Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 38, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 October 1884 — AT A GEORGIA CROSS-ROADS STORE. [ARTICLE]

AT A GEORGIA CROSS-ROADS STORE.

■‘lt Takes AU Kind of Folks to Make a World.” T’other day me and maw walked over to the cross-roads store to do a little tradin’, and as we come in sight and seed the gang that was gathered ’round the door, maw she lowed: “Betsy, it’s jist as your pap says ; it takes a heap of different sort of folks to make a world.” It was Baddy, and they was a waitin’ for the mail; it don’t come but once’t a week, and they inginnerly waits tel then to come to the store. The women folks comes, too, and fetches ther babies and little fice dogs, and sometimes they fetch aigg.t and ingon buttons and dried fruit to swap for cotton cards and factory thread and snuff. They comes soon of a mornin’ and sets about all day long and dip snuff and smoke and lugs their babies, and if anybody kicks the little fice it makes ’em as mad as if you’d a slapt the baby. Ther is allers a gang of half-grown boys a pitchin’ horseshoes and a playin’ marvels under them trees back of the store; they sound liW they are quarrelin 1 all the time, but they are havin’ a power of fun. “VenchyOurroundance.” “Look at Bill, he’s a fudgin.” “Fat and stick it.” “Thar now, Jim’s dead.” “That’s not far; Jake he fudged; it’s not far, so it haint. Jim’s not dead, kase Jake he fudged.” “Taws on the middle.” “Vench your backs.” “Knucks.” “Roundance, no losance.” “Kicks.” “Vench your taws.'” “Fat and go last;” and with all of this some of ’em can’t keep ftom mixin’ in a few oaths. Some boys think they can’t be a man tel they larn how to cuss. The men folks inginnerly sets on them goods boxes ’fqre the store door and chaws tobacker and smokes ther pipes and whittles sticks and talks religion, and politics, and the craps, and the weather, and waits for the mail. Some of ’em never got a letter in ther lives; I know in reason old Wigginsoker never, and if he did he couldn’t read it; but he takes the county papers, “Our Mountain Home” and “The Reporter and Watchtower.” They had his name in one of ’em once’t, and he has been talkin’ of it ever sense. His old ’oman raised a turrible big beet in her garden, and he took it to town, and the paper said it was “a beet that beat all the beets in that beat,” and sense then he’s been a havin’ the papers read to him and a listenin’ for his name. He can’t write and he don’t git no letters, but reg’lar as a Saddy comes he pokes his head and creens his neck over the railin’ at the postoffice and axes: “Air thar airy dockyment for me? —A. J. Wigginsoker, Esq., or Jim Wigginsoker, as it wair; airy one ? will gemme my paper es thar haint no dockyment.” ’Squire Roberson inginnerly reads the paper, and they all gether round him to hear the news, and if he haint thar to read it old man Simpson trieato spell it out for ’em, and they know about as much when he quits as when he sot in, but they ’pear to go home satisfied. Sometimes a fancy-dressed drummer will be thar, and they’ll git him to read, though some of ’em had sooner listen at him talk as read. He tells the news from everwhars; and as he talks old Wigginsoker and old man Simpson listens with their under jaws drapt, and believes every word of it, whether thar’s airy bit of truth in it or no. They’ve got confidence in ’Squire Roberson. Some of ’em never gives ther opinion on nothin’ tel they hear what ’Squire Roberson thinks on the subject. Old man Simpson will go with the ’Squire in politics every time, but when it comes to religion nojpody can’t turn his head. He reads the Bible, and puts his own meaning on what he reads, and Mr. Nobody needn’t try to tell him different. He knows what he reads, and sees with his own eyes better’n anybody else can tell him. He will set and argy his pint half a day, or as long as anybody has got the time or keers to listen, and he don’t think nobody can git to heaven lessen they believe his way. But he is ignant, and don’t know no better.— Betsy Hamilton, in Atlanta Constitution.