Democratic Sentinel, Volume 11, Number 47, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 December 1887 — On the Old Plantation. [ARTICLE]

On the Old Plantation.

“Bang, snap, fizz, bang!” When first I opened my eyes in the gray December dawn, I almost believed it to be Fourth of July, for surely it could be naught but firecrackers that were thus noisily saluting my ears. But as the cobwebs of sleep passed from my brain, I quickly recalled that this was my first Christmas in the “Sunny South,” and I had been told that in some places it was a custom of the light-hearted Africans to welcome the day with the gay and festive Chinese crackers. With considerable curiosity, then, I sprang from my couch and hurried to the window, to gaze down upon the courtyard below, where dozens of black and shining little “pickaninnies" were squabbling and turning over each other in a perfect frenzy of delight and occasionally being brought to order by a wellaimed cuff from some fat, good-natured “Mammie,” who, however, seemed to enjoy the small fireworks as much as the youngest cbocolatebued shaver there. Suddenly the master appeared, bowing and smiling, upon the broad veranda, when in an instant arose such a chorus of “Cris’mus gif’, massa, Cris’mus gif’!” as speedily brought a shower of small coins scattering among the crowd. Then what a frantic scrambling ensued, while for two hours later, the mistress of the household had her hands full, giving out extra rations of butter, sugar, tea and tobacco, to say nothing of gay bandannas, aprons, ribbons, and large gilt pins and earrings for the young and pretty girls. The whole day, then, was one of feasting and jollification, the men, boys and dogs indulging in that rarest of sports to the true African, an exciting “’possum huntwhile in the evening the negro quarter was a scene of boisterous revelry, as old ami young “tripped the light fantastic toe” to the Squeaky strains of Uncle Jake’s antique fiddle. Not till the night was far spent did the fun subside, and closed with a “cake walk,” when, in stiff and silent pairs, the dusky belles and beaux paraded two by two, and in the end Maum Chloe proudly carried off the cake; for, in negro vernacular, “she never bat an eyelid, and wore a death-like look on her face,” two peculiarities which the company evidently considered the height of grace and beauty. Certainly she was a “sight for gods or men,” as with shoulders back, and arms akimbo, she marched with the air of a queen, and vainly conscious of her holiday finery, a low-necked gown, gorgeous bandanna, and glittering beads and ear-rings, which semi-barbaric splendor well accorded with her dark skin, like polished ebony. And as the midnight bells proclaimed that another Christmas was past and gone, the air resounded with hearty cheers, from many lusty throats, for “Ole massa, ole missus, and the ole plantation!”