Gov. Bob. Taylors Tales | Page 7

began in earnest at the quilting. Old uncle "Ephraham" was an
old darkey in the neighborhood, distinguished for calling the figures for
all the dances, for miles and miles around. He was a tall, raw-boned,
angular old darkey with a very bald head, and a great deal of white in
his eyes. He had thick, heavy lips and a very flat nose. I will tell you a

little story of uncle "Ephraham." He lived alone in his cabin, as many
of the old time darkeys lived, and his 'possum dog lived with him. One
evening old uncle "Ephraham" came home from his labors and took his
'possum dog into the woods and soon caught a fine, large, fat 'possum.
He brought him home and dressed him; and then he slipped into his
master's garden and stole some fine, large, fat sweet
potatoes--("Master's nigger, Master's taters,") and he washed the
potatoes and split them and piled them in the oven around the 'possum.
He set the oven on the red hot coals and put the lid on, and covered it
with red hot coals, and then sat down in the corner and nodded and
breathed the sweet aroma of the baking 'possum, till it was done. Then
he set it out into the middle of the floor, and took the lid off, and sat
down by the smoking 'possum and soliloquized: "Dat's de fines' job ob
bakin' 'possum I evah has done in my life, but dat 'possum's too hot to
eat yit. I believes I'll jis lay down heah by 'im an' take a nap while he's
coolin', an' maybe I'll dream about eat'n 'im, an' den I'll git up an' eat
'im, an' I'll git de good uv dat 'possum boaf times dat-a-way." So he lay
down on the floor, and in a moment he was sleeping as none but the old
time darkey could sleep, as sweetly as a babe in its mother's arms. Old
Cye was another old darkey in the neighborhood, prowling around. He
poked his head in at "Ephraham's" door ajar, and took in the whole
situation at a glance. Cye merely remarked to himself: "I loves 'possum
myself." And he slipped in on his tip-toes and picked up the 'possum
and ate him from tip to tail, and piled the bones down by sleeping
"Ephraham;" he ate the sweet potatoes and piled the hulls down by the
bones; then he reached into the oven and got his hand full of 'possum
grease and rubbed it on "Ephraham's" lips and cheeks and chin, and
then folded his tent and silently stole away. At length "Ephraham"
awoke--"Sho' nuf, sho' nuf--jist as I expected; I dreampt about eat'n dat
'possum an' it wuz de sweetest dream I evah has had yit." He looked
around, but empty was the oven--"'possum gone." "Sho'ly to de Lo'd,"
said "Ephraham," "I nuvvah eat dat 'possum while I wuz a dreamin'
about eat'n 'im." He poked his tongue out--"Yes, dat's 'possum grease
sho,--I s'pose I eat dat 'possum while I wuz a dreamin' about eat'n 'im,
but ef I did eat 'im, he sets lighter on my constitution an' has less
influence wid me dan any 'possum I evah has eat in my bo'n days."

Old uncle "Ephraham" was present at the country dance in all his glory.
He was attired in his master's old claw-hammer coat, a very buff vest, a
high standing collar the corners of which stood out six inches from his
face, striped pantaloons that fitted as tightly as a kid glove, and he wore
number fourteen shoes. He looked as though he were born to call the
figures of the dance. The fiddler was a young man with long legs, a
curving back, and a neck of the crane fashion, embellished with an
Adam's apple which made him look as though he had made an
unsuccessful effort to swallow his own head. But he was a very
important personage at the dance. With great dignity he unwound his
bandana handkerchief from his old fiddle and proceeded to tune for the
fray.
Did you never hear a country fiddler tune his fiddle? He tuned, and he
tuned, and he tuned. He tuned for fifteen minutes, and it was like a
melodious frog pond during a shower of rain.
At length uncle "Ephraham" shouted: "Git yo' pardners for a
cow-tillion."
The fiddler struck an attitude, and after countless yelps from his eager
strings, he glided off into that sweet old Southern air of "Old Uncle
Ned," as though he were mauling rails or feeding a threshing machine.
Uncle "Ephraham" sang the chorus with the fiddle before he began to
call the figures of the dance:
"Lay down de shovel an' de hoe--hoe--hoe, hang up de fiddle an' de
bow, For dar's