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Life and Labors of a Poor Sinner
AUTHOR: | Dalton, Tolbert S. |
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CHAPTER VIII
One day grandfather and grandmother went on a visit to some of the neighbors, and left "General" and me there to look after things. After they had got on their horses and started off, grandmother stopped and called back, "Tolbert, don't you and "General" bother that jar of cream in the corner.: I said, "All right;" but they were hardly out of sight until I said to "General," "Let's have some of that cream to drink," and he agreed. (We perhaps would not have thought of the cream if she had not mentioned it.) We went into the house and never stopped to get a cup or glass to dip it out. I said to "General," "You hold it over while I drink, then I will hold it while you drink." "General" took hold; and I got down on my knees and drank to my satisfaction. Then I took hold, "General" got on his knees, and as I started to tilt the jar, my hold slipped. Over it went and the cream scattered all over the floor. We looked at each other for a moment and neither of us spoke a word.
But it was a clear case that we could not pick it up; so we got scared and broke for the woods, and stayed out until late at night. When we could stay out no longer we sneaked back to the house and into the room where grandfather and grandmother were sitting, and slipped around next to the wall. They were both looking at us; but we slipped into our room and went to bed. We were soon asleep, and never woke until next morning, when grandfather had me out on the floor, and was making a switch talk across my back and I was squalling for dear life. I looked toward the bed, and "General" was sitting about the middle, with his hair almost standing straight up, and he was rubbing his eyes, fully realizing that his turn was next. So when grandfather got through with me, he reached up and hauled "General" out (having set me up in one corner of the room to witness the next performance) and after he had given "General" about the same as he did me, he said, "I don't suppose that tasted as good as the cream." But we were not at all disposed to argue the case with him, knowing that he had so much the advantage of us in proof texts.
Sometime after this we had company at our house, and grandmother made pumpkin bread for dinner. I was very fond of pumpkin bread and was afraid there would not be enough to go around. I knew I had to wait; so I climbed up on top of the chimney (which was only a stick and mud affair), to the room they were using for a dining room at tht time, and I parted the boards so I could look down between them and see how the pumpkin bread was going. I saw it was melting away very fast, and felt that I must say something in self-defense, so I yelloed out, "Don't eat up all of that pumpkin bread." Grandfather looked around and said, "Never mind, young man, I will give you pumpkin bread."
So after the company were gone, he took me out to a peach tree, and broke off three of four watersprouts, and oh, my! The pumpkin bread he gave me was a plenty, and if my memory is not greatly at fault, the taste was not at all pleasant. And ever since that memorable occasion, I have not particularly cared for pumpkin bread; my taste seemed to have changed under the pressure of the peach tree sprouts.
At another time I saw an old lady, who lived some two or three miles from us down the creek, coming up smoking her pipe and grunting and brushing her hair back with her hands, as was her custom at almost every move. So I went and hid myself under the stile, in front of the house, and waited for her to come up; and just as she mounted the stile I struck it with a rock right under her feet and yelled as loud as I could, and I never saw an old lady jump so high in all my life. Her pipe fell out of her mouth and she ran for the house as hard as she could go, and you may rest assured it was fun for me. I then went into the house. We had just finished dinner, and she was invited to eat, mother telling her that there was plenty except the bread. There had been left a piece of corn bread about the size of a woman's fist. That old lady sat down and ate a large dish of turnips, with fat meat in abundance; and when she was through with her dinner, about half of that piece of bread was left. Mother said to her, "Aunt Betty, you don't eat much bread."
"No, bless you, honey. I don't keer for bread when thar's so many other good things goin'."
This we boys had for a saying for many years after that. Poor old Aunt Betty has long since gone to her long hom, and I hope rest in heaven; but I must say that such a gorge of turnips and fat meat, I have never seen eaten by a living mortal since, yet it did not seem to hurt her. I found her pipe, she lit it and started home, smoking and grunting as she went.
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