and genuine; enlivened with much playful banter and merry laughter, and amusing gossip about the doings and sayings of the “w’ite folks;” which, after a while, developed into a sort of philosophic commentary.
Nat’s oratory was in full flower, and Felo applauded him, an encouraging ally. Always unorthodoxin his views, his over-enthusiasm now became offensive to the women, and their dissenting voices began to fill the room with shrill echoes. Susan realized that a harsh dispute was imminent and something had to be done to prevent it. The fortuitous whimpering of Dink’s comb arrested her attention, and she welcomed the plaintive sound as a divine interruption. Fixing her eyes on the front door, she arose from her chair with unusual energy, and tapping her spoon on her plate with a ringing sound, she called out:
“Stop dis racket up in hyuh! Y’all take my house for a honky-tonk? Quit yo’ racket an’ try an’ talk like people.”
Her positive tone brought immediate silence. Everyone looked uneasily towards the door, anticipating the entrance of some accusing moderator of the peace. Seeing no one appear, Nat said:
“Gawd knows, Sis’ Susan, you oughta stop play’n chillun tricks, ole as you is. W’at sattafaction you fin’ try’n to frighten people like dat?”
“You ain’ too ole to make racket, is you?” Susan asked quietly. “An’ w’at sattafaction you fin’, mult’plyin’ words an’ ’sputin’ wid wimmins till you stirs ’um up to hot blood an’ spiteful wranglin’,—an’ und’ my roof, too? W’at you gotta say ’bout it?”
“For Gawd sake, stop y’all quoilin’ an’ set down,” interposed Tom. “Y’all had to wait till big Sunday to gether hyuh an’ make a ruckus?... Susan, whah dat boy gone wid de comb? Tell him to blow music on de thing an’ change dese niggers ’maginashun.”
A second request was unnecessary. Dink’s appetite being gratefully appeased, his mental attitude was one of harmonious sociability. Adjusting the tissue paper on his comb, he put the outlandish instrument to his lips and began playing with spirit the old shout called “De W’ite Horse Pawin’ in de Valley.” The merry melody floated through the room, the infectious lilt taking possession of the listeners’ thoughts and holding them captives to its insistent appeal. They began to sway gently to-and-fro, their bodies, like their minds, intoxicated by the captivating rhythm. The women began to hum; a low, melodious hum, like the far-away sound of a colony of wood birds awakening at day-break. Then the men joined the humming, and the sound recalled the droning of distant village church bells, floating over quiet fields at sunset. And the mingling of the voices made one think of the rumbling of November winds chasing among the telegraph wires.
After a while, Felo began to sing the narrativelines of the song, the others taking up the burden, and responding with growing fervor after each line:
“My Lawd command me to go in de wilderness.(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley)W’at did I see w’en I went in de wilderness?(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley).”
“My Lawd command me to go in de wilderness.(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley)W’at did I see w’en I went in de wilderness?(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley).”
“My Lawd command me to go in de wilderness.(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley)W’at did I see w’en I went in de wilderness?(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley).”
“My Lawd command me to go in de wilderness.
(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley)
W’at did I see w’en I went in de wilderness?
(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley).”
Then like a majestic wave of sound, rose the noble refrain:
“In de valley, my Lawd,On my knees;In de valley, my Lawd,In de valley.In de valley, my Lawd,Down on my knees,I seen de w’ite horse pawin’ in de valley.”
“In de valley, my Lawd,On my knees;In de valley, my Lawd,In de valley.In de valley, my Lawd,Down on my knees,I seen de w’ite horse pawin’ in de valley.”
“In de valley, my Lawd,On my knees;In de valley, my Lawd,In de valley.In de valley, my Lawd,Down on my knees,I seen de w’ite horse pawin’ in de valley.”
“In de valley, my Lawd,
On my knees;
In de valley, my Lawd,
In de valley.
In de valley, my Lawd,
Down on my knees,
I seen de w’ite horse pawin’ in de valley.”
Then back again to the tuneful story of adventure in the land of the spirit:
“Who heard my pray’rs w’en I prayed in de wilderness?(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley)Who foun’ de road w’en I comed out de wilderness?(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley).”
“Who heard my pray’rs w’en I prayed in de wilderness?(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley)Who foun’ de road w’en I comed out de wilderness?(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley).”
“Who heard my pray’rs w’en I prayed in de wilderness?(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley)Who foun’ de road w’en I comed out de wilderness?(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley).”
“Who heard my pray’rs w’en I prayed in de wilderness?
(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley)
Who foun’ de road w’en I comed out de wilderness?
(W’ite horse pawin’ in de valley).”
Then the chorus again, full, swinging and triumphant:
“In de valley, my Lawd,On my knees;In de valley, my Lawd,In de valley.In de valley, my Lawd,Down on my knees,I seen de w’ite horse pawin’ in de valley.”
“In de valley, my Lawd,On my knees;In de valley, my Lawd,In de valley.In de valley, my Lawd,Down on my knees,I seen de w’ite horse pawin’ in de valley.”
“In de valley, my Lawd,On my knees;In de valley, my Lawd,In de valley.In de valley, my Lawd,Down on my knees,I seen de w’ite horse pawin’ in de valley.”
“In de valley, my Lawd,
On my knees;
In de valley, my Lawd,
In de valley.
In de valley, my Lawd,
Down on my knees,
I seen de w’ite horse pawin’ in de valley.”
The tuneful tumult awakened Uncle Foteen from his peaceful sleep, and he looked around the room bewildered, uncertain of his whereabouts. What did the gathering mean? Why were they sitting around the long white table, singing church songs? Whose wake was it? Who were they waiting for in the dim, lamp-lighted room?
Looking at Susan appealingly, he asked:
“He ain’ come yet?”
She went over to the old man, and said to him quietly:
“Evvything alright, Unc’ Foteen. You bin sleepin’.”
Looking at her thoughtfully, he said with tremulous voice:
“If dat candle burn out befo’ Marse Sylvain githyuh, we gotta put Ma’am Guillaume away. You know, we ain’ ’lowed to keep her too long.”
“Unc’ Foteen, lemme fix you some coffee an’ milk,” Susan said pleasantly; meaning to divert the old man’s thoughts. “An’ you all members, stop w’at you singin’,” she called to the chorus, “an’ sing somh’n w’at goin’ make Unc’ Foteen feel gay.”
Obeying Susan’s request, Dink began playing a rollicking melody on the comb; patting his foot vehemently on the brick-sprinkled floor, to mark the even time.
“Boy!” Felo called out to him indignantly, causing Dink to immediately stop playing. “Quit yo’ ratty music, an’ play somh’n decen’ w’at goes wid Sunday an’ fittin’ for Chrishtun people to sing.”
“Don’ pay ’im no ’tenshun, li’l boy,” Susan interposed. “Dis house my meetin’-house; an’ if dey got people in de buildin’ displease wid de himes an’ music an’ things, den leave ’um go some yuther place an’ hunt till dey finds de thing w’at suits ’um. So go ’head, li’l boy, an’ play an’ sing jes’ like yo’ min’ tell you.”
Further objection was useless after this declaration. Dink laid his comb on the bench along-side of him, and leaning back against the wall, began singing gaily:
“W’en de moon be rizAn’ come a-peepin’ thoo de branches o’ de ’simmon tree;Look like I hyeah ’im say:How come evvy night I see you watchin’ for me?...He don’ know I got a reasonBrings me out hyuh evvy season,Lessen it be w’en de clouds is po’in down rain.”
“W’en de moon be rizAn’ come a-peepin’ thoo de branches o’ de ’simmon tree;Look like I hyeah ’im say:How come evvy night I see you watchin’ for me?...He don’ know I got a reasonBrings me out hyuh evvy season,Lessen it be w’en de clouds is po’in down rain.”
“W’en de moon be rizAn’ come a-peepin’ thoo de branches o’ de ’simmon tree;Look like I hyeah ’im say:How come evvy night I see you watchin’ for me?...He don’ know I got a reasonBrings me out hyuh evvy season,Lessen it be w’en de clouds is po’in down rain.”
“W’en de moon be riz
An’ come a-peepin’ thoo de branches o’ de ’simmon tree;
Look like I hyeah ’im say:
How come evvy night I see you watchin’ for me?...
He don’ know I got a reason
Brings me out hyuh evvy season,
Lessen it be w’en de clouds is po’in down rain.”
It was a glorious moment. He knew that he was soloist supreme; that the song was his individual possession, and nobody would venture to sing it with him. He had them in his power. He would make Felo listen, whether or no. Almost rapturously he went on:
“Go ’long, moon,I want you to th’ow yo’ light behin’ de ’simmon tree.P’int de roadSo her w’ats comin’ hyuh to meet me’ll see.Th’ow yo’ shadders kind o’ fancy,Des for me an’ my Nancy,Her w’at you hyeah come singin’ yonder in de lane.”
“Go ’long, moon,I want you to th’ow yo’ light behin’ de ’simmon tree.P’int de roadSo her w’ats comin’ hyuh to meet me’ll see.Th’ow yo’ shadders kind o’ fancy,Des for me an’ my Nancy,Her w’at you hyeah come singin’ yonder in de lane.”
“Go ’long, moon,I want you to th’ow yo’ light behin’ de ’simmon tree.P’int de roadSo her w’ats comin’ hyuh to meet me’ll see.Th’ow yo’ shadders kind o’ fancy,Des for me an’ my Nancy,Her w’at you hyeah come singin’ yonder in de lane.”
“Go ’long, moon,
I want you to th’ow yo’ light behin’ de ’simmon tree.
P’int de road
So her w’ats comin’ hyuh to meet me’ll see.
Th’ow yo’ shadders kind o’ fancy,
Des for me an’ my Nancy,
Her w’at you hyeah come singin’ yonder in de lane.”
Having reached the end of the verse, his eyes skimmed the room for looks of approval. Several of the listeners were smiling appreciatively. Drawing a deep breath, he extended his chest imposingly, and went on with the chorus:
“W’en I hyeahs dat black gal sing,’Tain no use to try an’ do another blessed thing;Feel like my foots done clean tuck wing,An’ my buzzum feel so strong.Umph-umph, people, you kin b’lieve my word,Her kind o’ singin’ you ain’ never, never, never heard.She des de same as a natchal wil’ mawkin’-bird,Bustin’ wid song!”
“W’en I hyeahs dat black gal sing,’Tain no use to try an’ do another blessed thing;Feel like my foots done clean tuck wing,An’ my buzzum feel so strong.Umph-umph, people, you kin b’lieve my word,Her kind o’ singin’ you ain’ never, never, never heard.She des de same as a natchal wil’ mawkin’-bird,Bustin’ wid song!”
“W’en I hyeahs dat black gal sing,’Tain no use to try an’ do another blessed thing;Feel like my foots done clean tuck wing,An’ my buzzum feel so strong.Umph-umph, people, you kin b’lieve my word,Her kind o’ singin’ you ain’ never, never, never heard.She des de same as a natchal wil’ mawkin’-bird,Bustin’ wid song!”
“W’en I hyeahs dat black gal sing,
’Tain no use to try an’ do another blessed thing;
Feel like my foots done clean tuck wing,
An’ my buzzum feel so strong.
Umph-umph, people, you kin b’lieve my word,
Her kind o’ singin’ you ain’ never, never, never heard.
She des de same as a natchal wil’ mawkin’-bird,
Bustin’ wid song!”
When Dink finished his happy serenade, Nat called to him:
“Boy, come over hyuh an’ tell me how ole you is.”
Dink looked appealingly at his aunt, and as he crossed over to Nat’s chair, Soongy answered for him:
“He be fifteen years ole nex’ June, Unc’ Nat.”
“Boy, you sho got a gif’ straight from Gawd, quiv’in’ in dat th’oat o’ yone,” Nat said to him, patting him on the head patronizingly.
“A gif’ straight from de devil,” muttered Felo, looking at Nat and batting his eyelids with impatience.
Nat reflected a while on the difference of opinion, then asked drily:
“Since w’en you got to be so frien’ly wid de devil, he done showed you how to make ’videnashun ’twix w’at b’lonks to him an’ w’at b’lonks to Gawd?”
“Is Gawd give people gif’s to th’ow ’way, tellin’ ’bout devilment,—goin’ ’round singin’ all kind o’ sinful random; ’stid o’ raisin’ up dey voice to give praise to de things Gawd done sanctify?”
“W’at things de boy tol’ about in de song you cunsider Gawd ain’ sanctify?” Nat asked solemnly. “Can’t be de man watchin’ for de moon to come up behin’ de ’simmon tree. Dat ain’ natchal? Gawd ain’ sen’ de moon to shine, an’ make de water move, an’ help de plants to grow in de groun’, an’ give light so people kin know de right road from de wrong?—Dat ain’ natchal?... An’ Gawd ain’ make de sap rise in de young ooman an’ de young man, stirrin’ ’um up like de sap stirrin’ in de ’simmon tree, till dey feels somh’n curuss drawin’ ’um to’ads one-’nother?” He went on. “Dat ain’ natchal?
“An’ Gawd ain’ make de mawkin’-bird sing, settin’ in de aw’inge tree in de moonlight whah ’is ole lady kin ketch de a-ko ’is voice, w’en she settin’ lonely on top de aigs in de nes’?—Dat ain’ natchal?...
“Des like Gawd make de young man lif’ up ’is tenshun w’en he hyeah de soun’ o’ de young gal voice, comin’ up de lane, singin’ bol’ so she kin ’tract ’im?—Dat ain’ natchal?... Shucks! Ole crazy nigger. You gotta study yo’ lesson a heapmo’, befo’ you go ’roun’ hyuh preachin’ to people so biggidy.”
Appearing fully satisfied with the delivery of his colorful remonstrance, Nat turned to Dink and said quietly:
“Boy, go yonder an’ play on yo’ comb till you make dese squinched-up niggers ’maginashun change, an’ dey finds out dat de sperret got yuther ways o’ movin’ ’um ’sides preachin’ on Bible texes an’ things.”
“Dah, bless Gawd!” Nookie exclaimed. “Unc’ Nat done win. Done put Mr. Felo out on a home run.”
“Felo ain’ gone, is he?” Tom inquired.
“No. Felo hyuh,” Susan told him.
“Mr. Felo, you ain’ goin’, is you?” Scilla asked solicitously.
“Who?” Felo replied, with calm amazement. “Felo goin’ stay right hyuh wid y’all till de party break up.”
His resolve was greeted with merry laughter and good-natured raillery; during which, Dink went back to his seat and began playing on the comb:
“I’m goin’-a lay down my burden down by de river-side,Down by de river-side, down by de river-side;I’m goin’-a lay down my burden down by de river-side,An’ I ain’ goin’ study war no mo’.”
“I’m goin’-a lay down my burden down by de river-side,Down by de river-side, down by de river-side;I’m goin’-a lay down my burden down by de river-side,An’ I ain’ goin’ study war no mo’.”
“I’m goin’-a lay down my burden down by de river-side,Down by de river-side, down by de river-side;I’m goin’-a lay down my burden down by de river-side,An’ I ain’ goin’ study war no mo’.”
“I’m goin’-a lay down my burden down by de river-side,
Down by de river-side, down by de river-side;
I’m goin’-a lay down my burden down by de river-side,
An’ I ain’ goin’ study war no mo’.”
He came to the refrain, and every voice took up the words, singing with increasing fervor, until the song rolled like a pæan of deliverance:
“Ain’ goin’ study war no mo’Ain’ goin’ study war no mo’Ain’ goin’ study ... war ... no ... mo’....”
“Ain’ goin’ study war no mo’Ain’ goin’ study war no mo’Ain’ goin’ study ... war ... no ... mo’....”
“Ain’ goin’ study war no mo’Ain’ goin’ study war no mo’Ain’ goin’ study ... war ... no ... mo’....”
“Ain’ goin’ study war no mo’
Ain’ goin’ study war no mo’
Ain’ goin’ study ... war ... no ... mo’....”
The stirring refrain was drawing towards the end, when the door opened and another member came in.