Democratic Sentinel, Volume 11, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 September 1887 — Devoted to His Fiddle. [ARTICLE]

Devoted to His Fiddle.

A traveler in the Mississippi River bottoms came upon a small log-house, situated at a place where a cow-path crossed that great commercial artery, the country road. The traveler having ridden many miles without seeing a human habitation, quickly dismounted, and, just as he entered the door, the screeching notes of a fiddle greeted him. The merchant was seated on a box. He had just eaten his dinner, it seemed, for fragments of bacon and corn-bread were scattered on another box beside him, and had taken up his violin, one might naturally suppose, to aid digestion by means of gentle exercise. “How are you?” said the visitor. The merchant, without changing his eyes from that blank gaze which all river bottom fiddlers assume, continued to rake his high-sounding strings. The visitor, muttering that he could wait until the tune was finished, sat down. The merchant threw more life into his violin recital and patted his foot with such vigor that the cornbread crumbs danced on the box. After awhile the merchant stopped to twist the keys of his violin and the visitor, thus encouraged, said: “I see you have some herrings and sardines. I would like to buy some.” The merchant, having finished screwing up his keys, began a violent rendition of “Nigger on the Woodpile. ” “Say, my friend, do you keep this store ?” Cha, chai, chow, chick er cum tit er cha. The would-be customer waited at least a half hour longer, and then, as the merchant stopped to wipe the perspiration from his face, said: “If you haven’t got enough enterprise to attend to your business why don’t you hire some ” Cha, chow, chick turn er chick, turn er cha, cha, cha. “You are the most peculiar business man I ever saw.” , Cha, cha, cha. “And if you don’t wait on me I’ll go on and find somebody that will.”# Chick turn er cha, cha. “You are the blamedest fool I ever saw.” Cha, cha. “Well, I’m going.” The merchant put down his fiddle, wiped his face and said: “How air you, sah ?” “How am I? This is a pretty time of day to ask how I am when I have been sitting here at least an hour.” “Wall, has anything been hurtin’ you?” “No, but I wanted to buy something. Why didn’t you wait on me?” “Didn’t you see that I was busy ?” “I saw that you were raking that old fiddle.” “Didn’t see me losin’ much time, did you?” “No.” “Wall, then, I was busy. Mister,” the merchant impressively continued, “do you expect a man to give up all the enjoyment he’s got in this world merely to sell a few sardines an’ sich ? Do you come down here expectin’ to find keepers of commercial emporiums sich slaves that they’ll throw down happiness at yore beck an’ call ? Es you have, you’ve simply tuck the wrong fork of the road. When my time for fiddlin’ comes I’m goin’ to fiddle, an’ it wouldn’ make no diffrunce if the Gov’ner of the State was to come in an’ ask fur sardines an’ sich; w’y, I’d jes keep on fiddlin’, that’s all. If the folks throughout the country would fiddle more an’ worry less, they’d be a heep better off. Want that truck now ?” “No, I can wait until I get to a more civilized place.” “All right; jest suit yore own pleasure about that. Sorry you struck me right in my fiddlin’ time, for I alius like to accommodate a man, but duty is duty. Thar’s another store about six miles frum here.” “Has the owner of the place got a fiddle?” “Yes, an’ one that you can hear squeal a quarter of a mile. ” “Well, if that’s the case, vou’d better give me some sardines and herrings.” Arkansaw Traveler.