Gov. Bob. Taylors Tales | Page 8

no mo' work for poor ol' Ned--he's gone whar de good
niggahs go."
Then, drawing himself up to his full height, he began! "Honah yo'
pardnahs! swing dem co'nahs--swing yo' pardnahs! fust couple for'd an'
back! half right an' leff fru! back agin! swing dem co'nahs--swing yo'
pardnahs! nex' couple for'd an' back! half right and leff fru! back agin!
swing dem co'nahs--swing yo' pardnahs! fust couple to de right--lady in
de centah--han's all around--suhwing!!!--nex' couple suhwing!!! nex'
couple suhwing!!! suh-wing, suh-wing, suh-wing!!!!!!"

[Illustration: UNCLE "EPHRAHAM" CALLING THE FIGURES OF
THE DANCE.]
About this time an angry lad who had been jilted by his sweetheart,
shied a fresh egg from without; it struck "Ephraham" square between
the eyes and broke and landed on his upper lip. Uncle "Ephraham"
yelled: "Stop de music--stop de dance--let de whole circumstances of
dis occasion come to a stan' still till I finds out who it is a scram'lin
eggs aroun' heah."
And then the dancing subsided for the candy-pulling.

THE CANDY PULLING
The sugar was boiling in the kettles, and while it boiled the boys and
girls played "snap," and "eleven hand," and "thimble," and "blindfold,"
and another old play which some of our older people will remember:
"Oh! Sister Phoebe, how merry were we, When we sat under the
juniper tree-- The juniper tree-I-O."
And when the sugar had boiled down into candy they emptied it into
greased saucers, or as the mountain folks called them, "greased
sassers," and set it out to cool; and when it had cooled each boy and girl
took a saucer; and they pulled the taffy out and patted it and rolled it till
it hung well together; and then they pulled it out a foot long; they
pulled it out a yard long; and they doubled it back, and pulled it out;
and when it began to look like gold the sweethearts paired off and
consolidated their taffy and pulled against each other. They pulled it
out and doubled it back, and looped it over, and pulled it out; and
sometimes a peachblow cheek touched a bronzed one; and sometimes a
sweet little voice spluttered out; "you Jack;" and there was a suspicious
smack like a cow pulling her foot out of stiff mud. They pulled the
candy and laughed and frolicked; the girls got taffy on their hair--the
boys got taffy on their chins; the girls got taffy on their waists--the
boys got taffy on their coat sleeves. They pulled it till it was as bright

as a moonbeam, and then they platted it and coiled it into fantastic
shapes and set it out in the crisp air to cool. Then the courting in earnest
began. They did not court then as the young folks court now. The
young man led his sweetheart back into a dark corner and sat down by
her, and held her hand for an hour, and never said a word. But it
resulted next year in more cabins on the hillsides and in the hollows;
and in the years that followed the cabins were full of candy-haired
children who grew up into a race of the best, the bravest, and the
noblest people the sun in heaven ever shone upon.
In the bright, bright hereafter, when all the joys of all the ages are
gathered up and condensed into globules of transcendent ecstacy, I
doubt whether there will be anything half so sweet as were the
candy-smeared, ruby lips of the country maidens to the jeans-jacketed
swains who tasted them at the candy-pulling in the happy long ago.
(Sung by Gov. Taylor to air of "Down on the Farm.")
In the happy long ago, When I used to draw the bow, At the old log
cabin hearthstone all aglow, Oh! the fiddle laughed and sung, And the
puncheons fairly rung, With the clatter of the shoe soles long ago.
Oh! the merry swings and whirls Of the happy boys and girls, In the
good old time cotillion long ago! Oh! they danced the highland fling,
And they cut the pigeon wing, To the music of the fiddle and the bow.
But the mischief and the mirth, And the frolics 'round the hearth, And
the flitting of the shadows to and fro, Like a dream have passed away--
Now I'm growing old and gray, And I'll soon hang up the fiddle and the
bow.
When a few more notes I've made, When a few more tunes I've played,
I'll be sleeping where the snowy daises grow. But my griefs will all be
o'er When I reach the happy shore, Where I'll greet the friends who
loved me long ago.
Oh! how sweet, how precious to us all are the memories of the happy
long ago!

[Illustration: THE OLD VIRGINIA REEL.]

THE BANQUET.
Let