Rensselaer Republican, Volume 25, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 December 1892 — MAUM LIZA REBELLED. [ARTICLE]

MAUM LIZA REBELLED.

She Took Issue with the Heavenly Bill of Fare. There is one class of sable servitors who look back with longing eyes to the days on the old plantation—they are the house servants, the rpd-baridana aristocracy of serfdom. Ech and every one a privileged character, from the old mammy who had nursed her master or mi stress in babyhood, ■ and their children after them, to the scullion in the kitchen just emerging form the chrys sis of piekaninny’-hood,' and whose sole duty was 'to grease 4he griddle while the cook lifted out the cakes. ’. Every such old mansion had its mam- | my. She was invariably large, inclih- ’ ed to corpulency, dignified, very black, and intensely religious. All mammys were old. They must have been young once, but no one ever saw a • youag mammy. Such an old mummy lived on the plantatibrrmf Col. \V ay, near Savannah. She was the ide J mammy in all derails. One day she came in to her mistress. “Miss Fanny, da? gwine ter be a connunion in town on de Sab.” “And of course you want to .go. Maum Liz« P” “Yes, Miss Fanny. : I feels de need o’ res’n de sperrit.” "Very. well. You shall have some money to pay your c ir fare, and L hope you will have a good time.” Maum Liz i waddled off with a broad, grirt on her face, and for the rest of the week fed the chickens four times a day and sang in a high voice all the campmeeting hymns sne knew, prominent among which was: 1 My bones is ol’ and sore an’ my body’® wrack with pain. But I know I git to Jesus bine by. Saturday night saw her oil arrayed in a stiff black dress, brand-new handkerchief, and some cold fried chicken to stay her hunger. She spent the night at a relative’s in S vannah, !nd returned home the plantation oa Monday. Her mistress expected to have a long story of the “connunion.” but hone whs fortWcJdmiffg. All day long M um Liza stalked about the yard moody and silent. Something was evidently wrong. Finally the lady walked out into the yard. “Maum Liza, are you sick?” “No, Miss Fanny. TstoPuble peart" “But something is wrong. Have any of the servants annoyed you? If they have I will have them punished.” “No, Miss Fanny. Nobody misoeholden ter me. Any nigger gimme sass he feel de doughstick.” “Now, what is the matter then?" "Yo’ jes’ go stret in de house. Miss Fanny, ’n’ tek yo book ’a’ sot down ’n’ read, ’n’ don’ bbdder yo head ’bout Maum Liza." “But lam not going to. Something is wrong, and I am going to stay right here until you tell me what it is." Maum Liza shifted from one foot to the other and nervously twitched the bandana on tho haek of her head. Finallv she broke out: - "Well, Miss Fanny, sence yo’ so ‘tarmined. yo’ sot on dat stump an’ I tell de hull story. Yo’ know 1 went ter connunion las’ Sab. In de mawnin’ I say Igo to de l o’t chu’ch. j went arly an’ went Olar down in de front row. All de niggers come, an’ de church jam full. De berry las’ minute, w’eu he c’ud’n git nurr’ chile la, de pash’n come an’ walk down de sonter aisle wid he tall, shiny hat hoi’ up in de han’side he head, so. Den we all sung a hymn, an’ Pa Johnson, he gib out de tex’ sum de book. I dunno whurr’ he kin read or no, but he mek out he c’ud. Den we sing crgjn, an’ den de pus’n pray. Law, fiow he prqy. I kneel down. Well, he jiray till ebery blessed bone in my poor ol’ body wrack wid pain. Neber heerd no such pra’r ’bout heb’n, an’ all de niggers goin’ roun’ wid crowns ob glory on deir heads, an’ harps un’r deir ahrris. an’ WaTkliV on streets oh gol’ a-flappin* deir wings an’ praisin’ de Livwd. Der> he preach. Neber heerd no siclv preachin.’ He pouni’ de Bible, an’ preach ’bout de crowns ob glory, an’ de harps, uh’ wings, an’ streets ob gol’ an’ praisin’ de Lawd. an’ libin’on milk an’ horicy—milk an’ honey!" "As dinner I t’ought I go blown to de chu’ch by de canawl ’n’ habe nurr’ opnnujnian ’n’ sot oiar down in front argin. More darkies dcre ’n’ dcy w s it de 01’ Fo’t Chu’ch. Lawsy me bow dey did jam in ’n’ lnost’ trumple one nurr’ un’er foot. Bleniby Fa Qt»Hms Frazier he come in ’n’ dess march dpwn de sontcr aisle, wid de sjiinv silk hit dess lak it been rubbed wid er’tiilfer dip, het’ high upside he ol’ baF head ,’p’ he head run right up back like a too mattermillion. lie walk tip in do pulpit ’n’ open de bohk, *n’ gib out er hymn. We all sing ’n’ be rend de teX’. Den he pray bout twice long Johnson did in de mawnin. Deq we sing an he preach.' Neber huril nD'rich noWbar. Il war all bout dyin’ ‘n'd’dih’ to heab’n. ’n’ walking de golden streets wid our wings a flap]>in,' like young rooster on a dung heap.' ‘tp a twaiiig'ih’ on 'de harps, .’h’ pralsili’ ‘de' Lawtl 1 fbr eber ’n’ eber< ’n’ epten milk honuy, milk an bpney. ; Nuilin jblsc,, np cqrn bread, no no fried chicken, no r Sher bacon, her digs, nufhti but'milk tun honey. Mpum Ljzn, visibly swelled, presed Ijidlgnattrtri. “W’y. Miss Fannw’en yd’ mn was er young lady, long fo’ she .met de kunn’l, sfio used ter stpn’ all us pdaninnies up In a row ebery Monday rnmVhin''we’h alive ’n’ ddse' us’’’Grid wormwood, milk ;m’ honey, wbmnwdiod. milk gn’ honey. ’N’ ebery time I hears anybody say milk > n’ honey 1 feels lak I mus’ gkg ’h’ t’row np." It may not be generally known- that Sol. Smith Russoll is a son-in-law of Willliam T. Adams ("Oliver Oplic,’!) whose writings are familiar to every child in tho country. Russell and Adams were in business together ten years ago at Minneapolis where they ran a publishing house. It is hot probable that the venture was a :e.sb as Russell is again on the auge (where Im belongs) while Adams has apparently gone into retirement.