Democratic Sentinel, Volume 9, Number 43, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 November 1885 — What He Died Of. [ARTICLE]

What He Died Of.

About a mile from Fort Pillow wo met three colored men and a team of horses. The horses were hitched to a dead mule, and were “snaking” him off for burial, but just then had come to a dead halt. The men were wrangling in loud and earnest voices, and as we halted to see what was going on one of them explained: “You see, gem’len, disyere mule died of heart disease.” “Didn’t do nuflin’ of de sort!’’ disputed the second. “If dat dere mule didn’t hev a chill an’ jist friz hisself to death, den I’m a goner!” “Chill!” yelled a third. “Gem’len, dat mule was old nuff to die, an’ be jist keeled ober, an’ dat’s all dar am to it. Heart disease! Chill 1 Why, dein two niggers neber seed a mule afore las’ y’at!” “Junius, doan’you go to puttin’on airs ober me!” threatened the first, who was driving the team. “You is a lowdown nigger from de bottom lands, an’ detje white men doan’ take no stock in sich!” The Colonel advised peace, but Junius bristled up with: “Low-down nigger! Bottom-lands I Why, fo’ de Lawd, but I has alius lib’d on de mountains, an’ as fur bein’ a bad man I has got twenty-two papers from de werry best white folks to show who I am!”

“Reckon you lie, sah!* “Who’s a liar ?” “Yes, who’s a liar?” There was a triangular fight. Each man went in on his own account and fought the other two, and they did thump each other in a hearty manner. They were still at it when the dead mule rolled over, raised his head, and after a moment got upon his feet and began to eat leaves from a roadside bush. Our laughter stopped the fracas and each darky stood stock still and looked at that mule as if he had been a ghost. Then they looked at each other with blank faces. Then up at us with open mouths. We rode away before they had spoken a word, but presently th • leader shouted after us: “Bress my soul, but he’s done come to life an’ we‘s had dis yere font for nullin’."— Detroit Free Preus.