The task is indeed a difficult one, they
being as unruly as an excited Congress. They gambol round the door,
make pert faces at old mamma, and seem as happy as snakes in the
spring sun. Some are in a nude state, others have bits of frocks
covering hapless portions of their bodies; they are imps of mischief
personified, yet our heart bounds with sympathy for them. Alive with
comicality, they move us, almost unconsciously, to fondle them. And
yet we know not why we would fondle the sable "rascals." One knot is
larking on the grass, running, toddling, yelling, and hooting;
another, ankle-deep in mud, clench together and roll among the
ducks, work their clawy fingers through the tufts of each other's
crispy hair, and enjoy their childish sports with an air of genial
happiness; while a third sit in a circle beside an oak tree, playing
with "Dash," whose tail they pull without stint. "Dash" is the
faithful and favourite dog; he rather likes a saucy young "nigger,"
and, while feeling himself equal to the very best in the clan, will
permit the small fry, without resenting the injury, to pull his
tail.
It being "ration day," we must describe the serving, that being an
interesting phase of plantation life. Negroes have gathered into
motley groups around two weatherbeaten store-houses--the overseer
has retired to his apartment-when they wait the signal from the head
driver, who figures as master of ceremonies. One sings:---"Jim Crack
corn, an' I don't care, Fo'h mas'r's gone away! way! way!" Another
is croaking over the time he saved on his task, a third is trying to
play a trick with the driver (come the possum over him), and a third
unfolds the scheme by which the extra for whiskey and molasses was
raised.
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