“Mrs. Leckler,” he said, “this is nothing less than a judgment on me for teaching a nigger to read and write.  I disobeyed the law of my state and, as a result, not only lost my nigger, but furnished the Yankees with a smart officer to help them fight the South.  Mrs. Leckler, I have sinned—­and been punished.  But I am content, Mrs. Leckler; it all came through my kindness of heart,—­and your mistaken advice.  But, oh, that ingrate, that ingrate!”

THE CASE OF ‘CA’LINE’

A KITCHEN MONOLOGUE

The man of the house is about to go into the dining-room when he hears voices that tell him that his wife has gone down to give the “hired help” a threatened going over.  He quietly withdraws, closes the door noiselessly behind him and listens from a safe point of vantage.

One voice is timid and hesitating; that is his wife.  The other is fearlessly raised; that is her majesty, the queen who rules the kitchen, and from it the rest of the house.

This is what he overhears: 

“Well, Mis’ Ma’tin, hit do seem lak you jes’ bent an’ boun’ to be a-fin’in’ fault wid me w’en de Lawd knows I’s doin’ de ve’y bes’ I kin.  What ‘bout de brekfus’?  De steak too done an’ de ’taters ain’t done enough!  Now, Miss Ma’tin, I jes’ want to show you I cooked dat steak an’ dem ‘taters de same lengt’ o’ time.  Seems to me dey ought to be done de same.  Dat uz a thick steak, an’ I jes’ got hit browned thoo nice.  What mo’d you want?

“You didn’t want it fried at all?  Now, Mis’ Ma’tin, ’clah to goodness!  Who evah hyeah de beat o’ dat?  Don’t you know dat fried meat is de bes’ kin’ in de worl’?  W’y, de las’ fambly dat I lived wid—­dat uz ol’ Jedge Johnson—­he said dat I beat anybody fryin’ he evah seen; said I fried evahthing in sight, an’ he said my fried food stayed by him longer than anything he evah e’t.  Even w’en he paid me off he said it was ’case he thought somebody else ought to have de benefit of my wunnerful powahs.  Huh, ma’am, I’s used to de bes’.  De Jedge paid me de highes’ kin’ o’ comperments.  De las’ thing he say to me was, ’Ca’line, Ca’line,’ he say, ‘yo’ cookin’ is a pa’dox.  It is crim’nal, dey ain’t no ‘sputin’ dat, but it ain’t action’ble.’  Co’se, I didn’t unnerstan’ his langidge, but I knowed hit was comperments, ‘case his wife, Mis’ Jedge Johnson, got right jealous an’ told him to shet his mouf.

“Dah you goes.  Now, who’d ‘a’ thought dat a lady of yo’ raisin’ an unnerstannin’ would ‘a’ brung dat up.  De mo’nin’ you come an’ ketch me settin’ down an’ de brekfus not ready, I was a-steadyin’.  I’s a mighty han’ to steady, Mis’ Ma’tin.  ‘Deed I steadies mos’ all de time.  But dat mo’nin’ I got to steadyin’ an’ aftah while I sot down an’ all my troubles come to my min’.  I sho’ has a heap o’ trouble.  I jes’ sot thaih a-steadyin’ ’bout ’em an’ a-steadyin’ tell bime-by, hyeah you comes.