JUSTICE—­Uncle John, did you see
what killed Sam’s cow?

NEGRO—­Co’ose Uh shum. (Of) course I saw him.

JUSTICE—­What was it, Uncle
John?

NEGRO—­Dat black debble you-all (It was) that black devil you-all runnin’ tru we lan’.  Nigga duh (are) running through our land. 
(A) nigger (fireman) he
stan’ deh, duh po’ coal stands there (and) he pours coal in eh stomach. into its stomach.  Buckra duh sit up on eh seat, (A) white man (engineer)
he sits up on his seat.
duh smoke eh cigah, an’ ebry (and) he smokes his cigar, and every tahme eh twis’ eh tail eh run fasteh. time he twists its (engine’s) tail it An’ runs faster.  And eh screams dis lak uh pantuh.  Eben it screams just like a panther.  Even w’en eh git tuh de station, eh stan’ when it gets to the station, it stands tuh de station an’ seh:  “Kyan-stop! at the station and says:  “Can’t-stop! Kyan-stop! Kyan-stop!” Can’t-stop! Can’t-stop!”

Sam cow binna browse down deh Sam’s cow was browsing down there tuh Bull Head Crick.  Eh ram eh to (at) Bull Head Creek.  It (engine)
rammed its
nose innum, an’ eh bussum wahde nose into it (the cow), and it
busted him wide
loose.  Eh t’row eh intrus on de loose (open).  It threw its entrails
on the
reyel on de cross-tie, an’ clean-up rails, on the cross-ties, and clean up on de tele_gram_ pole. on the telegraph pole.

Mrs. Leiding (Harriette Kershaw Leiding), of Charleston, has done a fine service to lovers of Old Charleston, and its ways, in collecting and publishing in pamphlet form a number of the cries of the negro street vendors.  Of these I shall rob Mrs. Leiding’s booklet of but one example—­the cry of a little negro boy, a peddler of shrimp ("swimp"), who stood under a window in the early morning and sang: 

[Music: 

An’ a Daw-try Daw! an’ a swimp-y raw! an’ a Daw-try Daw-try Daw-try Raw Swimp.]

While on the subject of the Charleston negro I must not neglect two of his superstitions.  One is his belief that a two-dollar bill is unlucky.  The curse may be removed only by tearing off a corner of the bill.  The other is that it is unlucky to hand any one a pin.  A Charleston lady told me that when she was motoring and wished to pin her hat or her veil, she could never get her negro chauffeur to hand her pins.  Instead he would stick them in the laprobe, or in the sleeve of his coat, whence she could pick them out herself.  Another lady told me of the case of an old black slave who lived years ago on a plantation on the Santee River, owned by her family.  This slave, who was a very powerful, taciturn and high-tempered man, had a curious habit of disappearing for about half an hour each day.