“So Henry ’n’int his head wid de sap out’n de big grapevime des ha’f way ‘twix’ de quarters en de big house, en de goopher nebber wuk agin him dat summer.  But de beatenes’ thing you eber see happen ter Henry.  Up ter dat time he wuz ez ball ez a sweeten’ ’tater, but des ez soon ez de young leaves begun ter come out on de grapevimes, de ha’r begun ter grow out on Henry’s head, en by de middle er de summer he had de bigges’ head er ha’r on de plantation.  Befo’ dat, Henry had tol’able good ha’r ‘roun’ de aidges, but soon ez de young grapes begun ter come, Henry’s ha’r begun to quirl all up in little balls, des like dis yer reg’lar grapy ha’r, en by de time de grapes got ripe his head look des like a bunch er grapes.  Combin’ it did n’ do no good; he wuk at it ha’f de night wid er Jim Crow[1], en think he git it straighten’ out, but in de mawnin’ de grapes ’ud be dere des de same.  So he gin it up, en tried ter keep de grapes down by havin’ his ha’r cut sho’t.

[Footnote 1:  A small card, resembling a currycomb in construction, and used by negroes in the rural districts instead of a comb.]

“But dat wa’n’t de quares’ thing ’bout de goopher.  When Henry come ter de plantation, he wuz gittin’ a little ole an stiff in de j’ints.  But dat summer he got des ez spry en libely ez any young nigger on de plantation; fac’, he got so biggity dat Mars Jackson, de oberseah, ha’ ter th’eaten ter whip ‘im, ef he did n’ stop cuttin’ up his didos en behave hisse’f.  But de mos’ cur’ouses’ thing happen’ in de fall, when de sap begin ter go down in de grapevimes.  Fus’, when de grapes ’uz gethered, de knots begun ter straighten out’n Henry’s ha’r; en w’en de leaves begin ter fall, Henry’s ha’r ‘mence’ ter drap out; en when de vimes ‘uz bar’, Henry’s head wuz baller ’n it wuz in de spring, en he begin ter git ole en stiff in de j’ints ag’in, en paid no mo’ ’tention ter de gals dyoin’ er de whole winter.  En nex’ spring, w’en he rub de sap on ag’in, he got young ag’in, en so soopl en libely dat none er de young niggers on de plantation could n’ jump, ner dance, ner hoe ez much cotton ez Henry.  But in de fall er de year his grapes ‘mence’ ter straighten out, en his j’ints ter git stiff, en his ha’r drap off, en de rheumatiz begin ter wrastle wid ’im.

“Now, ef you ’d ‘a’ knowed ole Mars Dugal’ McAdoo, you ’d ‘a’ knowed dat it ha’ ter be a mighty rainy day when he could n’ fine sump’n fer his niggers ter do, en it ha’ ter be a mighty little hole he could n’ crawl thoo, en ha’ ter be a monst’us cloudy night when a dollar git by him in de dahkness; en w’en he see how Henry git young in de spring en ole in de fall, he ‘lowed ter hisse’f ez how he could make mo’ money out’n Henry dan by wukkin’ him in de cotton-fiel’.  ‘Long de nex’ spring, atter de sap ‘mence’ ter rise, en Henry ’n’int ’is head en sta’ted fer ter git young en soopl, Mars Dugal’ up ’n tuk Henry ter town, en sole ’im fer fifteen hunder’ dollars.  Co’se de man w’at bought Henry did n’