Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 51, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 January 1884 — Drove Him Away. [ARTICLE]

Drove Him Away.

Joshua Peterson, a colored man who, directly after the war, recognized the importance of educating his children, sent his daughter to a refined school where she graduated with distinction. Shortly after she returned home, a smooth-looking barber began to visit her. One day she went out to the field where her father was gathering corn, and calling the old man, said: “Father. * “Yas, chile,” stopping with an ear of corn in his hand. “Has Mr. Sheppard seen you ?” “Doan know whuder he’s seed me er not, but r doan think dat I’se seed him." “Well, father, Mr. Sheppard is my lover, and I didn’t know but he Had come to ask you for me.” “Dis is news ter me,” said the old man, turning the ear of corn around; “whut sorter man is he, chile ?’’ * “A nice man, pa.” “An’ do he know how ter take kere o’ a wife?” “Oh, yes, pa.” “Whut ken he do?” “Oh, he can do anything. He writes such delightful poetry.” “Uh, huh; wall, whut else ken he do?” “Why he sings charmingly.” “He do, do he; whut else ?” “He is also an excellent scholar. He was educated at a college. ” “Dat afack? Fine man, ain’t he?” “Oh, he’s a wonderful man.” “I!se glad o’ it.” “And he’s so high-toned, too.” “W’y dat fills me wid joy.” “Yes, and he is such an elegant conversationalist,” said the delighted girl. “i’se monstrous proud o’dat sack,” replied the old man, throwing the ear of com on the pile. “Pse aUers been afeerd dat yer wouldn’t marry dat sorter man.” “I am so glad to hear you speak so, father, and I know James wifi, thank you from the bottom of bis heart.” “Yas, chile, yas. What udder numerations is de young man got ? ” “You should say what other accomplishments, father.” “Uh, huh, dat’s so. Forgot my g’ografy dat time.” “Your grammar, you mean, father. ” “Yas, chile, my grammar. Man’s knowledge o’ de polar circles sometimes slips up on him.” “Oh, yonder he is at the house, father. Come, I want you to meet him. I know that you have seen him many a time, but I want you to meet him as my accepted suitor, and to tell him how glad you will be to welcome him to your family.” The old fellow accompanied his daughter to the house. The girl promptly presented her lover. “Done gederin’ yer corn yit?” the old man asked. “Why, my dear sir, I have no corn to gather.” “Put up yer faten’ hogs yit ?” “I have no fattening hogs,” the astonished young man replied. “Uh, huh. Dun sowed yer wheat, I reckin?” “My dear sir, I have no wheat to sow.” “Uh, huh. Got through wid yer fall plowin’?" “Father,” said the girl, “he is not a farmer.” “Uh, huh. What does he do ?” “lama barber, sir.” “Uh, huh. Shaves, I reckon. Wall, Ed like fur yer tar shave my mule. Hejs got suthin’ de matter wid his ha’r. Airier dat come heah, an’ I’ll gin ye de wrist thrashen’ yer eber had. I’ll larn yer ter write po’try an’ sing. Come er sfhgin’ ’roun* heah any mo’ an’ I’ll fling yer ober de fence ’mung de hogs. I un’erstan’s yer. Knockin’ ’roun’ heah jes’ ter git me ter s’port yer. Go on away, de faster de better. Talk ter me ’bout a nigger whut sings an’ writes po’try.” —Arkansaw Traveler.