LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * 
 
EVEN SISTER ELEPHANTOPUS AMAZONIA WAS THERE 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 BY 
 
 ROYAL DIXON 
 
 Author of "The Human Side of Plants," etc. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 L. S. GEER 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * 
 
 Copyright, 1915, by 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 
 
 Published June, 1915 
 
 All rights reserved 
 Printed in U. S. A. 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 To my friend 
 RAYMOND COMSTOCK 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS *.>.-*''*.* 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I HANTS Is EVERYWHARES . . . . n 
 
 II CUPID'S PROGNOSTICATIONS ... 22 
 
 III WATCH ME, WIMMEN; WATCH ME! 34 
 
 IV VENGEANCE AM SWEET! .... 46 
 
 V LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE .... 63 
 
 VI JEST MIDDLIN' PEART 90 
 
 VII KAINT BE FO'CED in 
 
 VIII SISTAH SIMMONS' TROUSSEAU TRIP . 123 
 
 IX B'LEEVES POW'FULLY IN MARRIAGE 137 
 
 X SISTAH SIMMONS' SANCTIFICATION . 159 
 
 XI How VINEY CUM THROUGH . . .188 
 
 XII DONE GONE AND FO'CED ME! . . 200 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * # * 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * # * * 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Even Sister Elephantopus Amazonia 
 
 was there Frontispiece 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 She scrummaged over chairs and benches like a 
 
 squirrel 20 
 
 "I sees a weddin', shoo I does!" .... 30 
 
 "Doin' a little gardenin' on de Sabbath Day?" 36 
 
 She made just one grab at him 48 
 
 "I'm ready for dat chariot to come !" . 72 
 
 "I'se gwine to come every night" .... 106 
 
 "Yo' ain't gwine to put all dem t'ings in my 
 
 machine?" 130 
 
 "Hit's too bad, but I must bleed dis po' co'pse" 152 
 "Yo' sholy ain't gwine to kill me?" . . .182 
 
 "Glory! Glory! I've got it at las' !" ... 196 
 
 Every imaginable good thing to eat . . . 206 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * 
 
HANTS IS EVERYWHARES * * 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 HANTS IS EVERYWHARES 
 
 hants has sholy diskivered me 
 at las', Miss Betty," said Aunt 
 Moriah, ashen-faced and trembling with 
 emotion, as her young mistress entered 
 the dining room. "I declar' to goodness 
 de sun never gwine to sot on my haid 
 again in dat kitchen!" 
 
 "What is the matter, Aunt Moriah?" 
 asked Betty. 
 
 "De mattah is dis dat fool dog Bulger 
 done fotched de mos' curus lookin' var 
 mint in dat kitchen I ever hearn tell of in 
 all my born days. Pruneville is got mo' 
 hoodoos den any place I ever seed, 
 ii 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 Hants is everywhares. Good Gord! dat 
 quaar lookin' thing had long gray har on 
 its tail, and its legs looked jes' like sassa 
 fras bean poles ; its ears stood up like two 
 little tombstones, and dem eyes . . . he'p 
 me Lawd! Dey starred right at me, as if 
 to say, 'Moriah Simmons, wharfo' am yo' 
 heahF Lordy, Lordy, what if dat rap 
 scallion wid dem jelly draps of sorrer in 
 its eyes had goofed at me? ... I was 
 mos' skeered to deaff! No mo' cookin' 
 fo' me in any place whar hants has actu 
 ally materialized; fo' signs is signs." 
 
 Betty heard sounds of laughter from 
 outside. She glanced quickly through 
 the window just in time to see two figures 
 scrambling over the garden fence. She 
 realized at once what had happened. 
 Henry and Bert, returning from their 
 hunting trip, had propped up the wolf 
 12 
 
HANTS IS EVERYWHARES * * 
 
 they had killed, in the old negress's 
 kitchen. But the girl tried in vain to 
 convince Aunt Moriah of the absurdity 
 of her superstitious belief. As a last re 
 sort she appealed to her sympathetic na 
 ture. 
 
 "Surely, Aunt Moriah, you would not 
 leave us at this time, would you? I have 
 already invited my friend, Mr. Neill, the 
 artist, to dinner. As you know, it would 
 be impossible to get any one to do the 
 cooking at this late hour. No one but 
 you can fix things right." 
 
 Aunt Moriah was silent a minute and 
 Betty thought she had touched the right 
 chord, but the old negress began, 
 
 "Lord bless yo' heart, Miss Betty, yo' 
 knows ef dey was enybody in dis worl' I 
 would stay fo' hit would be you. Kase I 
 done fetched you up, and you and my po' 
 
 13 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 little Abe was born on de same day jes' 
 like twinses. Po' little boy, I guess he's 
 playing wif de little angel chillen, look- 
 in' white as any of dem. Ef I could a' 
 got dar in time when Hiram Green's 
 mule kicked him, I mout a' saved him 
 wif prayer and mustard, but hit 'twas too 
 late. Honey, don't you know I some 
 times 'magines I can almos' see little Abe 
 playing wif dem soap bubbles and laffin' 
 right at me when I stands by de wash tub. 
 "But I ain't told you 'bout dem pun-' 
 kins. 'Tother day as I was passin' by 
 dat smoke house door, not thinkin' 'bout 
 nothin', I seed twenty-three punkins all 
 sottin' in a row wif two terrible lookin' 
 bones crossed in front of dem. Nothin' 
 but a hant could fix 'em dat way. I was 
 mos' skeered to deafT. I'se sholy leavin' 
 dis place to-day. I fears heavenly ven- 
 
HANTS IS EVERYWHARES * * 
 
 jans will be heaped on me ef I stays." 
 "Nonsense, Aunt Moriah, you are not 
 
 going to leave us after having been here 
 
 eighteen years." 
 
 "Yes, I is gwine. Dis ain't no time fo' 
 
 argifyin' and disputin'. What I sez, I 
 sez, fer signs is signs!" 
 
 "I assure you it is only some more of 
 Bert's mischievous pranks. No harm 
 can come from a dead wolf." 
 
 "From a dead wolf! A mouty heap 
 of harm, if dat dead wolf is a dead hant. 
 Huh, I'd jes' as soon boad in a graveyard 
 15 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 as in dat kitchen," she sighed as she 
 mopped the perspiration from her fore 
 head. 
 
 Aunt Moriah's appearance was pitiful ; 
 her careworn face seemed ten years older 
 than the day before. Her voice was 
 filled with emotion as she said: 
 
 "Well, honey, hit 'pears like everything 
 is gwine 'ginst me of late. I has sich a 
 misery in my lef knee jint, I spose I'll 
 have to git me some mo' goose ile. Dey 
 sez goose ile is pow'ful good fo' ailments. 
 Yessum, hit seems like trubbles comes like 
 twins or triplets, never alone. All dem 
 little chickens is got de pip jes' cause I 
 forgot to shake de sifter over dem when 
 dey first hatched out, and a hawk flew 
 down yestiddy and caught de bigges', 
 blackes', goldernes' pullet we got. I 
 throwed skillets and pans at him, but 
 16 
 
HANTS IS EVERYWHARES * * 
 
 'twarnt' no use, he done nibbed her. 
 Yessum, I'm feelin' mouty po'ly to-day, 
 I done worked too hard at dat chuch fes 
 tival las' week. I spose I wouldn't 
 'zerted myself so much, but Brudder Sin- 
 killer is a po' widderer and I feels so 
 sorry for him, bein' as I am a po' lone 
 Christian widder myself. But dis day 
 warn't made for talkin' ; hit was made for 
 movin', I mus' obey dem signs." 
 
 "I'm awfully sorry, Aunt Moriah, that 
 you're not feeling as well as usual. Now 
 tell me what else those boys have been 
 doing to worry you." 
 
 She had walked to the window, and 
 after hesitating a minute heaved a sigh 
 as she said: 
 
 "Dey ain't specially pestered me, but 
 I would like to know who fixed dem pun- 
 kins in a row." 
 
 17 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * # * * * 
 
 " Pumpkins 1 What do you mean?" 
 "Jes' come wif me to dat smoke 
 house, honey, and you'll see what I 
 
 means." 
 
 "Don't let yourself be disturbed by 
 such foolish superstitions! Perhaps Bert 
 did it, just to aggravate you." 
 
 Then, to please her, Betty walked arm 
 and arm with her to the smoke house 
 door. 
 
 Sure enough, there were twenty-three 
 pumpkins, neatly arranged in a row, and 
 in front of them near the door lay two 
 big bones crossed. Aunt Moriah made 
 another awful discovery! 
 
 "Well, I 'clar fo' Gord ef dem bones 
 ain't kivered in blood. I wouldn't tech 
 a thing in dis smoke house for all de 
 money in Pruneville, for signs is signs." 
 
 Then making a cross-mark in the sand 
 18 
 
HANTS IS EVERYWHARES 
 
 with her foot, she spat in it and walked 
 quickly back to the kitchen. 
 
 Things were indeed wrong! Some 
 thing had to be done, Betty decided, and 
 done at once, for 
 Aunt Moriah had 
 packed everything of 
 hers from a feather 
 bed to a favorite cal 
 ico quilt. Used to 
 
 her moods as Betty was, the situation wor 
 ried her. 
 
 It was late Saturday afternoon, and 
 
 Bert could not resist the temptation to 
 
 play his final prank. Anticipating that 
 
 Aunt Moriah would go to the little log 
 
 19 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * # * * # 
 
 cabin church, as usual, for prayers, he 
 preceded her, taking with him an old 
 speaking trumpet and concealing himself 
 behind one of the benches. Sure enough, 
 she came, and began a long prayer: 
 
 ". . . Yea, though I walks troo de 
 valley of de shadow of deafT, I'll fear no 
 Debil. I want you to pint out de bes' 
 way for me, Lord, and tell me what to 
 do." 
 
 At this moment, as if from every cor 
 ner of the little church came a rumbling, 
 bellowing sound, which Aunt Moriah al 
 ways vowed to be the "rushin' of a mighty 
 wind," and a deep voice intoned: 
 
 "Moriah Simmons, stay with the Mor 
 gans, and be kind to little Bert!" 
 
 That was too much for Aunt Moriah! 
 Old as she was, she scrummaged over 
 chairs and benches like a squirrel, and 
 20 
 
SHE SCRUMMAGED OVER CHAIRS AND BENCHES LIKE A SQUIRREL 
 
HANTS IS EVERYWHARES * * 
 
 fifteen minutes later was back in the 
 kitchen, paring potatoes for supper, ap 
 parently entirely satisfied. She felt that 
 the Lord had spoken to her. And when 
 she saw Betty she said, in a tone of utter, 
 absolute finality : 
 
 "Honey, I has decided to stay, kase 
 de signs is changed." 
 
 21 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS ' * * * * * * 
 
 i 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 CUPID'S PROGNOSTICATIONS 
 
 T had been an unusual week at 
 the Morgans' home. Betty's lover, 
 Henry Neill, had spent the entire week 
 with them, and on this day he was to 
 leave. As he and Bert drove off to the 
 station, he waved a fond farewell to 
 Betty, and Bert threw her a kiss in jest. 
 Betty rushed to the kitchen to tell Aunt 
 Moriah all about his wonderful paint 
 ings, and his charming conversation: to 
 find a sure and ready listener to her 
 happy confidences, in fact. 
 
 Since Mrs. Morgan's death, Aunt Mo 
 riah had assumed the entire guardianship 
 22 
 
CUPID'S PROGNOSTICATIONS 
 
 of Betty and Bert. She never refused 
 either of them a hearing when they came 
 to her with secrets most important 
 and never-to-be-repeated secrets, of 
 course, about their love affairs. Her old- 
 fashioned kitchen, with its white floors 
 and spotless big table, near which sat her 
 aged spinning-wheel, the hum of which 
 had accompanied many of her "white 
 chillen's" confessions, was really a place 
 of miracles. Many were the troubles 
 she had listened to there, and, with 
 comforting words, had added, as a final 
 balm of consolation, ginger bread and 
 coffee of her own making. And many a 
 time, as children, had they entered its 
 sacred walls to unburden their hearts, and 
 had left it with fresh hopes and smiling 
 faces. But now childish troubles, of toys 
 and marbles, had passed away and 
 
 23 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * <* * * * 
 
 greater ones had taken their places. It 
 was no longer broken dolls but broken 
 hearts, forsooth! 
 
 In the last few months Betty was a 
 different girl: something had changed 
 her completely. Her voice seemed to 
 have suddenly grown more musical, and 
 her soft brown eyes had more of a sparkle ; 
 they showed more sympathy, more love, 
 more hope, new eyes! Never before 
 
 had she cared so much for the roses and 
 the mocking birds; nor could she speak 
 long without mention of Henry Neill. 
 Aunt Moriah, of course, knew from the 
 24 
 
CUPID'S PROGNOSTICATIONS 
 
 look in Betty's eyes that a transformation 
 was taking place in her heart. Betty was 
 no longer a child. It was not just some 
 neighbor's son, an old school friend, but 
 Henry Neill, the handsome young artist 
 from New Orleans, who was making this 
 change in Betty; and Aunt Moriah knew 
 only too well that he was not coming three 
 hundred miles without serious intentions. 
 On this occasion the old negress was out 
 spoken in her sympathy. 
 
 "You jest looks like you was longin' to 
 tell me somethin', honey," said Aunt Mo 
 riah. "I bleeves Mistah Neill is in love 
 wid you." 
 
 Betty insisted upon knowing on what 
 ground she based her opinion, whereupon 
 Aunt Moriah declared: 
 
 "He smiled at you in sich a winsome 
 way, and dem big blue eyes of his'n jest 
 25 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * ji * 
 
 followed you everywhares you went, like 
 a butterfly after de honeysuckle, when you 
 was gatherin' dem roses." 
 
 "Well, I do like him," said Betty blush- 
 ingly. "And he wishes to come again 
 next month ; but for some strange reason 
 father doesn't seem to care for him. Per 
 haps it is because he is not a business man 
 and set on making money. Father seems 
 to think that painting is for women, with 
 lots of time on their hands, and no other 
 work to do. But I know Mr. Neill will 
 become a great artist," she ended reflec 
 tively, as she gazed out of the window 
 into the distance. 
 
 Aunt Moriah had listened in silence, 
 and her face wore an expression of the 
 greatest seriousness. Finally she spoke 
 up: 
 
 "Lawdy marcy, chile! Money haint 
 26 
 
CUPID'S PROGNOSTICATIONS 
 
 the hull thing, quality counts in our fam 
 ily! And dem Neills sholy is got it!" she 
 asserted with a dignified wave of the 
 hand. "Dese heah folks at Pruneville 
 ain't never seed de real thing," she 
 explained condescendingly. Betty, of 
 course, accepted the dictum with due con 
 sideration. 
 
 "Lawdy, yes, I'se knowed Henry Neill 
 since he wasn't bigger than a cucumber. 
 I use to tote him round in my arms nussin' 
 and motherin' him. He was de sweetest, 
 teensiest, little baby I ever seed. I done 
 told his maw dat he was gwine to grow up 
 to be a pow'ful man, and marry some 
 queen jest like you. I knowed hit all de 
 time. He was sholy bo'n for greatness! 
 I ain't sprised dat he am an artist, kase 
 every time he could git to de ink bottle 
 after he was done growin' up, he'd jest 
 27 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 smear hit all over creation, and make the 
 quaarest lookin' things. Dem was de 
 signs of de future jenius; shore as I'm 
 bo'n dem was hit! 
 
 "One day he done drawed a big dorg 
 on my white apron wid a little goose 
 fedder, while I was churnin'. His maw 
 wanted to whip him, but I 'lowed de 
 artist had to have somethin' to paint on. 
 I told his maw dat he was jest as shoo to 
 be an artist as a goose is shoo to hatch 
 outen a goose egg. And I don't see no 
 reason why he wouldn't make you a pow'- 
 ful good husband. 
 
 "Co'se, I ain't going to be hard on 
 Marse Lije's jedgment, but I speck yo' 
 paw done forgot when he was co'tin' Miss 
 Fannie, yo' maw. He was allus comin' 
 to me fo' advice, kase he was so young 
 dat he hadn't perambulated too far wif 
 28 
 
CUPID'S PROGNOSTICATIONS 
 
 Solomon. I knowed his family long 
 befo' he was bo'n. 
 
 "Yo' grandma and me done growed up 
 together. We was bo'n almost on de same 
 day. My mammy nussed bofe of us de 
 same time. What one got, de tother shoo 
 got some! When one cry, we bofe cry. 
 Ah, many de times we played together 
 makin' frog-houses in de sand! 
 
 "Po' Miss Fannie, hit's many de weary 
 day since dey laid her to rest over dar on 
 de hillside. But, law chile, I sees her 
 yit; wif her big brown 
 eyes, an' smilin' face, an' 
 dainty hands!" 
 
 The old negress gazed 
 out of the window as 
 though she was living 
 over the days gone by. 
 Then she continued as she chuckled aloud : 
 29 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * # * * # # 
 
 "I recomember when Marse Lije fust 
 met old mistus. Hit warn't no time till 
 he commence a-co'tin' her. Den he led 
 her to de altar; and den he 'membered 
 dem scriptures what sez, To' must multi 
 ply and replentish de yearth'; and yo' 
 and Marse Bert was given as his 'lowance. 
 
 "Marse Lije 'gins to prosper and make 
 lots of money; den troubles and tribula 
 tions come, and one day de angels come 
 down and got yo' maw. De very last 
 thing she sez to me was: 'Moriah, take 
 care of Betty and Bert.' Lawd he'p me, 
 dat's what I'm tryin' to do; fo' I is a strict 
 member of de Zion Evangelical Chu'ch." 
 
 "But about Mr. Neill?" said Betty. 
 
 "Oh, yessum, I likes Henry Neill's 
 
 looks! And if Marse Lije don't watch 
 
 out I'll have to remind him dat I is yo' 
 
 mammy." The tears had come to Aunt 
 
 30 
 
"I SEES A WEDDIN', SHOO I DOES !' 
 

 CUPID'S PROGNOSTICATIONS 
 
 Moriah's eyes, but she tried to keep them 
 back by changing the subject. 
 
 "Honey, won't you have a nice cup of 
 hot coffee? Hit won't take but a minute 
 to bile it." 
 
 Betty nodded her head, and in a few 
 minutes Aunt Moriah poured her a cup 
 of delicious hot coffee. Betty's mind was 
 on her victory and her heart beat high, 
 for Aunt Moriah's sympathy was per 
 petual, and surely the two could change 
 her father's views concerning Henry 
 Neill. 
 
 Aunt Moriah had just finished pouring 
 Betty's coffee when the idea of reading 
 the grounds occurred to her. 
 
 "Lemme see what's gwine to happen," 
 said the old negress, as she reached for 
 the cup. 
 
 "Oh, please do!" cried Betty. At this 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 moment she looked out of the window, 
 and saw her brother had returned, and 
 had some sort of an animal, apparently 
 his pet raccoon, tucked under his arm. 
 From the grin on Bert's face, she won 
 dered what was up. But the incident 
 was soon forgotten in the wonderful 
 prophecies seen by Aunt Moriah in the 
 coffee grounds. 
 
 "I sees a weddin', shoo I does!" said 
 Aunt Moriah in tones of wonderment, as 
 she lifted her eyes to Betty. "De bride 
 groom looks pow'fully like Henry Neill, 
 and he'p me Gawd! I b'leeves you is de 
 blushin' bride. Yessum, shoo as I'm bo'n 
 you is hit! Huh, what does this mean? 
 I sees anudder weddin'! I dunno 
 what de tother one can be; but hit sholy 
 do look like de groom is Brudder Sin- 
 killer Sneezeweed!" 
 32 
 
CUPID'S PROGNOSTICATIONS 
 
 With a glad heart Betty arose to leave 
 the kitchen. It was hard for her to re 
 frain from asking more questions. But 
 Aunt Moriah had always been a prophet, 
 and there was no reason for doubting her 
 now. What did she mean about Brother 
 Sinkiller? Surely Aunt Moriah would 
 not marry again! But Betty was so full 
 of her own happiness that she gave no 
 further thought to the second part of the 
 prophecy. 
 
 She walked in the garden and hummed 
 to herself in nervous exultation. A smile 
 of fathomless content beamed from her 
 face as she watched the last red rays of 
 the sun disappear over the pine hills. 
 
 33 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 WATCH ME, WIMMEN ! WATCH ME ! 
 
 ON the following Sunday morning 
 Aunt Moriah was walking casually 
 through her flower garden, when she no 
 ticed that the weeds and grass were 
 crowding out her favorite dahlias. For 
 getful of the day, she began pulling up 
 the weeds. At this moment she suddenly 
 heard footsteps, and, looking up, saw 
 Brother Sinkiller Sneezeweed, the pastor 
 of the Zion Evangelical Church, not ten 
 feet away, watching her through the rail 
 ings. 
 
 "Mornin', Sistah Simmons," he said, 
 raising his battered silk hat, given him 
 
 34 
 
WATCH ME, WIMMEN! * * * 
 
 by his old master in slavery days. His 
 face plainly showed embarrassment at his 
 discovery of Sabbath-breaking. "How is 
 you dis beautiful Sabbath mornin'?" 
 He had a dignified, ministerial tone in his 
 aged voice. 
 
 "I'm jest poly," replied Aunt Moriah, 
 nervously. 
 
 "How am Miss Betty?" 
 
 "She's jest poly." 
 
 "How am Mistah Morgan?" 
 
 "He's jest poly." 
 
 The old negress was mortified at hav 
 ing been caught working in her garden 
 on Sunday! It was the first time in her 
 life that she had committed such a crime. 
 
 "How am Master Bert?" 
 
 "He's jest poly." 
 
 "Doin' a little gardenin' on de Sabbath 
 day, be ye, Sistah Simmons?" His tones 
 35 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 were sympathetic; he nervously thumped 
 
 on the palings. 
 
 "I jest caught a little grass on my shoes, 
 
 Brudder Sinkiller," said Aunt Moriah, 
 
 apologetically. 
 The pastor of the Zion Evangelical 
 
 Church looked worried. 
 "How air you, Brudder Sinkiller?" 
 
 queried Aunt Moriah, mindful of the 
 
 civilities due her pastor. 
 
 "I'm jest tolable, bless Gawd!" 
 "How air yo' old gray mare mule?" 
 "She's jest tolable, bless Gawd!" 
 "How air yo' young Berkshire shoats?" 
 "Dey all tolable, ceptin' de little runt 
 
 et too many turnips yestiddy, and I 
 
 thought sholy we'd have fresh sausage 
 
 meat to-day, but he's done got ovah hit." 
 "Won't you come roun' to de kitchen 
 
 and have a cup of coffee wif me?" 
 36 
 

 'DoiN' A LITTLE GARDENIN' ON DE SABBATH DAY?" 
 
WATCH ME, WIMMEN! <* * J 
 
 Brother Sinkiller responded to her cor 
 dial invitation by walking slowly around 
 the garden to the back door. He seated 
 himself in the old shuck-bottomed chair 
 proffered him, and, while Aunt Moriah 
 was warming over the cold biscuits and 
 boiling the coffee, he busied himself by 
 looking at the comforts of the kitchen. 
 How different from his scantily supplied 
 hut! 
 
 The walls were covered with sausages 
 hung up to dry. Strings of onions and 
 red peppers dangled from the ceiling; 
 barrels of sugar and molasses stood in the 
 corners, and above the big stove were rows 
 of shelves filled with jars of honey. Nor 
 did Brother Sinkiller's observant eyes fail 
 to take in the stalks of dried tobacco at 
 the farther end of this bountifully sup 
 plied kitchen. There was something in 
 
 37 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS # # <* 
 
 the very atmosphere that made him re 
 member the scripture that says: "It is 
 not well for man to be alone." 
 
 He was oppressed and sad, for ever 
 since his last wife, Hannah, had died, 
 things had been different. She had min 
 istered to all 
 
 J'i s7%g3H8 m "s comforts; 
 
 A,/ / , ^-r-r-^J Hfl^Sa^Zaf^W 
 
 w 
 ,/'**}& T\ small thing as 
 "M ^/ ^> \^ liehtine his 
 
 'I" 
 
 pipe, she had not neglected. But now 
 no one cared for him that is, in a com 
 forting way. Finally Brother Sneeze- 
 weed went to sleep in the big chair. 
 Then he commenced moaning and groan 
 ing in the most pitiful way. Aunt Mo- 
 
 38 
 
WATCH ME, WIMMEN! * * * 
 
 riah was terribly frightened, and thought 
 he was dying. She hurried to him. 
 
 "Lawdy! Lawdy! Brudder Sneeze- 
 weed, what am de mattah wid you?" she 
 exclaimed, as she shook him. 
 
 " 'Scuse me, Sistah Simmons, I was jest 
 havin' one of dem quaar spells, sorter like 
 de nightmares. I sleeps so poly dese 
 nights dat when I does git a chance to 
 have any real comfot, like what you has 
 offered me, I goes into sech a restful sleep 
 dat I has dem moanin' spells. Dey is 
 what mout be called 'lonesome fits,' dat 
 is, dey is caused by meditatin' too much 
 alone." 
 
 Now that he was out of all danger, 
 Aunt Moriah chuckled with laughter. 
 
 "Bring yo' cheer nearer dis table, 
 Brudder Sneezeweed, and satisfy yo' hun 
 ger, while we talks," said his hostess, sym- 
 
 39 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS # * * # # * 
 
 pathetically, as she poured the steaming 
 coffee. 
 
 " 'Scuse my gigglin', Brudder Sneeze- 
 weed, I sholy didn't feel indifferent to 
 yo' fits, I was jest so comfoted to have you 
 heah, dat I had to give 'spression to my 
 joy!" 
 
 "Dat's all right, Sistah Simmons, dem 
 is pow'ful funny spells. Yessum, I'll 
 have a little of dem cabbages, and some 
 mo' of dat tater pone. Dem spells 
 (jest a little heppin' of dem turnips, and 
 a little greens, please, mum). As I was 
 sayin', dem spells is caused from not git- 
 tin' (well, fo' Gawd, ef you ain't got 
 chicken leavin's!) Yessum, fits is is 
 (dat bread pone is pow'ful sweet)." 
 
 "Dis heah eatin's makes me shame, 
 Brudder Sneezeweed," said Aunt Mo- 
 riah, apologetically. "Since my last po' 
 40 
 
WATCH ME, WIMMEN1 * * * 
 
 husband died I has been so 'flicted wid 
 grief dat I'se kinder got discouraged wid 
 everything. Hits a wonder dat I ain't 
 had dem lonesome fits mysef. I s'pose 
 you know what it am to have sorrer?" 
 
 "Dat I does, Sistah Simmons; dat I 
 does ! I has comf oted many mo'ners, and 
 now heah I is a broken reed, lookin' fo' 
 comfot from a po' lone sorrerin' Christian 
 widder. De trufT is, I ort to be comfotin' 
 you. Dat I ort! 
 
 "As I was sayin' 'bout dem quaar spells, 
 hits sorrer dat has caused 'em; dat is, sor 
 rer and de lack ob sleep together." 
 
 "Wharfo' don't you sleep, Brudder 
 Sneezeweed? Is you 'flicted wid in- 
 somonia, or does you kinder git lonesome 
 fo' some real gawdly 'oman to call out 
 scripture to comfo't yo' troubled speer- 
 its?" 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * jt a 
 
 "Dat's de trouble, Sistah Simmons; 
 dat's de trouble! You has prognosticated 
 right. I needs jest sich an 'oman. I 
 kicks de bed kivers on de floo', and nearly 
 freezes to deaff. When I gits one of dem 
 spells, I tares all over de room, fittin' de 
 air. I'm an awful man f er to be around I" 
 
 "Does you take anything fo' dem 
 spells ?" asked Aunt Moriah. 
 
 "Jest 'casionally when I gits 'em pow'- 
 fully bad, den I takes a leetle teenchy bit 
 of toddy, what was left over from Sistah 
 Sophronia Snuffs funeral 'settin'-up.' " 
 
 "Dey says a little toddy is pow'ful good 
 fo' ailments," remarked Aunt Moriah. 
 
 "Yes, it do help to keep yo' speerits up," 
 he added. 
 
 "A man what have to 'zort and preach 
 like yo' does, needs a little something to 
 spur him on. But what you needs most, 
 42 
 
WATCH ME, WIMMEN! * * * 
 
 Brudder Sneezeweed, is a good 'oman to 
 share yo' sorrers; one dat has knowed sor- 
 rer herself. Dat's what you needs!" 
 
 "Dat's jest what I'm going to git, Sis- 
 tah Simmons, soon as I has mo'ned long 
 enough fo' my last wife, Hannah," said 
 Brother Sneezeweed, as he reached for 
 his hat. 
 
 "Praise Gawd fo' de comfot you 
 has been to me, Brudder Sneezeweed. 
 Whenevah you finds it convenient jest 
 come in and have a humble little snack 
 of vittles wid me; and if you feels like 
 hit, call out a little scripture to comfot 
 me. I is sich a po' lonely Christen wid- 
 der lady. Dat's de real 'ligion, to be com- 
 fortin' to each other in dey trials and 
 tribulations; and visit wid de widders 
 and orphins," she moralized as she gave 
 him a parting handshake. 
 
 43 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * 
 
 # * 
 
 "May de Lawd bless you, Sistah Sim 
 mons, fo' de nourishin' comfots you has 
 done gin to me, and fo' de Christen 
 speerit ip which it has been given. Now 
 
 I must git 
 over to de 
 chuch and 
 
 preach to my flock from de tex' 'Blessed is 
 dey dat mo'n, fo' dey shall be comfoted.' 
 I'se shoo gwine to give 'em a pow'ful ser 
 mon! I hopes to see you back in church 
 nex' Sunday, Sistah Simmons. Good 
 bye, beloved Sistah, good-bye." 
 
 44 
 
WATCH ME, WIMMEN! # * * 
 
 With this as a farewell, and a lingering 
 handshake, the Reverend Sinkiller hastily 
 disappeared down the road toward the 
 Zion Evangelical Church. 
 
 Aunt Moriah watched him until he 
 disappeared around the corner; then re 
 turning to the table, she began clearing 
 away the dishes. 
 
 "Watch me, wimmen! Watch me!" 
 she exclaimed. "Dis old lady is gwine to 
 walk off wif dat preacher! I 'clar fo' 
 Gawd, you po' old widders and gals ain't 
 got a smidgen of a chance to cop dat 
 preacher long as I'm onmarried! Jest 
 keep de dust outen' yo' eyes, and yo'll see 
 dat I gits him. Huh ! hits so easy to kotch 
 him dat I almos' hates to do hit!" she said, 
 as she chuckled with laughter. 
 
 45 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 VENGEANCE AM SWEET! 
 
 AT the age of fourteen Bert Morgan 
 had been sent to the Academy at 
 San Antonio, a boarding school, which 
 was supposed to divide, as between term 
 time and vacation, the responsibility of 
 guardianship with Aunt Moriah. There 
 he distinguished himself by taking the 
 lead in the most disreputable escapades 
 the Academy had ever known! Aunt 
 Moriah was hardly prepared to believe 
 the reported stories of his numerous 
 pranks. 
 
 After his return from school, however, 
 he developed a special weakness for tor- 
 
VENGEANCE AM SWEET! * <* 
 
 menting her. This was easy enough, for 
 she seemed to have associated some curi 
 ous fancy with almost every familiar ob 
 ject of her daily life; and the most trivial 
 action was directed by reference to un 
 seen spirits or "hants," who were always 
 on the lookout for an opportunity to harm 
 or annoy her. 
 
 One of her quaintest beliefs was re 
 garding the young pet raccoon, which a 
 neighbor's son had given to Bert. No 
 amount of persuasion could convince her 
 that the animal was not a reincarnation 
 of the Devil. This fact Bert knew, and 
 his readiness to take advantage of it 
 proved to be the main grief of his reli 
 gious, indulgent and ever faithful old 
 "black mammy." 
 
 He watched for an opportunity to play 
 another prank on her, as his last one with 
 
 47 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * # # 
 
 the wolf had been so successful as to win 
 even the applause of Betty. His vigi 
 lance was soon rewarded. 
 
 The kitchen door shut with a clash, and 
 Bert saw Aunt Moriah, with a basket on 
 her arm, going toward the grocery store. 
 He hastened to the barn, got the raccoon, 
 returned with him to the kitchen, opened 
 the oven door and placed him within. 
 This was an ideal spot for the coon, warm, 
 dark, and cozy, like his home in the old 
 barrel in the hay loft. In this warm 
 place he soon curled up and went to sleep. 
 
 After a while in came Aunt Moriah to 
 prepare supper. She built a fire in the 
 stove ; then washed the sweet potatoes pre 
 paratory to baking, as she hummed, "The 
 Old Ship of Zion," to the accompaniment 
 of the kettle. She bustled to the stove, 
 and opened the door where the coon was 
 
SHE MADE JUST ONE GRAB AT HIM 
 
VENGEANCE AM SWEET! * * 
 
 sleeping. Out he jumped, quick as light 
 ning, right over Aunt Moriah's head, and 
 rushed through the kitchen like a young 
 cyclone. She was so surprised that she 
 made just one grab at him, which made 
 the fur fly, then she rolled over on her 
 back, ogling her eyes like a scared owl, 
 and panting with fright. Finally with 
 an involuntary gasp she got up and folded 
 her hands in a gesture of silent despair. 
 
 "Golly! dat sholy was a b'ar! Gawd 
 help me ef hit didn't jump clear over my 
 haid, and den turn round and run right 
 twixt my legs. Ef I hadn't had my rab 
 bit foot in my stockin' I spose I'd a-been 
 hoodooed fo' life!" she mumbled, in trem 
 bling tones, as she began picking up the 
 potatoes. 
 
 "Hits jest a-dispensin' of providence 
 dat he ain't done gone and et me up. 
 49 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * <* * <* <* <* 
 
 Goldern hit! Ef I hadn't a-been skeert 
 so pow'fully bad, I'd abusted him open 
 wid a skillet and walloped him into sau 
 sage meat. De ole fool ! He done acted 
 like a ghos' war after him!" cried the old 
 negress in consternation. 
 
 Master Bert was concealed in the pan 
 try, convulsed with laughter at the pro 
 ceedings. 
 
 "Did the coon scare you, Aunt Mo- 
 riah?" he asked, as he poked his head out 
 of the pantry door. 
 
 This was too much ! Her power of en 
 durance had reached an end. She was 
 enraged, and resolved that then and there 
 she would have revenge. Bert started 
 out of the pantry. She turned like a 
 wild-cat, shoving him back, hastily locked 
 the door, and said fiercely: 
 
 "You'se done gone yo' length now. 
 50 
 
VENGEANCE AM SWEET! * * 
 
 You'se gwine to stay in dar till you learns 
 how to behave yo'self, and gits some wis 
 dom; you hard haided, sassyin' young 
 ster! Ain't you a-shame to allus be tor- 
 mentin' po' ole Aunt 'Riah? Here I 
 done spected you to be a man when you 
 come back from school. But dat numb 
 skull filled full of edication wouldn't help 
 you, fo' you'se gittin' wusser and wusser 
 every day; book larnin' don't do you no 
 good. We gwine to have a knock down 
 and drag out soon! I'll settle yo' hash! 
 You'se a mouty small pertater heah. De 
 very idee of 'lowin' dat rapscallion of a 
 coon to jonah me and my kitchen, by 
 sleepin' in my oven wif my taters ! Ain't 
 you got gumption enough to know dat 
 means a hoodoo to de whole family? 
 mos' specially Miss Betty's love affair! 
 Well, I spose Miss Betty will be gittin' 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 married soon, and den I gwine to leave 
 you, less I takes a notion to git married 
 myself before then." 
 
 She breathed the last very low, for none 
 of the Morgan family realized her matri 
 monial inclinations towards the Rev. Sin- 
 killer Sneezeweed. She had momentarily 
 forgotten Bert, and apparently was speak 
 ing more to herself than to him, as she 
 stood gazing toward the pantry. Bert 
 thought she was through with her lecture, 
 but she began again. 
 
 "I spose you don't recollect who he'ped 
 you make dem ha'r traps, and kotch dem 
 young flyin' squirrels! Dat twarn't me, 
 was hit? And who kivered yo' walls wid 
 coon skins? Yessah, hit was my friend, 
 Doctah Sneezeweed, what brung dem 
 coon skins and deer horns clar from Pos 
 sum Crick, jest cause I tole him to. Does 
 52 
 
VENGEANCE AM SWEET! * * 
 
 you reckon de Lawd's chillen ain't got 
 nothin' to do ceptin' to wait on you? 
 You ongreatf ul pusson ! De Lawd knows 
 dat twixt you and dat fool dorg, Bulger, 
 I don't have much peace! 
 
 "Miss Betty don't play no sich tricks 
 on me. Now, I wants to tell you fo' de 
 last time, I'se nevah nevah nevah 
 gwine to give you another thing to eat 
 'tween meals. No cracklin's, no ginger 
 bread, no nothin'! You eats when the 
 tother folks eats, and ef I had my say-so, 
 hit would be only the leavin's you'd git 
 then. Does you heah me? De Lawd 
 knows I didn't want to 'gin no fight wid 
 you, but since you has done 'gin hit, 
 I'se gwine to stay and pick up de frag- 
 mints. Now, dar! I'se locked de doo' 
 on you ! 
 
 "Mark my wo'd, hit's gwine to be 'Sin- 
 53 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 nah Mo'n' fo' you ever gits outin' dar. I 
 really ought to give you de worst whippen 
 you ever toted. Bein' as you is so manly, 
 I'se gwine to show you dat I kin bring 
 you to sack cloff and ashes, jest fo' my 
 own satisfaction. Hereafter, I can't cook 
 lessen you calls me Mrs. Simmons ! Dats 
 my name! Does you understand, Mr. 
 Morgan? 
 
 "Hit's jest like Brudder Sneezeweed 
 said last Sunday at church, 'most of dis 
 younger gineration is a lot of scripture 
 doubtin' sinnahs, and is bound fo' perdi 
 tion, whar dar is perpetual tormint and 
 nevah endin' fiah! Lawd he'p 'em fo' 
 'tis everlastingly too late to come into de 
 fole!'" 
 
 It was a red-letter day for Bert; never 
 before had Aunt Moriah called him Mr. 
 Morgan. She kept up her complaints 
 
 54 
 
VENGEANCE AM SWEET! * J 
 
 for some time, the only intermission being 
 when she went to her cabin to get her 
 quilting scraps. She soon returned, how 
 ever ; drew her shuck bottomed chair near 
 the pantry door, sat down and adjusted 
 
 her quilt as she continued to talk. But 
 Bert was too busy planning some scheme 
 whereby he might escape, to listen to her 
 remarks. And at last, becoming drowsy 
 from inaction, he dropped off to sleep. 
 Aunt Moriah's brain was also busy 
 
 55 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * 
 
 planning the final attempt to intimidate 
 Master Bert. She would not be too hard 
 on him; but entirely too much ginger 
 bread had disappeared of late, to say noth 
 ing of his other horrifying pranks, espe 
 cially when his boy friends from Houston 
 were visiting him, to let him go unpun 
 ished. Ah, an idea struck her! this 
 time she would get even with Master 
 Bert, and teach him a lesson to be remem 
 bered! But Betty must be let into the 
 scheme. 
 
 She went to Betty's room, and entered 
 without knocking. Betty knew at once 
 that something was up ! There was some 
 thing in Aunt Moriah's manner that had 
 not been there before, her step was light 
 and quick, and she looked ten years 
 younger than usual. She was out of 
 breath and giggling. It had been years 
 
 56 
 
VENGEANCE AM SWEET! * * 
 
 since her face had given forth such an ex 
 pression of mirth. There was a radiance 
 like the remote flash of an irresistible girl 
 ish mood shining through her wrinkled 
 face. She hastened to relate her plans 
 for scaring Master Bert, thinking all the 
 time Betty would remain neutral. But 
 to her joy, Betty was right in for the fun. 
 Aunt Moriah's broad grin plainly showed 
 her big white teeth, as her red lips sup 
 pressed the cachinnation of chuckles. A 
 motherly expression gleamed from her 
 eyes, and her voice was charged with 
 kindliness, and full of genuine fun. 
 
 "I'se sholy gwine to scare him dis 
 time," she ejaculated, still chuckling at 
 the prospect. 
 
 "Hurry up then! Get the old ash can 
 to burn the papers in; be careful, don't 
 set anything on fire! We don't want 
 
 57 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * # # * 
 
 father to catch us! But Bert must be 
 brought to time!" exclaimed Betty, much 
 to the surprise and delight of Aunt Mo- 
 riah. 
 
 It was a sad day for Bert; two long 
 hours he had spent locked in the pantry. 
 Surely that seemed sufficient punishment 
 of itself without the culmination. But 
 Aunt Moriah had her own ideas about 
 teaching him wisdom. 
 
 No time was lost in making prepara 
 tions; all plans were laid for what Aunt 
 Moriah called a "smoke-out." She has 
 tily piled paper in the ash can while 
 Betty went for a match. 
 
 "S-s-s-s-s-s-s-sh ! Don't wake him up !" 
 whispered Aunt Moriah as she entered 
 the kitchen. 
 
 "That's enough!" said Betty, as Aunt 
 Moriah pushed the remaining papers 
 
 58 
 
VENGEANCE AM SWEET! * * 
 
 into the can. "Place it near the door so 
 he'll get a good whiff of it!" 
 
 With many a whispered word and 
 stifled laugh they lighted the papers; 
 placed the can near the pantry door, and 
 opened the little side window, so that the 
 smoke would blow directly into the pan 
 try. Aunt Moriah got out of the kitchen 
 and around to the window as nimbly as a 
 child. Here she and Betty concealed 
 themselves behind the morning-glory 
 vines, still tittering with suppressed 
 chuckles. As the smoke poured into the 
 pantry, Aunt Moriah whispered: 
 
 "Dat'll make him come to time and 
 mo'n! I spose he won't pester me no 
 
 mo'!" 
 
 "Hush!" said Betty, "I hear father 
 
 coming." 
 
 "Well, I reckon if Marse Lije's mem- 
 59 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 ory ain't too poor, he ricollects playin' 
 some pranks in his early days hisself," 
 said Aunt Moriah, as she peeped through 
 the vines. 
 
 At this moment Mr. Morgan appeared 
 on the scene, and noticed Betty and Aunt 
 Moriah at the window. He knew some 
 thing was up from their unusual manner. 
 
 "Playing some trick on Master Bert, 
 eh? Well, it's good for him! Perhaps 
 he will learn not to disturb you and your 
 kitchen affairs hereafter," he remarked 
 with a smile as he entered the back door. 
 
 By this time the smoke had filled the 
 kitchen. Breathlessly they waited. Sud 
 denly there was a howl of terror from the 
 pantry and a succession of wild thumps 
 resounded from the little room. 
 
 "Fire! Fire! Murder! Help! Save 
 me, Aunt Moriah, save me!" Bert called 
 60 
 
VENGEANCE AM SWEET! ^ # 
 
 imploringly. "The kitchen is on fire!" 
 His screams were accompanied by a ter 
 rible rapping and kicking on the pantry 
 walls. Aunt Moriah enjoyed his torment 
 for several minutes, then tip-toed in, un 
 locked the pantry door, and ran out again. 
 
 Bert shoved the door open just in time 
 to see two faces distorted with laughter, 
 watching him from the kitchen window. 
 The old negress spoke up: "Was yo' 
 pow'fully skeert, Master Bert? I'll 
 teach yo' dat I'm boss of dis roost! Be 
 ware how yo' henceforth trespasses on my 
 domains!" As Aunt Moriah waxed 
 great, Bert dwindled. 
 
 "That's all right; I'll get even with 
 you! See if I don't!" he shouted in his 
 chagrin, and disappeared around the cor 
 ner of the house. 
 
 Betty and Aunt Moriah laughed until 
 61 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS <* * * * * * 
 
 they held their sides. Clinging to each 
 other they enjoyed paroxysms of such de 
 light as comes only to happy children. 
 Never before had they perpetrated such 
 a successful trick on Bert. The tears of 
 joy ran over Aunt Moriah's cheeks. 
 "Oh Lawdy!" she kept gasping. "How 
 dat chile did yell! Lawdy! Lawdy !" 
 At last she and Betty returned to the 
 kitchen. 
 
 "Gawd knows vengeance am sweet!" 
 said Aunt Moriah. "And I has made dat 
 young sinnah mo'n!" 
 
 62 
 
LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE * * 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE 
 
 THE autumn flowers were in full 
 bloom; tall purple asters and thin 
 leaved cosmos shivered on their wind-like 
 stalks; the goldenrod formed a massive 
 sheet of yellow around the bed of fringed 
 gentians ; while the old-fashioned dahlias, 
 bachelor buttons, petunias, and four- 
 o'clocks of every hue, peeped from the 
 corners of this wonderful old garden. 
 Honeysuckles and woodbines climbed 
 over the aged wall to tempt the humming 
 birds, moths, and drowsy bees that filled 
 the air. A mocking bird was teaching 
 her young to fly in a catalpa tree. All of 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 these gave an air of romance to the place 
 and made it a veritable paradise for 
 lovers. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when Betty 
 
 and Neill returned from the station, 
 where Betty had gone to meet him, and 
 seated themselves on the rustic old bench 
 inside the garden. Aunt Moriah's heart 
 was happy as she sat between them cutting 
 peaches to dry. According to a plan al 
 ready agreed upon, these youthful lovers 
 began questioning Aunt Moriah about 
 her various love affairs and courtships. 
 This was the very thing she liked ; noth 
 ing could have pleased her more. She 
 
LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE * * * 
 
 was the original fountain of all informa 
 tion and advice on matrimonial questions. 
 A few leading interrogations were all that 
 was necessary to loosen a tongue skilled 
 in love lore, and one that would speak as 
 an oracle. 
 
 "Do tell us about your first love affair, 
 Aunt Moriah," said Neill entreatingly. 
 
 "Oh, yes, do!" joined in Betty. 
 
 "No, chillen, I ain't got no time to con 
 fabulate wif you youngsters what ain't 
 had no 'sperience in matrimony. If I 
 was to tell you about dat powerful meetin' 
 we had dat time when I first cum through, 
 and about how I kotched my first hus 
 band, you wouldn't believe me! So I 
 ain't gwine to waste my breff on such ig 
 norant and foolish folks!" 
 
 "Please, Aunt Moriah, we'll believe 
 every word you say. Tell all about when 
 
 65 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 you came through, and how you caught 
 your first husband." 
 
 "Well, beenist as you insist, and beenist 
 as I has wet-nussed you bofT, I is gwine 
 to tell you all about my 'speriences." 
 
 Aunt Moriah gazed into the distance 
 with an air of one at peace with the world, 
 hardly stirred indeed by the enthusiasm 
 of her audience. 
 
 "Commence with the first one," called 
 out Neill, anxious to get the oracle started. 
 
 "Jest hold yo' hosses young man! 
 Does you think when I tells the story 
 about the father of my first chile, dat I 
 aint' got to ricollect his full name, and all 
 about him? Well, as I was going to say, 
 my first husband sholy was a grand man, 
 and I was pow'fully sot on him. His 
 name was Ebeneezer Toomer Zachariah 
 Dubstick, and my full maiden name was 
 66 
 
LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE * * * 
 
 Miss Moriah Georgy Petunia Charity 
 Buggins, but dey called me 'Riah, jest 
 plain 'Riah, for short. But look heah, 
 you chillen ain't gwine to tell nobody 
 what I tells you, is you?" 
 
 "Sure not!" they answered in unison. 
 "Tell us all about it." 
 
 "When I was young I lived in New 
 Orleans; den de folks done moved to 
 Houston, and fetched me along wif 'em," 
 began the aged negress. "Co'se dey 
 couldn't git along wif out Moriah ! Well, 
 every summer de niggers all conglomer 
 ates here on de coast-kintry of Texas. 
 We had a terrible big movin' protracted 
 meetin' whar dar was powerful 'zortens, 
 prophesyin', and all sich like. De saints 
 and sinnahs was all rounded up." 
 
 "Did you prophesy then?" queried 
 Neill as he and Betty exchanged smiles. 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 "No, course I didn't, chile! Is you 
 done gone crazy? I warn't nothin' but a 
 pretty giggly gal; and I hadn't yit come 
 through. But hit warn't long befo' I was 
 under conviction at de big meetin' and 
 B rudder Dubstick was already co'tin' me, 
 unbeknownst to myself! 
 
 "Some thought he liked me; others 
 thought he liked my cookin'; but co'se, 
 chillen, away down in my wo'ldly heart 
 I kinder liked to 'pear pow'fully taken 
 wif 'ligion befo' dis deacon, for he was 
 de one what always catamarize de young 
 jiners. Yet, I didn't take no special no 
 tice of de deacon kase I was rastlin' wif 
 sin and de Debbil." 
 
 "Then you hadn't got religion?" asked 
 Betty. 
 
 "No'am, I hadn't zackly come 
 through!" she ejaculated fervently, "but 
 68 
 
LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE * <* * 
 
 praise de good Lawd, I was already 
 weepin' at de mo'ner's bench! And de 
 saints was prayin' and moanin' over me. 
 "Holy Moses! dem sholy was some 
 doin's! I thought jedgmint day was at 
 hand. Dat monstrous crowd was singin', 
 prayin', and shoutin', and de b'leevers was 
 gittin' mo' plentiful every minute. All 
 dem Sandhill niggers from Jurdin Crick 
 done come over to help us. De Metho 
 dists was pitted 'ginst de Baptists and de 
 Campbellites, and every time one of dem 
 sinners shouted out, 'I sees salvation!' de 
 preachers would go see whose side he was 
 on. If he was wif de Methodists, den 
 dey would sot him aside to be sprinkled 
 wid branch water; but if he was wid de 
 Baptists or Campbellites, den him for de 
 deep waters of J'urdin Crick whar de 
 black turtle's eye is always shinin'." 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 "How long did the crowds remain on 
 the grounds?" asked Neill. 
 
 "How long does you think we stayed?" 
 she groaned. "If dey was seekin' salva 
 tion, dey fit de Debbil till dey got hit; but 
 if dey was seekin' wo'ldly pleasure dey 
 went away when dey chose." 
 
 "But you haven't told us when you got 
 religion," interrupted Neill. 
 
 "Jest gimme time!" snapped the old 
 negress. "I'se gwine to tell hit all but 
 whar was I? Oh, yes, I knows; I was 
 speakin' 'bout dem doin's at de big 
 meetin'. Well, I was weepin' at de 
 mo'ner's bench wif piles of other sinners 
 what was under conviction. Some was 
 cryin' out loud fo' marcy, tothers had 
 done gone into transes. De wo'kers was 
 totin' 'em out and layin' 'em on de grass 
 till de good Lawd spoke to 'em. Here 
 70 
 
LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE * * * 
 
 dey was jest watchin' and prayin' for mo' 
 to git rigid wif repentance, so dat de 
 Lawd could strack 'em down. All de 
 time de saints was a-singin' dat good ole 
 
 hymn, 'Po 1 
 Sinnah's Foun' 
 A Home At 
 
 -T~T ' Las'.' 
 "After Brudder Dubstick done 
 preached three hours he takes a new text 
 and starts all over again. De text was 
 somethin' about brimstone, hell-fiah, and 
 damnation! Hit war somewhere in de 
 Bible twixt Generations and Revolutions. 
 And he ended by savin', 'dar'll be 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 moanin', weepin', and gnashin' of teeth!' 
 'Some of you,' he sez, 'is asleep jest like a 
 sullen possum, but de dorgs is gwine to 
 snitch on you sho', aha! De debbil is 
 gwine to goof at you, aha ! You'se zackly 
 like de carcass of a daid cow, but de buz 
 zards of sin is gwine to gozzle you down, 
 for dar'll be moanin' and moanin' F 
 
 "Brudder Dubstick kep' on: 'De 
 waves of Jurdin is gittin' blacker and 
 blacker; jedgmint day is comin' for us all! 
 Jest a few mo' days of grace, and den 
 hit'll be too late. At our last meetin' was 
 po' ole Sistah Faithy Solomon what had 
 prayed, sung, prophesied and 'zorted! 
 But whar am she now? Bless Gawd, she's 
 totin' mo'ners on dat far and distant shore, 
 wavin' de pa'ms of glory wif dem tother 
 angels. No mo' trials and tribulations 
 for her! No suh, for she's jest sottin' by 
 72 
 
"FM READY FOR DAT CHARIOT TO COME!" 
 
LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE ^ * * 
 
 de tother side of Jurdin floppin' dem new 
 wings wif de seraphims and cherabims! 
 Is you ready to jine her, Sistah Liza?' 
 
 " 'Dat I is! Bless de LawdP screamed 
 Liza, 'I sees Sistah Faithy wif de angels 
 stretchin' out her hands to me and sayin', 
 "Come up higher, Sistah Liza." Glory, 
 I'm ready for dat chariot to come arter 
 me!'" 
 
 "'Amen! Amen!'" called out a host 
 of voices. Then Brother Dubstick re 
 sumed his talk. 
 
 "Last week po' Sistah Jezebel de 
 parted in de arms of de Lawd, shoutin' 
 glory wid her last bref. We done 
 planted her bones in dat lonesome grave 
 yard up yonder. On her tombstone is a 
 dove of peace; Gawd knows she didn't 
 have much peace in dis heah wold! Po' 
 ole critter she was so deaf dat she couldn't 
 
 73 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS # * * * * rf 
 
 heah hit thunder, but she was allus to 
 chuch wid her ear trumpet pintin' right 
 towards de preacher. Yessir, she was lis- 
 tenin' for a wod of comfot, and she was 
 settin' dem young sinnahs a good example 
 of faithfulness, even though sometimes 
 she was sleepin' and snorin' dat trumpet 
 was allus pintin' at de gorspel ! On jedg- 
 ment day Marse Gabriel may have to give 
 his horn an extra toot to wake her up, but 
 she'll be dar! Po' old critter, dem 
 heathen will shorely miss her. De last 
 year of her life she done knitted ninety- 
 four pairs of socks, and was hopin' to knit 
 one hundred befo' she obsquatulated. 
 
 "Two little boys of Brudder Mose 
 Johnsins was laid to sleep in dat lonesome 
 graveyard since our last meetin'. Gawd 
 knows de grave diggers' spades seems like 
 dey won't never git rusty no mo'. Jedg- 
 74 
 
LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE * * J 
 
 mint day sholy is nigh at hand. Sistah 
 Prunella's little girl, Creecy, is at de pint 
 of sickness and I specks she's gwine to 
 jine dat heavenly band fo' long. (Have 
 Marcy on us Lawd! cried her weepin' 
 maw.) 
 
 "Den Brudder Gilberry riz up and 
 commenced a-singin' 'In Some Lonesome 
 Graveyard, Oh Lawd How Long?' 
 
 " 'Hush up dat singin' Brudder Gil- 
 berry,' said Brudder Dubstick, 'and let 
 us go on wid dese heah promulgations. 
 Ain't you all tired of yo' sins? Ain't you 
 tired of sarvin' de debil? De scripture 
 says, "Hits better to be de gate keeper in 
 de house of de Lawd than to dwell in the 
 tents of wickedness !" 
 
 " 'Some of you is like aged trees in de 
 forest of de Lawd, withered in branches, 
 and yo' haids is kivered in snow, settled 
 
 75 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 on you from de waves of sorrow. De 
 winds of time have blown de hairs from 
 yo' haids; hit has torn yo' teef out, and 
 made furrows in yo' aged brows. De vail 
 of sorrow has kivered yo' eyes so dey sees 
 no mo' ; hit has bent yo' weary backs wid 
 burdens heaby to tote; and no mo' you 
 walks wid haids hilt high. Dis yearthly 
 body trembles and shakes and de time is 
 nigh at hand when de cock will crow fo' 
 yo' last day on dis old yearth!' 
 
 "'Amen!' groaned a hos' of voices as 
 Brother Dubstick tuck a glass of water, 
 and kep' on. 
 
 " 'I wants some of you wo'kers and 
 'zorters to come up heah and pray wid 
 dese heah po' moaners, while some of de 
 saints gives their 'speriences. Sistah 
 Sally Skinflunt, bein' as you has kinder 
 nussed dis church from hits infamy up, 
 
LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE * * * 
 
 and has been de life of mo' funerals den 
 anyone of dese saints, s'pose you tell us 
 what de speerit have sed to you.' 
 
 "Den Sistah Skinflunt riz up and com 
 menced a-wavin' her hands and shoutin', 
 'O my breddern, O my sistern! I is toted 
 you in my arms when you was little ones, 
 I has toted you from de moaners bench, 
 and Gawd knows I is liable to tote you to 
 some coffin' and place a bunch of forgit- 
 me-nots in yo' hands, so dat you can greet 
 dem angels wif 'em when you lands on 
 dat distant shoo. Jest tell 'em dey 
 growed in Sis Skinflunt's garden, whar de 
 weeds and sparrow grass tried to crowd 
 'em out; tell 'em Sis Skinflunt am still fit- 
 tin' sin like a boa'din' housekeeper fits 
 cock roaches. Tell 'em dat I'm cominM 
 Dat my feet ain't never growed tired, but 
 dat de day do seem long, and in de evenin' 
 
 77 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 of life de sun don't shine so bright.' 
 'Amen!' shouted de aged saints, as Sister 
 Skinflunt spoke de gorspel. 
 
 "Tell 'em dat I can already see de 
 stars shinin' down de Ribber Jurdin, and 
 my eyes is done sot on dat New Jerusalem 
 whar hit never gits dark! Already does 
 I hear de angels sayin', 'Come up higher, 
 Sister Skinflunt, and play on dat harp of 
 a thousand strings wif David.' Yas suh, 
 de arch angel done tuned dat harp and 
 prepared for a grand jubilee when I gits 
 dar! 
 
 " 'De pleasures of dis heah world don't 
 trouble me no mo'; de few things dat I 
 used to love am gone beyond. One by 
 one my treasures have departed, and now 
 I has a treasure in heaben, bless Gawd!' 
 'Amen ! Amen ! Amen !' cum from ev'y 
 direction. 
 
 78 
 
LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE * * * 
 
 " 'Go right on wid yo' 'speriences, Sis 
 ter Skinflunt,' sed Brother Dubstick, as 
 de aged sister climbed onto one of dem 
 benches and waving her hands, kep' on. 
 
 " Traise Gawd as I looks over de ocean 
 of life, I sees my ship a-comin'! 
 A-comin' arter me! I sees dem angel 
 sailors wid deir opra glasses lookin' for 
 Sister Skinflunt. Bless de Lawd, I'se 
 been baptised in de Baptist Crick and I 
 lives on de Baptist side! Oh, Lawd! let 
 me . . .!' 
 
 " 'Git some water quick Sis Viney, fo' 
 Sister Skinflunt is havin' a faintin' spell. 
 Jest be quiet brudders and sisters, I think 
 she's all right. Jest gone into a transe. 
 Lay her out dar whar hit am cool and 
 we'll go on wid our 'ligion service,' sed 
 Brother Dubstick, as Brother Mose John- 
 sin riz up to 'spress hisself. 
 79 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 " Well, my f rens, I is pow'fully in de 
 clutches of sin. Howbesomever, we must 
 keep on fittin' sin till the sun sets, jest like 
 we fits de weeds and grass. We must 
 chop hit down, rake hit up, and burn hit 
 wid de hoes and spades of righteousness! 
 We must never sleep 
 on de stump while 
 de weeds is growin', 
 fo' den de devil will 
 git us sholy.' i Amen P 
 came from de crowd, 
 while Uncle Isaac, 
 near the pulpit uttered a weird groan. 
 'A-m-m-m-m-m-m,' he moaned like a 
 wounded b'ar in the woods." 
 
 "When did that meeting come to an 
 end, Aunt Moriah?" interrupted Neill. 
 
 "Law, chile, dat meetin' lasted most all 
 night! I was jest goin' to tell you how it 
 80 
 
LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE * * J 
 
 ended. Brudder Gooberpea was de next 
 one what was called on. But his 'speri- 
 ence didn't amount to much; didn't even 
 fotch fo'th a hymn. Den, wifout waitin' 
 to be axed, Brudder Isrul, from Jurdin 
 Crick, riz up and sez, sez he: 
 
 " 'De Debil done come to see me de 
 tother night and sez, "Brudder Isrul, you 
 sholy is lookin' monstrous bad; actually 
 you looks like you hadn't et no chicken 
 vittles in four moons!" 
 
 "'Den I jest kep' on thinkin'. I 
 knowed I had already been 'flicted wid 
 locomotia ataxia, and I didn't want to git 
 hit er-gin'. On dat very night my old 
 lady had driv me outin' de kitchen wifout 
 givin' me one bite of supper, all kase I 
 warn't in the woman siffrage parade. I 
 told her dat I fully intended paradin' my- 
 se'f, but dat I went to sleep in de cotton 
 81 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 shed and didn't wake up in time. But, 
 woman-like, she felt hit her duty to pun 
 ish me. 
 
 " Well, I was gittin' pow'fully hon- 
 gry, and was jest hankerin' fo' some 
 chicken vittles wid onion gravy. So, I 
 decided dat I better take a little constitu 
 tional walk. But luck was agin' me! I 
 felt f o' my 'backer, and hit was all gone ; 
 my po' throat was jest natchelly parchin' 
 fo' a little simmon beer, and I heerd de 
 Debil say to me kinder gentle like, "Brud- 
 der Isrul, yo' back is pow'fully lame from 
 dat last whippin 'dat yo' old 'oman had 
 to give you ; I specks you had better not 
 try to climb dat hill over by de new pas 
 ture, but jest cut through de woods by 
 Sister Sims' chicken yard. You know 
 dat am de quickest way." 
 
 " 'Hones' truff, I done been beat up so 
 82 
 
LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE * * * 
 
 badly dat my mind was in a state of addle 
 ment, and I thinks to myse'f, "Isrul bet 
 ter not trust to his jedgment; he better go 
 through de woods by Sister Sims'." So, 
 I took along a cotton basket to fetch de 
 old 'oman a basket of pine knots dis 
 would save me anudder pow'ful beaten. 
 Well, I was snatchin' up pine knots right 
 and left, and de fust thing I knowed I run 
 right agin' a chicken house! Dat's 
 zackly what I done. 
 
 " 'Den I sez to myse'f, "Isrul don't let 
 dese heah big yaller and dominecker 
 roosters and pullets disturb you while you 
 sits down and has a good peaceful sleep, 
 kase de old 'oman mout take a notion to 
 make you sit up all night and fit dem 
 skeeters and bugs while she rests fo' de 
 missionary meetin'!" By dis time, po' 
 tired Isrul was done clar inside de chicken 
 
 83 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 house so if hit rained he wouldn't git wet. 
 
 " Well, de quaarest thing happened. 
 De devil put Isrul to sleep, and den Isrul 
 dreamed he was ketchin' wild birds in de 
 bushes. So, Isrul got one of dem walkin' 
 night-mares, and piled all de pine knots 
 outin' de basket, and kotched twelve of 
 de biggest fattest roosters, and six pul 
 lets, and tied their legs, put 'em in de bas 
 ket, and perculated for home! 
 
 " 'Lawd have marcy! Po' Isrul hadn't 
 mo' den started when Sister Sims heerd 
 dem chickens squallin', and run into de 
 yard. Bless my soul if she didn't almost 
 run agin' po' sleepin' Isrul! Well, I was 
 so skeert when I woke up dat I talked 
 kinder crazy like. "Dese chickens is jest 
 takin' a ride in my basket," sez I. But 
 Sister Sims was rarin' and swarin' 'bout 
 havin' me chu'ched till I done 'splained 
 
LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE * * * 
 
 dat I was havin' a night-mare. Den, she 
 done forgive me, so I turn't de chickens 
 loose, and meandered home to tell de old 
 lady 'bout hit. 7 
 
 " 'Set down, Brudder Isrul, fo 7 you gits 
 started agin 7 !' called out Brudder Haw- 
 bush. Dat was de crownin 7 insult, chil- 
 len! Hit come from one of dem Sand 
 Hill niggers of de Methodist faith. I 
 knowed trouble was comin 7 ; I felt hit in 
 my bones. I was still at de moaners 
 bench, but I commenced to git ready to 
 'fend my faith if dem Methodists insulted 
 we as a church! I was so flustrated and 
 compoginant as I had never been since I 
 was borned. Dar was a big plank sottin 7 
 in de corner. I seed dis weapon, kase de 
 Lawd had sont hit to me to fit wid in case 
 of trouble. And trouble was comin 7 ! 
 Dem Sand Hill niggers had been takin' 
 
 85 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 all kinds of sinnahs into their church jest 
 to try and out do de Baptist." 
 
 Aunt Moriah paused, and after closely 
 scanning the faces of her youthful audi 
 ence, to make sure that they were listen 
 ing, resumed her story. 
 
 "Yes, chillen, I was gittin' furagious. 
 Dem shoutin' Methodists from Jurdin 
 Crick were all confabulatin' wid one 
 'nother. De Campbellites 'peared mo' 
 kintinted in min', knowin' dat we warn't 
 gwine to let 'em git licked. But we Bap 
 tists lawsy, chillen, we was foamin' wif 
 wrath! De Methodists had been kinder 
 insultin' like durin' de whole camp- 
 meetin' and dis was de last night, so hit 
 was up to us to git venjeance on 'em. 
 Zackly at dis minute one of dem Metho 
 dist niggers said in a loud 'sinuatin' 
 voice : 
 
 86 
 
LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE * * * 
 
 " 'Miss Moriah Buggins mus' sholy be 
 a pow'ful sinnah, fo' she don't seem to 
 be able to git salvation!' 
 
 "Dat was de wossest thing she could 
 a-sed ; de fracas was started ! I sprung at 
 her like a panther cat, and de Lawd knows 
 I jest left enough shreds of clothes on her 
 to kiver her nakedness. We bit, tore, and 
 scuffled, but she was laced up so tight dat 
 her breff warn't no good. I jest squoze 
 her up like a ball, and drawed dem strings 
 so close dat her wind pipes was mos' 
 busted. Den I fo'ced her to de floo' and 
 hilt her down wid my feet till she growed 
 limp as a dish-rag!" 
 
 Aunt Moriah roared with laughter at 
 the thought of her youthful combats. 
 She had been a fighter! 
 
 "Dem niggers was fittinM" she con 
 tinued. "Dey was climbin' over benches, 
 
 87 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS ****** 
 
 some cussin', some prayin' for marcy, 
 and all scramblin' for de doo'. I made 
 for dat doo' myse'f, carryin' de big board 
 what stood in de corner. I climbed right 
 over de doo' and sot on de end of a pine 
 log. Jist as dem Methodists scurried out 
 I lambasted 'em de pow'fullest blow what 
 I could, from old Sis Faithy to little Pe 
 tunia Teempy. Dat I did ! Hit was my 
 Christian duty to spank dat whole bunch 
 of Sand-Hill Methodists! Dey done hilt 
 dey haids too high, so I had to lay 'em 
 low! 
 
 "But hit sholy was a dispensin' of prov 
 idence dat I hadn't already jined de 
 church, kase I mout a-shirked my duty, 
 and hit was de spankin' of de Methodists 
 what won for me Brudder Dubstick's 
 heart. In less den two weeks I was led 
 into de crick and baptized. Yes, chillen, 
 88 
 
LUCIDATIONS ON LOVE * * * 
 
 dat am how it all happened! 'Scuse me, 
 I must go and put some seasonin' in my 
 turnip greens fo' dey biles too much," she 
 ended, and hastened into the kitchen. 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 JEST MIDDLIN' PEART 
 
 AUNT MORIAH SIMMONS, re 
 ligious celebrity, prophet, saint of 
 sixty-five years, head of the Pruneville 
 Zion Evangelical Mite Society, and 
 leader in church affairs, enjoyed the 
 unique distinction of 
 being the most reli 
 gious person in 
 Pruneville as well as 
 being the greatest 
 believer in marriage. 
 If she set out to 
 catch a new husband, she deliberately 
 selected the one of her choice, and 
 90 
 
JEST MIDDLIN ? PEART * * * 
 
 he was soon won, even though she had 
 to resort to manifold tricks. She was 
 the best cook in the county; the wonder of 
 her chicken pie, potato-pone, cakes and 
 custards, was known everywhere. But 
 most of all she was known for her matri 
 monial experience ; and toward the main 
 tenance of this reputation it was Aunt 
 Moriah's pride and joy to be continually 
 evolving new methods of courtship. 
 Never once had a rival in love-lore dark 
 ened her horizon. Since she had been 
 old enough to wear long dresses she had 
 been considered the supreme authority 
 upon all matrimonial affairs of the com 
 munity. But at this ripe age she found 
 herself confronting a most serious prob 
 lem. 
 
 Several times she had been left a widow 
 and each time had immediately caught a 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 new husband. The saying that, "Aunt 
 Moriah is the marrinest person in Prune- 
 ville," was one in which she took especial 
 pride, and she was determined to make 
 every effort to sustain her reputation. 
 No one but a genuine preacher of the 
 hard-shell Baptist faith would satisfy her 
 he must be a religious celebrity, as were 
 her former husbands. 
 
 The saints were duly interested, and 
 also the sinners, for this was Aunt Mo- 
 riah's fifth widowhood and each time in 
 the past she had deliberately picked out 
 the preacher of her choice and, without 
 playing havoc with other sisters' hus 
 bands, as Viney Green had done, married 
 before the grass had grown over her last 
 husband's grave. Nothing had ever 
 come in her way; no one had ever dared 
 attempt to shine beside this noted reli- 
 92 
 
JEST MIDDLIN ? PEART <* <* * 
 
 gious and matrimonial light, nor had 
 they questioned its brilliance! 
 
 It had gradually leaked out in the 
 community that Aunt Moriah was en 
 deavoring to catch the Rev. Sinkiller 
 Sneezeweed. This she was attaining by 
 
 the process of feeding him a wise 
 woman's first bait. Things went on 
 swimmingly for a while, but just as all 
 looked serene for success, Brother Sneeze- 
 weed stopped calling upon her. No ex 
 cuse did he offer; nor could she think of 
 any, unless it was that other Christian 
 
 93 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 widows had learned of her methods and 
 had alienated his affections by tempting 
 him with extra good food. If such was 
 the case something had to be done, and 
 done at once; otherwise her reputation 
 would fall to zero. 
 
 Meanwhile the fickle Brother Sneeze- 
 weed had a covetous eye turned toward 
 Sister Viney, and had resolved either to 
 wait until Viney became a widow or 
 marry one of the younger saints of the 
 church. Everything seemed to have sud 
 denly turned against Aunt Moriah; there 
 were troubles galore. 
 
 It was not uncommon for the sisters to 
 say, as they gossiped together after church 
 was over, "Po' Sistah Moriah, de Lawd 
 is pow'fully 'flictin' her! Hit do seem 
 she ain't gwine to kotch B rudder Sin- 
 killer Sneezeweed so easy as she thought 
 
 94 
 
JEST MIDDLIN ? PEART * * * 
 
 she was! Well, she's gittin' too old to 
 cope wid dese younger saints, she's done 
 had her day; her laurels is lost!" 
 
 This was enough to revive the spirits 
 of the most superannuated fossil, to say 
 nothing of a woman hitherto celebrated 
 for her unrivalled social and matrimonial 
 proclivities. Aunt Moriah spent many 
 wakeful nights planning some scheme 
 whereby she might induce the Rev. Sin- 
 killer to call on her again. Several 
 weeks passed and still no definite plan of 
 action was formed. But on the fourth 
 week of prayer and meditation a light be 
 gan to dawn; at last, an inspiration came. 
 So excited was she that she talked aloud 
 to herself: 
 
 "I'll show dem females whether I'm 
 able to kotch B rudder Sneezeweed or 
 not! Dey needn't be wastin' deir sympa- 
 95 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * J * * 
 
 thy on me; Lawdy, if I wanted to I could 
 make any one of dem a widow in three 
 days' time by jest walkin' off wid dey no- 
 count husbands. Huh! I ain't sufferin' 
 wid aige! I reckon dey don't know Mrs. 
 Simmons so well as dey think dey do. I 
 ain't old as Mathuselah, but I've lived 
 long enough to show dem a few new 
 tricks. Jest keep yo' eyes on me, gals!" 
 she shrieked with laughter, as she planned 
 her matrimonial campaign, which we 
 cannot say was planned unwisely, or with 
 out much thought. 
 
 "I knows what I'se gwine to do; I'se 
 gwine to try one of Master Bert's tricks 
 on Brudder Sinkiller. Dat'll bring him 
 to time! I'll make him come over to see 
 me dis very night. Lawsy, why ain't I 
 done thought of hit before? All I'se got 
 to do is to tie a piece of strong twine to 
 
JEST MIDDLIN ? PEART * * # 
 
 de outside of his stove pipe, and tie de 
 tother end here in my kitchen. Den 
 I draws a piece of pine-rosin on dat 
 string, he'll think hit's a hant shoo! and 
 over to see me he'll come! Well, I do 
 declar! I mout a-been married by dis 
 time if I'd used my haid befo'. Mrs. 
 Simmons will have a beau dis very night; 
 look out, gals, I'll git him shoo! He's 
 jest de same as kotched. My hand 
 and haid ain't lost dey cunnin' yit. Hit's 
 as easy as throwin' salt on a bird's tail!" 
 Aunt Moriah was happier than she had 
 been for many moons. She hummed to 
 herself as she hustled among the pots and 
 pans. A ball of strong twine was soon 
 found, and shortly after Brother Sinkiller 
 had passed down the road, with a fishing 
 rod and grubbing hoe on his shoulder, she 
 emerged from the kitchen, with a grin on 
 
 97 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * 
 
 * * 
 
 her face, and made straight for Brother 
 Sinkiller's cabin. The telephone connec 
 tion was soon made, and when it was 
 finished, she gave it a thorough test 
 ing. Aunt Moriah was 
 as happy over it, as a 
 boy is over seeing his 
 first circus. 
 
 "Hit's time 
 to come 
 home from 
 yo' fishin', 
 Dr. Sneeze- 
 weed. Jest 
 have a seat in yo' lonesome cabin, and let 
 de rats play on yo' floor, while yo' listens 
 to de hants sawin' on yo' stove-pipe. Bet 
 ter take warnin' against remainin' single 
 too long in widderhood," she remarked 
 to herself as she bent over the washtub. 
 
JEST MIDDLIN ? PEART * * * 
 
 "I reckon yo' better decide to marry po' 
 Sistah Simmons what can give yo' real 
 comfot, as she's knowed sorrer herself. 
 She's a good cook; and a saint like yo' 
 needs good eatins," thus she mused, little 
 aware of the real cause of Brother Sin- 
 killer's seeming indifference. 
 
 Night was coming on as Brother Sin- 
 killer, wearied from his long fishing 
 trip, ploddingly returned empty-handed 
 to his little tin-roofed, log cabin hut, 
 which had been only a place to sleep in 
 at nights. The loneliness was killing; he 
 must get married, but to whom should it 
 be? Viney Green was still married, but 
 no one could tell when she might decide 
 to become a widow. Aunt Moriah was 
 all right, but she had already been wife 
 to both the former pastors of the Possum 
 Trot Zion Evangelical Church, as well 
 99 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * rf 
 
 as the bearer of the reputation of being 
 the "marrinest woman in Pruneville." 
 This he did not like, for the brothers and 
 sisters teased him about her. His deci 
 sion must be reached by prayer. There 
 was no time to lose, so kneeling by his 
 bedside he began: 
 
 "Hep me Lawd to decide tonight on de 
 right 'oman fo' my hepmeet. Lead her 
 to me, Lawd, or if yo' won't do dat, lead 
 me to her! Foce us together, foce me to 
 axe her, foce her to have me! Rose yo' 
 know, Lawd, dat I'm gittin' as stubborn 
 as dat old gray mare mule of mine." 
 
 Little did Aunt Moriah, in her kitchen 
 on the hillside, know that the fates had 
 come to her aid, and were directing her 
 to draw the rosin on the string, just when 
 she did. Her plan was blossoming forth 
 suddenly in all its diabolical wickedness. 
 100 
 
JEST MIDDLIN^ PEART * * * 
 
 The gnawing, sawing sound on Brother 
 Sinkiller's stove pipe made it seem as if 
 the entire "hant" world were determined 
 to drive him to distraction. Hastily 
 arising from his knees, he declared aloud: 
 "What am dat quaar noise? Hep me 
 Lawd, hit sounds jest like a speerit 
 scratchin' 'ginst my stove pipe! Dis 
 heah cabin ain't big enough to hold me 
 and dat hant!" He walked to the win 
 dow, and peered through the darkness to 
 ward Aunt Moriah's kitchen. It looked 
 very light and inviting over there. "I 
 spose I better go to see Sister Simmons," 
 he mumbled to himself, excusingly. "I 
 ain't seed her in sich a pow'ful long time." 
 He grunted as he reached for his hat and 
 old walking stick, made from a crooked 
 hickory sprout. The hant continued to 
 scratch on his stove pipe, as he closed the 
 101 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 door with a bang, and trembling as with 
 ague, wended his way toward Sister Sim 
 mons' matrimonial spider-web. 
 
 Aunt Moriah saw him coming up the 
 hill, and chuckled to herself, "I is cer 
 tainly one awful sinner; but dat nigger is 
 too slow fo' a lady of my caliber!" 
 
 Brother Sneezeweed's gentle rap was 
 answered by a welcome "come in." He 
 was soon comfortably seated in the 
 widow's luxurious kitchen. The supper 
 dishes had been washed and cleared away, 
 and Aunt Moriah was working on her 
 favorite piece of knitting, a pair of white 
 stockings with a fancy red border around 
 the top. Although Brother Sinkiller 
 knew that it was not just the proper thing 
 for a preacher to meditate on, yet he 
 could not help thinking how attractive 
 her ankles would look in those wonderful 
 102 
 
JEST MIDDLIN ? PEART * jt * 
 
 stockings, and how he should like to own 
 a pair of socks made as they were! 
 Brother Sinkiller was little aware that 
 she had so carefully planned the evening. 
 The first thing Aunt Moriah did was to 
 set the table, and feed him on every 
 thing good from "left over chicken pie, 
 to tater pone." His generous hostess 
 kept on bringing out food, and before he 
 could remonstrate, she 
 had actually made fresh 
 coffee! 
 
 "Hit sholy do he'p 
 my lone speerits, Brud- 
 der Sneezeweed, to have a gawdly, young, 
 handsome preacher, like yo' is, to come 
 in 'casionally and share a humble snack 
 of vittles wid me. Hit is good to hear 
 yo' chaw it, and see how yo' relishes it! 
 Cose I mustn't be onreasonable and speck 
 103 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * Jj * * * * 
 
 to see yo' too often, kase I knows yo' is 
 pow'fully busy lookin' after yo' flock and 
 kaint be worried wid a backslidin' old 
 sinner like I is." 
 
 Her voice became quite eloquent as she 
 painted with a master touch her sympa 
 thetic understanding of the busy and 
 responsible life of Brother Sneezeweed. 
 She had an object to accomplish, so she 
 used every resource to restore their 
 original love. She related many of her 
 experiences, giving those of a matrimo 
 nial tendency a predominance, as best 
 calculated to produce the right condition 
 of mind. The influence of this treatment 
 was apparent in the humble tones of 
 Brother Sinkiller's voice as he began talk 
 ing. 
 
 "Hush up, Sistah Simmons! My 
 greatest joy is in lookin' after my sheep 
 104 
 
JEST MIDDLIN' PEART * * # 
 
 to see dat no wolves gits into my flock and 
 devours my lambs. Huh ! I reckon hit's 
 a po' shepherd dat kaint go into de moun 
 tains and valleys to comfot a po' offlicted 
 sheep 'casionally! Dey is jest as impo- 
 tant as de ninety-and-nine at home. In 
 de humbleness of yo' speerit yo' is stayin' 
 in de valley of de shadder of sorrer. 
 What am dis sorrer dat 'flicts yo' so pow'- 
 fully, my beloved sistah?" 
 
 "Well, Brudder Sinkiller, my sorrers 
 and sins am 'cordin' to de old hym, 
 'Many like de sands of de sea!' Hit 
 seem I jest natchelly love sin. De lone- 
 somer I gits, de mo' sinful things I thinks 
 of ! I'se allus had some one to comfot me, 
 and dis heah widder's life ain't 'cordin' 
 to my way of thinkin'. Sometimes in my 
 despair and anguish, I sez, 'git thee be 
 hind me Satan,' and he gits behind me and 
 105 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 foces me into still wusser things. I fits 
 evil from mornin' till night; but hit's jest 
 like tryin' to kill all de weevils in a corn- 
 crib wid yo' finger nails, de mo' yo' kills 
 de mo' yo' sees. I hates to t-to say hit, 
 my beloved pastor, but I feels like hit 
 would be best fo' yo' not to come to see 
 me no mo' till I gits mo' Christen-like! 
 I jest kaint tell what I mout do or say." 
 
 "Dat's all right Sistah Simmons, we all 
 is mo' or less liable to be tempted to do 
 de onchristen like things, at times. I'se 
 gwine to come over here to see yo' every 
 night; I done been neglectin' yo' too 
 much. Jest seems I'se been so busy dat I 
 couldn't git around to give yo' a season 
 able wod of comfot!" 
 
 Without the "hant" to aid her Aunt 
 Moriah would have scored no easy vic 
 tory; but the thought of her falling from 
 1 06 
 
\VY 
 
 "FsE GWINE TO COME EVERY NIGHT' 
 
JEST MIDDLIN ? PEART * * * 
 
 grace, the long lonely nights with a hant 
 sawing on his stove pipe, old age creeping 
 on, and the possibility of rinding no one 
 else that would marry him all these 
 broke Brother Sinkiller's spirit of resist 
 ance. 
 
 "Seems yo' is de onlyst one what can 
 comfot me, Brudder Sinkiller! Yo' 
 know since my po' husband died jest de 
 sound of a sympathizin' male voice nearly 
 throws me into a quaar spell, I means a 
 lonesome fit sorter like dem what yo' has. 
 Please excuse me, Brudder Sinkiller, but 
 my po' lips is jest hankerin' my Lawd! 
 I hope you won't think I talks other than 
 Christen-like, but yo' know the scripture 
 sez to greet one another wif " 
 
 "Wif a holy kiss my beloved sistah; dat 
 dey do ! De way yo' calls out scripture, 
 Sistah Simmons, shows dat de love of 
 107 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * Ji * jt * 
 
 Gawd is in yo' heart Nothin' else could 
 so quicken yo' mind, and make yo' ricol- 
 lect so well. I'd been tryin' fo' nigh 
 on ten minutes to think of dat scripture!" 
 
 "Go long, Brudder Sinkiller, wharfo' 
 was yo' tryin' to ricollect dat verse? Is 
 yo' thinkin' of applyin' hit to some beauti 
 ful onmarried 'oman when yo' sees her?" 
 
 "Never mind 'bout what I'm going to 
 do! Yo' is a good guesser, and I wants 
 to tell yo' dat I'se done found de most 
 beautifullest 'oman de good Lawd ever 
 made, right heah in dis kitchen!" 
 
 "Don't talk dat way to me, Brudder 
 Sinkiller, go talk hit to some young saint 
 what kin be of more service to yo' in yo' 
 preachin'. Sorrer and moanin' is fo' me; 
 not sich heavenly, blissful talk as what yo' 
 done said. I so misses my last po' hus 
 band!" Tears trickled down her wrin- 
 108 
 
JEST MIDDLIN ? PEART * * * 
 
 kled face. "We was jest crazy 'bout each 
 other. Please, 'scuse me, Brudder Sin- 
 killer, but hit seems I jest kaint hep 
 moaninV Then she wiped away her 
 copious tears with a red bandanna, and 
 her countenance was again illuminated 
 into a succession of 
 smiles, but a touch of 
 sadness came over it as 
 she said: 
 
 "I allus is had a man, 
 and I'm shoo gwine to 
 have anudder one fo' 
 long, if I has to marry outin' de faith." 
 This last was given as a kind of warning 
 to Brother Sinkiller; for any one to marry 
 out of their faith was an impiety not to be 
 tolerated. 
 
 It was a late hour when Brother 
 Sneezeweed arose to go home. His host- 
 109 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 ess accompanied him to the door, and as 
 a farewell word, asked him to repeat his 
 favorite verse of scripture. Much to her 
 surprise he kissed her, as he said: 
 
 "Dis am de way hit say to greet one 
 'nother." She almost fainted with de 
 light and said kittenishly, "Go on home, 
 B rudder Sneezeweed, fo' yo' disgraces 
 yo'sef by axin' an old 'oman like me to 
 walk to de altar wid yoM I declar' yo' 
 is a case!" 
 
 "Fo' I disgraces myself! Lawdy, 
 'oman, I'se jest waitin' fo' yo' to name de 
 day when we perades ourselves to dat 
 altar! I'll be de proudest man in Prune- 
 ville!" Then after another radiant fare 
 well, Brother Sneezeweed meandered 
 home. 
 
 no 
 
KAINT BE FO'CED 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 KAINT BE FORCED 
 
 ALL Pruneville was gossiping about 
 Aunt Moriah's and Brother Sin- 
 killer's engagement. The news had 
 spread far and wide, like wild fire; even 
 the adjoining towns of Phelps and Dodge 
 had heard the latest sensation. Some 
 said Aunt Moriah deserved to have 
 Brother Sinkiller for a comfort in her old 
 age; others weren't so considerate, and 
 said she was a marrying devil and would 
 yet lead to the altar the husbands of more 
 than one of the sisters of the Zion Evan 
 gelical Church. Those who had prophe 
 sied against her matrimonial aspirations 
 in 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 before, now nodded their heads sarcasti 
 cally, and said : 
 
 "She ain't got him yit! And until we 
 sees her lead him to de altar, our 'pinions 
 is gwine to remain jest de same." 
 
 On the following Sunday the church 
 was crowded. For the first time in its 
 history, every member of the congrega 
 tion was present; even Sister Elephanto- 
 pus Amazonia, who, owing to her avoir 
 dupois, amounting to five hundred and 
 ninety pounds, had not been to church for 
 eleven years. The fact was, she could 
 not get into the church, as the doors were 
 entirely too small ; but much to her com 
 fort, Brother Sinkiller had often assured 
 her that the gates of heaven would be 
 larger, and that even she could enter! 
 On this auspicious occasion she sat 
 just outside the church door on an 
 112 
 
KAINT BE FORCED 
 
 immense block of wood, formerly used as 
 a step to mount horses from. 
 
 Inside the church everything was bus 
 tle and confusion; a single glance was* 
 sufficient to tell that something very un 
 usual was in the air. Every one present 
 seemed to want to sit near Sister Slippery- 
 elm, who, as usual, was 
 the walking encyclope 
 dia of knowledge re 
 garding the new en 
 gagement. The brothers 
 and sisters were piling 
 into their seats; all 
 seemed anxious to talk; at last old Sister 
 Frazzletit leaned over the bench and 
 whispered to Sister Tempy: 
 
 "I spose yo's heerd 'bout Sister Sim 
 mons' 'gagement to B rudder Sneezeweed? 
 Don't you think dat was purty quick for 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 a Christian widder to git 'gaged? . . . 
 Yo' don't know what I'm talkin' 'bout? 
 Lawdy, goodness! Have yo' been 
 asleep? Yessum, jes' like I done tol' yo', 
 Mrs. Simmons'll soon be the Reverend 
 Mrs. Sinkiller Sneezeweed!" 
 
 Brother Sinkiller roaring forth denun 
 ciations from the pulpit was a prophet; 
 but Brother Sinkiller chasing after Aunt 
 Moriah was a subject for ridicule. 
 
 "Dey sho'ly co'ted mouty quick," re 
 sponded Sister Tempy, as she took a fresh 
 dip of snuff and passed her bottle around 
 to the other sisters. "Hit do seem like 
 she'd a moaned till the grass growed ovah 
 her las' po' husband's grave; but I spose 
 she ain't one of dem long-drawn-out 
 kinder moaners." 
 
 At this moment Brother Sneezeweed 
 arose and opened the service by prayer, 
 114 
 
KAINT BE FORCED * * * * * 
 
 as usual, followed by a hymn and then the 
 collection. On this occasion the atten 
 tion of the audience was divided between 
 him and the door. Anxious faces kept 
 watching for his fiancee, but she did not 
 appear. 
 
 They were all accustomed to being 
 shocked, both in regard to the sermons 
 and the general conduct while in church, 
 and they rather liked it. But this day 
 they were in for an unusual treat, and one 
 that would give much material for gossip. 
 As long as they could remember, Sister 
 Moriah had worn blacks or very dark 
 colors; especially her hats had been of the 
 most conventional colors and shapes, and 
 always suitable for a woman of her ma 
 ture years, even a saint after whom the 
 younger and more worldly women might 
 follow. But alas their astonishment 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS <* * * * * # 
 
 was complete when she finally did ap 
 pear! 
 
 No wonder that she came late, for 
 'Betty Morgan had spent three hours in 
 putting the finishing touches to her 
 make-up. She was indeed a wonder to 
 behold arrayed in a gorgeous crimson 
 gown, bedecked with floating ribbons, 
 lace, and spangles; wearing a bonnet 
 which seemed purposely designed to rep 
 resent a horticultural show on a small 
 scale, and with enough peacock feathers 
 to hoodoo the entire population of Prune- 
 ville. As a culmination to all this finery 
 and feathers there was perched on the top 
 of her hat an immense stuffed red and 
 yellow parrot, ravishing in its splendour! 
 Incredible as it seems, Aunt Moriah was 
 moulded into the form of a Venus, and 
 looked not a day older than twenty-five. 
 116 
 
KAINT BE FORCED * * * * * 
 
 She moved up the aisle with the grace and 
 dignity of a youthful queen, turning 
 neither to the right nor to the left, and 
 deliberately seated herself in the amen 
 corner. 
 
 About three minutes later old Bulger 
 paraded himself up the aisle wearing a 
 large red ribbon on his neck, and lay on 
 the floor near Aunt Moriah. A tremen 
 dous burst of laughter came from the con 
 gregation, relieving the insupportable 
 tension of their feelings. Some of the 
 sisters giggled and some sighed ; the men 
 actually swallowed their quids when 
 Aunt Moriah paraded herself up the 
 aisle. Old Brother Joshua nudged 
 Brother Zack and whispered, "She am 
 sholy some bird!" 
 
 The sisters were jealous; they had 
 never seen such wonderful colors, and 
 117 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 Aunt Moriah would henceforth be re 
 membered as the despair of all lovers of 
 gay colors and fancy dress. Even Sister 
 Elephantopus craned her neck clear into 
 the church that she might watch the ce 
 lebrity, and was so astounded that she 
 began talking aloud to herself: 
 
 "I'd never b'leeve that am Sister Sim 
 mons! If hit is she ought to be chuched 
 fo' dressin' herself up in such wo'ldly re 
 galia. Hones' to Gawd, if I was in that 
 chu'ch I'd riz up and leave jes to show 
 my natu'al contemp' fo' such wo'ldliness. 
 How I would love to punch dat boid 
 offen her hat an' grab her by the goozle 
 and squoze the breff outin her. She's 
 done gone and ruined the speeritual con 
 dition of dese po' men fo' de nex' week to 
 
 come." 
 
 This gossip did not reach Aunt Mo- 
 118 
 
KAINT BE FO'CED 
 
 * 
 
 riah's ears; nor would it have disturbed 
 her if it had, for she was far more inter 
 ested in flourishing her "hawk-tail" fan 
 with its numerous streamers, each sup 
 porting a dainty rabbit's foot. No one 
 knew better 
 than she that 
 this was her 
 day; and even 
 
 she was not aware of the climax of her 
 victory, until the church services, which 
 were unusually short, were over. She 
 heard several uncomplimentary remarks 
 intended for her ears, such as, "Dis is de 
 skandelizenist doins I is ever seed!" from 
 119 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS a 
 
 Sister Dilsey, and "Dar goes de peacock!" 
 from Sarah Jane Simpkins, safely en 
 sconced behind a nearby fence. Sister 
 Amazonia, talking to Brother Swizzle, 
 was heard to remark: 
 
 "I hears dat she am gwine to have a 
 pow'ful church weddin'; dat's her all 
 right. I sholy would love to quote a few 
 words from the Postle Poll to her on 
 pride." To which Brother Swizzle re 
 plied: 
 
 "Hit pears to me like she would have 
 a broomstick weddin', bein' as she has 
 been married so many times in church." 
 
 "Dat looks like weddin' paraphanalia 
 she's got on," continued Sister Amazonia, 
 anxious to draw him out on her dress, as 
 the huge ox-cart was driven up to the 
 door, preparatory to hauling the mam 
 moth woman into the vehicle. 
 1 20 
 
KAINT BE FO'CED * 
 
 "Lawdy, no!" replied Brother Swizzle, 
 but he was rather interested in this char 
 acteristically feminine subject for gossip, 
 and continued, "Yo' ain't seed no fine 
 dressin' yit; jest wait till dat conspicuous 
 time! B'leeve me, dat 'oman is gwine to 
 outshine de Queen of Sheeba on her 
 weddin' day! I knows her; niggers 
 am niggers!" Brother Swizzle nodded 
 knowingly as he reached for a chew of 
 navy. And so the gossip continued as 
 Brother Sneezeweed and Aunt Moriah 
 received congratulations. 
 
 In some way the news leaked out that 
 they were going to New Orleans to buy 
 their wedding clothes. This made the 
 jealous sisters fairly gasp, and during 
 their new excitement, as a climax to the 
 triumph of this matrimonial and religious 
 celebrity and social queen, up drove 
 121 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * # * # 
 
 Henry Neill and Betty Morgan in Neill's 
 big touring car, and took Aunt Moriah 
 and Brother Sneezeweed in with them. 
 Those few members of the congregation 
 that had started away returned to join in 
 the gossip. The sisters that had indulged 
 themselves in the dream of becoming the 
 future Mrs. Sneezeweed, were now most 
 bitter in their denunciations. Some of 
 the more worldly minded were even so 
 inconsiderate as to insinuate that Sister 
 Simmons gloried in the death of her hus 
 bands that she might again add to her list 
 of victories. 
 
 122 
 
SISTAH SIMMONS' TRIP <* 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 SISTAH SIMMONS' TROUSSEAU TRIP 
 
 TWO weeks later the Morgan kitchen 
 was the scene of much excitement; 
 the favorite of the family had returned. 
 "Oh, Aunt Moriah! 
 how happy I am to 
 see you back in the 
 kitchen." And Betty 
 knocked the churn 
 over in her excitement, 
 and laughed with joy. 
 "What kind of a time did you have in 
 New Orleans?" 
 
 "Lawdy, honey! Ef I ever gits myself 
 engaged again after my nex' marriage, 
 123 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 I'se gwine to marry in my moanin' clothes 
 fo' I goes to dat town any mo'. I jest did 
 scape wid my life; but dey got my new 
 red stockins wid spangles on 'em, boff of 
 my new snuff boxes, broke two of my false 
 teef out, stole three yards of weddin' 
 veilin' wif a pink border, tuck one of my 
 green garters wif a weddin' epigram writ 
 in Grick and 'gin to me by my fleanchee. 
 Dat very garter I was hopin' to wear to 
 my funeral. Yessum, dey got my palm 
 leaf fan and bull-frog snuff box. Dat 
 box was de quaarest thing I ever see, you 
 could jest squeeze de end of it and so hep 
 me Gawd ef de mouff wouldn't open so 
 you could take a dip, but dey took it wif 
 lots of other things. I wouldn't a-cared 
 fo' nothin' if they hadn't tooken my chim- 
 mey, what I done paid fo' dollars and 
 leben cents fo'. Law, chile, it had a little 
 124 
 
SISTAH SIMMONS' TRIP * * * 
 
 spider's web worked on the front, and all 
 round the boos'm was little teenchy red 
 spiders. Huh, dat was some weddin' 
 chimmey!" 
 
 " My, but you did have some misfor 
 tunes!" said Betty. "Sit right down and 
 have a cup of coffee; it isn't as good as 
 you make, but I have done my best and 
 tell me all about your trip." 
 
 "Well, honey, I tole yo' fleanchee, 
 Henry Neill, when I sez goodbye, dat 
 New Orleans had to apologize to me or 
 I wouldn't wipe my feet on deir streets 
 to save 'em from tormint. Lawsy, chile, 
 I sholy was insulted while I was speakin' 
 fo' female siffrage! Yessum, I done turnt 
 to a siffrigist; I'm clean fo' 'em, and if 
 Sinkiller Sneezewood ain't one of 'em 
 purty soon, he ain't nevah gwine to lead 
 Mrs. Simmons to no altar as his bride. 
 125 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 I'd let de moths eat all my weddin' 
 clothes fust!" 
 
 "Did you buy any nice things besides 
 those that were stolen from you?" asked 
 Betty. "And where in the world did you 
 get so much money?" 
 
 "Don't axe me so many questions, 
 honey, till I tells yo' some of de numuous 
 things pesterin' my mind. Hones' I'se 
 got so much to say dat I hardly knows 
 whar to 'gin. In de fust place, I knows 
 yo' is gwine to be terribly ang'y wid me, 
 but I jest had to use my own jedgmint in 
 de mattah, and I knowed yo' was so young 
 and foolish dat yo' didn't know jest what 
 was de best thing to be done. Well, I'se 
 done gone and done hit !" she chuckled 
 to herself, trying to suppress her fits of 
 laughter till Betty was wild with curi 
 osity. 
 
 126 
 
SISTAH SIMMONS' TRIP J * * 
 
 "But," continued Aunt Moriah, 
 "Henry Neill sholy did relish dem home 
 made molasses; Gawd knows he done et 
 de las' drap of 'em fo' I left dar!" 
 
 "Surely, Aunt Moriah, you didn't 
 carry Mr. Neill a jug of 
 molasses clear to New 
 Orleans?" asked Betty in 
 despair. 
 
 "Dat's zackly what I 
 done, honey, and dat 
 warn't all I fetched him. 
 I karried him three godes of my fresh 
 soap, two dominecker pullets, so fat dat 
 dey could scacely walk, one of Marse 
 Lije's fresh shoate hams, two strings of 
 red peppers and onions, one peck of goo 
 bers dat I grabbled myse'f, a kerosine can 
 of fresh butter milk, and a bundle of 
 roots and yarbs to physic hissef wid when 
 127 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS <* * * * * # 
 
 he is sick. Dem yarbs am pow'fully good 
 for livah trubble, fits, dropsy, and all sich 
 ailments." 
 
 "For heaven's sake!" exclaimed Betty. 
 "What in the world did you take all 
 those things for?" 
 
 "Huh, I reckon a lady kin take her 
 city f rens a few raisins from de kintry, ef 
 she want to, specially if she's gwine to be 
 intertained fo' any length of time! Oh, 
 dat sholy was a fine trip on dem cars ! I 
 left dat Sinkiller nigger to watch de 
 things whilst I went down near de branch 
 to git me some good tooth brushes, dem 
 sarsasspharass sprouts make de very best, 
 and I knowed dar warn't none in New 
 Orleans. 
 
 "Well, when I come back from de 
 branch what does yo' think I found? 
 Dr. Sinkiller was sleepin' sound as a log; 
 
 128 
 
SISTAH SIMMONS' TRIP * * * 
 
 dem po' pullets was pantin' fo' breff, and 
 de ants was crawlin' all in my molasses. 
 De fust thing I knowed I hears dem cars 
 comin' ramblin' and snortin' down de 
 track, goin' I speck 'bout a million miles 
 a minit. 'Wake! Wake up! dar,' I 
 shouted. 'Wake up, man, and git on de 
 cars!' Den I growed angry and jest 
 natchelly whipped him up wid my sass- 
 frass sprouts. But Lawsy, by dat time I 
 had grabbed up most of de things and dat 
 fool train hadn't even hesitated, but was 
 flyin' around de curve, I chased after hit 
 hollerin' de engineer to stop ; but he jest 
 wave his hand at me and laff and by dat 
 time de train was clear outin' sight. So 
 we waited till one come along what did 
 stop and got on. 
 
 " 'Twarn't long till de boss of de kar 
 come along. Dr. Sneezeweed was snor- 
 129 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 in' so loud dat even de pullets cackled, 
 so I didn't want to wake him up, and I 
 give boff de tickets to de boss. Cose I is 
 rid on de cars befo' and I knows all about 
 hit. Well, dat boss of de car sholy am 
 one sociable gentlemanlified pusson. He 
 done 'gin axin' me questions in de most 
 politest manner. He say: 
 
 " 'Is yo' got everything wid yo' dat yo' 
 intended to bring?' 
 
 "I 'low dat I sholy have from 'lasses to 
 yarbs and roots fo' Henry Neill's ail 
 ments. 
 
 "Next thing I knowed we was close to 
 New Orleans; and it 'peared like I was 
 never gwine to git Dr. Sinkiller awake. 
 Dat nigger was so sleepy and stupid dat 
 I actually had to give him a leetle of my 
 blackberry juice, what I had brung along 
 in a vinegar bottle, to wake him up. Dat 
 130 
 
'Yo' AIN'T GWINE TO PUT ALL DEM TINGS IN MY MACHINE' 
 
SISTAH SIMMONS' TRIP * * * 
 
 kinder acted like a toddy and he hilt his 
 haid up like dem town niggers." 
 
 "Did you have any trouble in finding 
 Mr. Neill's home?" inquired Betty. 
 
 "Yessum and no'am; yo' see 'twas dis 
 way, I had done lost de number of his 
 house, so as dar was a lot of automobiles 
 standin' dar, wid fine dressed men by 'em, 
 I jest perculated to de doo and call out 
 loud: 'Come heah automobiler!' seben 
 times, or hit mout a-been eight. 
 
 "A great big, fat, grinny man, walked 
 up and sez, 'All right, lady! But sholy 
 yo' ain't gwine to put all dem jugs, cans, 
 baskits, and chickens, in my machine?' 
 I was already a-sotin' my gode of soap on 
 de front seat, whar I had done tied my 
 pullets. All dem other automobilers was 
 jest laffin', but I sot in the back seat. 
 
 "'Hush up dat talkin' to me, nigger!' 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 sez I. 'You'se my sarvint and I ain't de 
 kind of a lady to confabulate wid yo' on 
 de streets. I reckon yo' don't know dat 
 I used to be a s'ciety belle right heah in 
 dis very town! Yo' needn't think yo' kin 
 scrope up an acquaintance wid me !' Dat 
 brung him to time, and he growed meek 
 as a whipped puppy, and sed: 
 
 " Whar is yo' gwine to stop, marm?' 
 " 'Somethin' is wrong wid yo' haid, 
 nigger!' I spressed myse'f quite dignified 
 and lady-like. 'Ef I had knowed whar 
 Henry Neill lived does yo' think yo'd be 
 drivin' around on dese streets wid me? 
 Is yo' never heerd of Henry Neill? 
 Well, den yo' is a strange nigger in dis 
 heah town.' 
 
 "He shoo was tooken down, so I sez, 
 'Jest drive along slow, maybe I'll see 
 somebody I knows and ax 'em de way, 
 132 
 
SISTAH SIMMONS' TRIP <* * * 
 
 bein' as yo' is sich a greenho'n. But yo' 
 is bleeged to diskiver whar Henry Neill 
 libes, and take me dar or I ain't gwine to 
 pay yo' nary cent, and I'm gwine to stay 
 in dis automobile all day, if yo' don't find 
 him.' 
 
 " What does Henry Neill do?' sez he. 
 
 "Den I growed furagious, 'good 
 Lawd, man!' sez I, 'what does yo' think 
 he is been studyin' wid paints and brushes 
 all dis heah time, if he warn't gwine to 
 be a painter? Ef yo' will take me to de 
 police station I'll have yo' 'rested jest fo' 
 yo' ignance.' Den he got out and went 
 into a drug stoo, and come out and sez: 
 
 " 'I'll have to leave yo' at dis leetle 
 hotel across de street 'till I finds Mr. 
 Neill.' 
 
 "He put us out and driv away, and he 
 ain't come fo' his money yit. I spose he 
 133 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * # * * # 
 
 didn't have the narve to ax fo' his money 
 lessen he found Henry Neill. Well, we 
 tuck rooms in de hotel, but I didn't sleep 
 much kase of de noise dar was all round. 
 De next mornin' I walked out on de 
 streets and bless me ef dar warn't my 
 leetle Henry jest drivin' along in dat big 
 car of hisn. He sholy was glad to see 
 me, and he tuck me and Dr. Sneezeweed 
 right over to his house. Dar we shoo 
 lived in gran' style. Evy night we talked 
 till late, or went to shows, sarcuses, or 
 movin' pictures, and had one pow'ful 
 good time! 
 
 "But de best of all de times was at de 
 sarcus. Miss Betty, chile, dat tent was 
 biggern four meetin' houses. Me and 
 Henry Neill and his maw and Dr. 
 Sneezeweed all went. Dar was var 
 mints from 'possums to hippopotomuses. 
 
 134 
 
SISTAH SIMMONS' TRIP * * * 
 
 Hones' I scacely bleeve dat Noah hissef 
 had so many varmints in de ark. Honey, 
 instid of one sarcis dar was three, all 
 goin' at once; wimmen and men was 
 doin' all kinds of things away up in de 
 air. 
 
 "I jest did 'scape wid my life. Yo' 
 know dey fetched out one of de puniest, 
 meekest-lookin' mare mules, and de man 
 sez dat any one what rides Maud! yes- 
 sum, dat was her name kin have fifty 
 dollars. Huh ! I was gwine to have dat 
 money shoo! Jest de 'mount we owes on 
 our church orgin. But no suh, Henry 
 Neill actually hilt me, sayin' de devil his 
 sef can't ride dat beast. I soon seed my 
 error, fo' a po' fool man tried to ride her, 
 and dey picked up a baskit full of his 
 f ragmints. All we saw of Maud was jest 
 her tail stickin' straight up through de 
 
 135 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * 
 
 dust in de tent. Golly, she was an awful 
 mule! 
 
 "Well, den dat was my last sarcus, and 
 de next mornin' me and Dr. Sinkiller 
 packed our things, and Henry Neill car 
 ried us to de depot in his car. We rid 
 dem cars home, and de very next time I 
 gits married I'se gwine to marry in my 
 moanin' clothes befo' I'll go clar to New 
 Orleans fo' new ones. Yessum, Sistah 
 Simmons has done made her last trous 
 seau trip 1" 
 
 136 
 
B'LEEVES IN MARRIAGE* 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 B'LEEVES POW'FULLY IN MARRIAGE 
 
 AUNT MORIAH, with a sympathy 
 born of fellow feeling, had inter 
 ceded subtly, but effectively, for Henry 
 Harmon Neill with Elijah Morgan, and 
 Betty was to be married in January. 
 These were busy days indeed! 
 
 On this December evening Betty had 
 several friends present, including Lolita 
 Davenport and Minerva Quinn from 
 New Orleans, also Henry Neill and Bert 
 had come to spend the holidays. These 
 friends had come for the double purpose 
 of celebrating Christmas, and also to at 
 tend Betty's wedding which was to take 
 
 137 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS <* 
 
 place directly after. It was one week be 
 fore Christmas and there was much doing 
 about the kitchen, where Aunt Moriah, 
 as usual, held undisputed sway; and she 
 well deserved to, for no kitchen was ever 
 presided over by a wiser or more skilled 
 "boss." 
 
 The smell of pies, cakes, jams and all 
 kinds of goodies filled the air; for Aunt 
 Moriah was not only cooking for the 
 holidays but was preparing for the wed 
 ding feast. To increase the number of 
 guests at the Morgan home, Aunt Mo 
 riah had also added to her other burdens 
 and responsibilities that of hostess to sev 
 eral of her "country friends" as she 
 termed them, by which she meant to imply 
 that they were from the swamp lands. 
 Betty knew that if there was any fun to 
 be had that evening it would be over at 
 
 138 
 
B'LEEVES IN MARRIAGE* * * 
 
 Aunt Moriah's quarters. So, when sup 
 per was over and Aunt Moriah had fin 
 ished her kitchen work, down to her cabin 
 they went. 
 
 There sat Aunt Moriah before the im- 
 
 #^- v ' *=* -2 ^kto-4.^ 
 
 mense log fire, darning stockings, and 
 talking with several colored friends who 
 were eating nuts and telling stories. Her 
 eyes sparkled with pride as she welcomed 
 Betty and her friends to her cabin. 
 "Bless my soul, ef yo' all ain't come 
 139 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 down heah to cheer up my heart fo' 
 Christmas!" exclaimed the old negress, 
 gratefully, as she drew up the chairs 
 around the big open fireplace. 
 
 "Jest all be seated," she continued as 
 she piled her stockings and darning egg 
 into her work basket. "I was jest 
 mendin' my Sunday stockins fo' de big 
 darnce." 
 
 Bert shouted with laughter, not so 
 much at what she said but just from pure 
 joy in anticipation of the funny things 
 that were to come. 
 
 "Huh! Is yo' done forgot de manners 
 I brung yo' up wid, chile?" snapped Aunt 
 Moriah. "Dar ain't no impoliteness in 
 de wod stockins! I declar' yo' is gittin' 
 monstrous perlite since yo' is been away 
 to schule. I reckon yo' used to be pow'- 
 ful glad when Santa Claus rilled yo' 
 140 
 
B'LEEVES IN MARRIAGE* * a 
 
 stockins wid candies and apples and all 
 kinds of good things. Den yo' used to 
 climb on my lap and cry cause yo' leetle 
 stockins waren't big enough, and yo' 
 wanted Santa Claus to fill mine fo' yo'. 
 Is yo' done forgot dem days?" nodded the 
 old negress, triumphantly, as she saw 
 Bert's utter bewilderment at his exposure 
 before the girls. 
 
 "Oh, don't mind him, Aunt Moriah," 
 said Betty entreatingly, "we came down 
 here to get you to tell us some stories." 
 
 "Yes, that's what we want; do tell us 
 some," pleaded Lolita. 
 
 Bert had moved over to a corner and 
 was lighting a cob pipe which he had 
 recently learned to smoke. Of course, 
 Aunt Moriah knew nothing of his new 
 accomplishment. Her wrath reached 
 boiling point when she noticed what he 
 141 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 was doing, and her eyes swelled up as big 
 as a cat's eyes as she began : 
 
 "Well, f o' de good Lawd ! What is yo' 
 doin', boy? Ain't yo' ashamed to be 
 smokin' dat co'n pipe, right heah fo' yo' 
 Aunt 'Riah and all dese young ladies? 
 Yo' ain't no man! I 
 'members yo' was de 
 hardest nusser I ever 
 seed; ackually I had 
 to wean yo' fo' yo' was 
 one year old jest fo' yo' 
 smartness. Dathaidof 
 yo'n is as empty as a soap gode. Put up 
 dat pipe and 'backer fo' I spanks yo' jest 
 like I used to!" Bert grinned, and pre 
 tended to hide the pipe under his chair, 
 while Aunt Moriah continued talking. 
 
 "Christmas ain't what it used to be 
 when I was young. But cose yo' chillen 
 142 
 
B'LEEVES IN MARRIAGE* * * 
 
 don't know nothin' 'bout dem good old 
 times. Hit was joy from mornin' till 
 night; evy nigger on de plantation was 
 happy. We culled folks had our frens 
 visit us jest de same as de white folks, and 
 Gawd knows dis very old cabin has sholy 
 seen some darncin'! I has sholy wo'n 
 out many a pa'r of shoes in a single night 
 from darncin'!" she proudly admitted. 
 "Many of dem gals used to try to out 
 darnce me, but lawsy, chillen, dey 
 couldn't hold a candle to yo' Aunt 'Riah !" 
 She laughed at the memory of her vic 
 tories, and continued: 
 
 "I members one Christmas mighty 
 well! I sholy was de reignin' belle dat 
 night! I had darnced wid evy nigger in 
 dat house 'ceptin' one, and jest as me and 
 one of my gemmen frens was partakin' of 
 some 'freshments, dis man stepped up to 
 H3 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS <* * .* ^ .* ^ 
 
 me and sez, Well, yo'se darnced down, is 
 yo', Miss 'Riah?' I jest kinder side 
 glanced at my beau and sez, 'Hold dis 
 drum stick and tater while I walks off a 
 few reels wid dis heah man!' Bless my 
 soul ef I didn't like dat man so well dat 
 we darnced till mornin'. He sholy was a 
 terrible nice man ; he fed me on gum till 
 my jaws was tired. I do wonder whar he 
 is now!" She chuckled aloud at the mere 
 thought of the joy they had had. 
 
 "What kind of dances did you do?" in 
 terrupted Bert, anxious to lead her on. 
 
 "What does yo' 'spose I darnced? . . . 
 Of course, I darnced all de things dat de 
 tother ladies did, sich as de Duck Squiz- 
 zle, de Possum Waggle, de New Orleans 
 Moze, and de most hippercornotious of 
 all de Spider Leg Fling. Yes, I for 
 got to mention de Texas Twattle; only 
 144 
 
B'LEEVES IN MARRIAGE* * ^ 
 
 sich as had good forms could do dat one. 
 Hit's really a pow'ful sinful darnce, but 
 dem was de days befo' I got 'ligion and 
 jined de chuch. Lawsy, chillen, dem 
 folks used to almost pop deir eyes out 
 when I was doin' one of dem high-tide 
 darnces, like de spider-leg fling. But 
 arter I got 'ligion I only did de 'ligious 
 
 ones." 
 
 "Do tell us what the religious dances 
 were?" pleaded Miss Quinn. Aunt Mo- 
 riah looked around quickly, as though she 
 was astonished that anybody did not know 
 about the different dances. 
 
 "De onlyst difference 'twixt dem and 
 de sinful ones am dat yo' never crosses 
 yo' legs in de 'ligious darnces, while in 
 de woldly ones yo' does." 
 
 "I'd rather hear about how you resur 
 rected Miss Simpkins from the dead last 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 month than anything else," suggested 
 Henry Neill, as Aunt Moriah piled a 
 fresh supply of pine-knots on the fire. 
 He well knew that the superstitious awe 
 with which the negroes regard the dead is 
 incurable. 
 
 "Den we'll have it!" replied Aunt Mo 
 riah, enthusiastically. "But dar ain't 
 nothin' I tell you gwine to leak outside, is 
 dar? Kase dese is secrets of de 'Misteous 
 Lebenl' Well, it all happen dis way. 
 Miss Simpkins had died fo' de foth time 
 in three months ; evy leetle while some of 
 de niggers would go runnin' all through 
 de kintry tellin' de white nabors dat Miss 
 Simpkins had died agin, and fo' good, 
 dat is she was shoo nuff daid. And evy 
 time dey would git me to dress de copse. 
 Cose I didn't mind dressin' a rail daid 
 copse, but till I'm shoo hits daid, I 
 146 
 
B'LEEVES IN MARRIAGE* * * 
 
 wouldn't touch it fo' love nor money! 
 
 "Well, one rainy night las' month, on 
 de dark of de moon, Sis Calline comes 
 runnin' over to see if I would dress de 
 copse agin'. Po' Calline! she was jest 
 weepin' and wailin' and sayin' how de 
 po' copse had siffered so long fo' hit 
 passed away, and how it had sich a gift 
 fo' ailments of all kinds from epizudic to 
 locomotia ataxia; and how many orgins it 
 had to have carved outin' itself. Po' 
 thing! she said it hastened its death by 
 talking so much 'bout its opirations hit 
 was jest like other females in that respect. 
 
 "Dey 'lowed dat dar was only one 
 known disease dat de copse hadn't yit 
 had, and dat was de blind staggers. I 
 knowed dat was a ho'ses disease, but I 
 didn't say nothin'; I 'low to myse'f dat if 
 Miss Simpkins thought dat hit was a fe- 
 H7 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 male's disease, she warn't gwine to really 
 die till she thunk she had had it. So I 
 dressed myse'f up in my moanin' clothes, 
 and perculates over to her house. Lawsy, 
 chillen, dey was weepin' like de wold had 
 ended! 
 
 " 'Is yo' come over to dress de copse, 
 and view its last remains?' asked Sister 
 Dinah as she opened the doo'. 
 
 "I 'lowed dat I had been sent fo' and 
 had 'sponded fo' dat purpose. 
 
 " 'Bein' as yo' has dressed hit befo', us 
 members of de Ladies Auxiliary S'ciety, 
 and Misteous Leben, thought we had bet 
 ter git yo' to dress hit dis time,' sed she. 
 
 "I didn't say nothin', but I prayed dat 
 I wouldn't have to dress dat copse many 
 mo' times. Hit taint no fun to wok and 
 moan fo' nothin'. When I moans, I 
 moans fo' de daid! Dis fool way of 
 148 
 
B'LEEVES IN MARRIAGE** J * 
 
 moanin' fo' de live ones ain't 'cordin' to 
 my way of thinkin'. Huh, mo' dan once 
 dat very same copse had 'cused me of 
 flirtin' wid its husband, when I had only 
 tried to comfot him in his sorrer. Hits 
 a mouty unnaborly pusson what kaint 
 comfot widowers when deir wives is laid 
 out fo' de last yearthly exhibition. 
 
 "Wellum, fo' rispect, I axed about de 
 copses simptons fo' it had died. Bless 
 my soul! Dar warn't no simptons it 
 hadn't had from swellin' of de stomach to 
 fits and convulsions. Jest befo' its final 
 departure from dis vale of sorrer, she sed 
 it had been fastin' fo' leben days, but dat 
 it et a leetle snack of vittles a few minites 
 befo' it croaked, consistin' of three goose 
 berry pies, a glass of peach marmalade, 
 some spar ribs of fresh shoate biled wid 
 cabbages and onions, and a few fresh cu- 
 149 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 cumbers. Then I axed her what else it 
 et, and she 'lowed dat was all. I thunk 
 to myse'f dis would sholy be de farewell 
 time to lay dat copse out! 
 
 "So dey lead me into de deaff chamber 
 whar hit was. Dar laid de po' copse! 
 De pitifullest lookin' object I ever seed. 
 I knowed at once what was de mattah ; it 
 was foundered! . . . Yo' don't know 
 what dat is? Lawsy, chillen, dat means 
 it had et too much vittles! 
 
 "Well, I could heah de moaners in de 
 next room talkin' about its ailments, and 
 quaar simptons. But po' thing hit had 
 sholy been lookin' fo' deth to knock at its 
 doo', fo' it had been savin' snuff-bottles 
 since fo' de war was fit. It had saved 
 enough to put a double row around its 
 grave, and den heap up a leetle monumint 
 at its feet. It had saved its medicine bot- 
 150 
 
B'LEEVES IN MARRIAGE^ * * 
 
 ties to build de haid monumint wid. 
 How pitiful to see dat barrel full of pe- 
 runa bottles, goose-ile liniment bottles, 
 and all kinds of cans and bottles what it 
 kept its yarbs and roots in to physic itself, 
 but now it would save no mo' ! Dese was 
 its message to de cold wold of its ailments, 
 simptons, and sufferings !" 
 
 "She wasn't really dead that time, was 
 she?" queried Betty. 
 
 "Yessum and noam," responded Aunt 
 Moriah. "De fust thing I seed was dat 
 it wasn't good daid, but I couldn't make 
 up my mind whether it was Christen-like 
 to put it out of its siffrens, or let it live to 
 die again. Well, when I seed its stomach 
 movin' up and down I was shoo nuff mad ! 
 De very idea me wearin' moanin' clothes 
 fo' nothin'! Den I 'gins to move de 
 watah bottles and mustard plasters, and 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 my heart was really touched fo' the po' 
 thing. I found two thermometers in its 
 mouth I pulled 'em out, then I 'gins to 
 loose my narve, and de cold sweat jest 
 drizzled oflen me!" 
 
 "Were you scared?" asked Bert. 
 
 "Was I skeered? Honey, my knees 
 was tremblin' like graveyard bones! 
 Twice I had to take a teenchy bit of toddy 
 to kinder stiddy me; de idea dat de copse 
 was alive is what flustrated me de most. 
 De fust thing I done was to git me a big 
 pine-knot from de fiah place so, ef hit riz 
 up to fit me, I could 'fend mysef. Den 
 I calls out: 'Arise 'oman!' but hit jest 
 laid dar daid-like. Den I 'lowed dat it 
 couldn't fool me, and I placed two two-bit 
 pieces over its eyes. Hep me Lawd! 
 One of dem two-bit pieces riz up and 
 rolled often its eye! Marcy, if it had 
 152 
 
Jf 
 
 \ 
 
 "HIT'S Too BAD, BUT I MUST BLEED Dis Po' CO'PSE' 
 
B'LEEVES IN MARRIAGE^ * * 
 
 giped at me well, dis niggah wouldn't 
 be heah to tell de story!" 
 
 Her audience were in such paroxysms 
 of laughter that Aunt Moriah had to wait 
 until they were ready to listen. 
 
 "Hit twarn't so funny den," she con 
 tinued. "Well, as I was sayin' one of 
 dem quarters done rolled often its face, 
 and bless me ef its eye didn't open jest a 
 leetle teenchy bit. Lawdy, I was pourin' 
 cold sweat! I knowed what hit was 
 doin'! Shoo I did; hit was watchin' me! 
 Jest think of a copse watchin' yo' ! I seed 
 hit was tryin' to skeer me, and I 'lowed 
 dat if dar was any skeerin' to be done, dat 
 I had better do hit. So I draws my old 
 razor outin' my stockin', and I sez kinder 
 loud-like, so it could heah me: 'Hit's 
 too bad, but I must bleed dis po' copse!' 
 I seed my plan was workin' ; dat copse was 
 
 153 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS # 
 
 tremblin' wid de wiggles. Hit was pow'- 
 fully skeert, so I walked into the moaners 
 room to give it a chance to compose itself. 
 But I didn't say one wod to de moaners 
 'bout it still bein' alive, fo' I hadn't yit 
 decided whether to end its misery or not. 
 I heerd Sistah Dinah say: 
 
 " We must call a meetin' of de Miste- 
 ous Leben to decide on a suitable motto 
 fo' its tombstone, and git a preacher to 
 funeralize over hit.' 
 
 "I didn't have no time to lucidate on de 
 subject, so I jest slipped quietly back into 
 de deaff chamber. Quick as gunpowder 
 dat copse riz up, and outin' de window it 
 went! 'I is resurrected from de daid, and 
 now I has de blind staggers!' it scream, as 
 it run fo' de bushes. 
 
 " 'Come hep me, brudders and sisters,' 
 I called out to 'em. Into de deaff cham- 
 
 154 
 
B'LEEVES IN MARRIAGE* <* * 
 
 ber dey come one and all. But when 
 dey seed what had happened! out of de 
 doo' dey went screamin' and crying 'We 
 is hanted fo' life, lessen we run hit down!' 
 dey yells. 
 
 "Brudder Zack tore down to Brudder 
 Sinkiller's to git his hounds to chase hit 
 wid, but Brudder Sinkiller didn't want 
 his dorgs to chase copses, and spoke up 
 pintedly: 
 
 " 'Yo' is a fool nigger fo' chasin' dat 
 po' copse! Wait till de good Lawd 
 strikes it down! Wharf o' am yo' sposed 
 to chase hit? Howbesomever, I'm allus 
 willin' to hep doctah hit.' 
 
 "Well, I knowed de copse was foolin' 
 'em! But dey soon caught it; and it ain't 
 never been sick no mo' !" 
 
 Aunt Moriah walked to the fire place, 
 and after piling in several big pine-knots, 
 
 155 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 suggested their having an old fashioned 
 candy-pulling. This they had while 
 Uncle Zeek played the banjo. It was late 
 that night, when Aunt Moriah followed 
 them to the door. 
 
 "We are coming again to-morrow 
 night," said Bert. 
 
 "Bless all yo' souls, I wants yo' to come 
 down heah every night durin' de Christ 
 mas holidays!" 
 
 As they wended their way to the big 
 house, she called them: 
 
 "Chillen, be shoo dat yo' has plenty of 
 kivers on yo' beds to-night; hits pow'ful 
 cold!" 
 
 Two weeks later the big house was 
 lighted from top to bottom. It was the 
 third day of January and the Morgans' 
 home was a veritable bower of all that 
 
 156 
 
B'LEEVES IN MARRIAGE^ * * 
 
 the hot-houses of New Orleans and Hous 
 ton could produce. All kinds of flowers, 
 from roses to orchids of the rarest kind, 
 had been sent to this old fashioned south 
 ern mansion, where they blended their 
 wonderful perfumes and colors to add to 
 the attractiveness of the bridal day. At 
 Betty's side stood the man of her choice 
 Henry Harmon Neill. 
 
 It was a typical, old fashioned south 
 ern wedding, and the daughter was 
 bestowed upon the bridegroom by her 
 father, "Lije" Morgan. The happy 
 bridal couple were surrounded by friends 
 and relatives. "Lije" Morgan was pen 
 sive; no doubt he remembered the day 
 when Betty's mother, long since sleeping 
 on the hillside, became his bride. 
 
 At the rear was a group of colored 
 friends, dominated by the well known 
 157 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 form of Aunt Moriah. Her eyes were 
 filled with tears as they constantly 
 watched her Miss Betty, whom for eight 
 een years she had lived to serve and wor 
 ship. The minister uttered the irrevo 
 cable words, "I pronounce you husband 
 and wife," and Aunt Moriah, weeping as 
 though her heart would break, and finally 
 losing all restraint, cried out: 
 
 "Lawsy, Miss Betty, you'll allus be de 
 same sweet chile to me!" 
 
 158 
 
SANCTIFICATION 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 SISTAH SIMMONS' SANCTIFICATION 
 
 MEANWHILE with Aunt Moriah, 
 the course of true-love had not 
 been running smooth. It was generally 
 known that she and Brother Sinkiller had 
 been at outs lately; but that couldn't be 
 troubling her seriously, for he was ever 
 anxious to patch up the engagement. 
 Something had gone wrong; but no one 
 knew just what it was. The talk of the 
 scandalized congregation, concerning 
 Aunt Moriah's pride in the resurrection, 
 had caused Brother Sinkiller mildly to 
 rebuke her, and it was this, perhaps, 
 which led to their estrangement. He 
 159 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * ^ 
 
 kept resolutely to his duty, however, 
 subordinating his romance to his pastoral 
 duties and this caused him to refer to 
 Aunt Moriah in his sermon. 
 
 She had always been a faithful Baptist; 
 never once even questioning the Baptist 
 doctrines, but she had come to believe in 
 healing, and she was determined to make 
 known her belief before the Baptist con 
 gregation. They would either have to 
 keep her with her present faith, or take 
 her name from their records forever. 
 Many of the more sceptical ones scoffed 
 at the idea of her having resurrected Sis 
 ter Simpkins from the dead, and Aunt 
 Moriah herself well knew that it was a 
 fraudulent resurrection; but to the world 
 it had been a success, and she was deter 
 mined to keep on healing and resurrect 
 ing. As to the matter of conscience, that 
 1 60 
 
SANCTIFICATION * * * * * 
 
 was the least of her troubles it was 
 enough that she was ridding the commu 
 nity of chronic complainers ; and she was 
 also assured that the healed and resur 
 rected would never expose her methods- 
 such as she had so successfully employed 
 in Sister Simpkins' case. 
 
 But notwithstanding the sceptical scoff 
 ers, her fame had already spread far and 
 wide. Even the most irreligious believed 
 the spirit had cast a mantle of perfection 
 over her, and that in addition to her heal 
 ing power she was wholly sanctified. 
 
 During the spring months Aunt Mo- 
 riah was kept very busy in comforting and 
 healing the sick. One case especially 
 had brought her fame that of old Sister 
 Slipperyelm, who was the most noted 
 chronic complainer in the community. 
 She healed this invalid, secretly but sud- 
 161 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS <* <* * * * * 
 
 denly, and her fame as a healer continued 
 to spread. Just how she did it was her 
 secret. Even the whites were curious. 
 As summer came on, religious enthusiasm 
 began to grow among the congregation; 
 and they all looked forward with keen 
 
 anticipation to the revival services. Even 
 their flower gardens were neglected. 
 
 The first meeting was held on Saturday 
 night. Crowds were coming from every 
 162 
 
SANCTIFICATION * * * * * 
 
 direction to the Possum Trot Zion Evan 
 gelical Camp Meeting Grounds, the same 
 old place where they met each year to 
 pray and sing, and listen to long exhorta 
 tions. Creaking ox-carts filled with noisy 
 children, giggling lovers, "critter-backs," 
 pasture mules, "ge-hawing," "git-up- 
 Maud" from every road and path came 
 all kinds of quaint vehicles filled with 
 "speeritual seekin' " humanity bound "fo' 
 to git 'ligion." 
 
 Here was the gathering place of fami 
 lies, the reuniting of old ties, exchanging 
 of all gossip good and bad and all that 
 makes the meeting of old friends worth 
 while. Some weeping, some laughing, 
 they met together; many not having seen 
 each other for a year. What a confusion 
 and noise! Dogs were barking and 
 babies were crying! But all at once a si- 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 lence fell upon the audience, as Brother 
 Sinkiller arose; and after gazing over his 
 congregation, as though he were viewing 
 the future, his trembling voice was heard : 
 "Breddern and Sistern: Thank Gawd 
 I is still spared to see yo' welcome faces 
 once mo' I I has stood like an aged tree 
 in de forest of de Lawd, tremblin' from 
 de chilly winds of wintah and de scorchin' 
 heat of summer, but bless Gawd de herri- 
 canes of sin ain't blowed me away. Fo' 
 many moons I has seed de hand writin' of 
 sorrer and tribulation getherin' on yo' 
 brows; I has tarried wid yo' when you 
 was makin' mud-pies and frog-houses by 
 de little graveyard hillside up yonder. I 
 has been wid you when you was leadin' 
 sweethearts to de altar, and I was wid you 
 when you laid some of 'em to rest ovah in 
 de little buryin' ground." 
 164 
 
SANCTIFICATION 
 
 Audible moans and groans came from 
 all parts of the audience. 
 
 "Like Joshua I has tried to lead you to 
 de 'Promis' LanV You's heerd me 
 preach ; you's heerd me zoort ; you's heerd 
 me pray; and you's heerd me moan till 
 the veil of sorrer was lifted from my body, 
 but now you's gwine to hear me proph 
 esy!" 
 
 "Go right on, Brudder Sinkiller, and 
 tell this congregation what de speerit have 
 sed to you," moaned out Brother Cato. 
 
 "Tother night while I was sleepin' I 
 heerd a voice. Moanful! Moanful!! 
 Moanful!!!" 
 
 "Lawd hep us!" came from several 
 voices. 
 
 "Leben times hit say, 'Brudder Sin- 
 killer!' and leben times I arnsers, 'My 
 yeahs is open, Lawd!' So I'se gwine to 
 165 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 deliver my message in de form of a proph 
 ecy; deliver hit fo' de sun goes down on 
 yo' deef yeahs!" 
 
 "Have marcy on us! Have marcy on 
 us, good Lawd!" came in unison from the 
 bewildered audience. 
 
 "I hadn't mo'n gotten through speakin' 
 when the speerit 'buked me by axin' if 
 my eyes was open too. Den I 'gins to 
 look up ! Right dar f o' my eyes was writ 
 in fiery doom dese words: 'Bewar' of 
 false prophets who am 'mongst you!' 
 And I seed a vision of de jedgmint day!" 
 
 Agonizing groans came from all sides. 
 
 "Den I heerd a pow'ful noise of wings 
 beatin' in de air, and I seed winged horses 
 totin' angels on deir backs. De arch 
 angel pinted out to me a little flock of 
 scrubby lookin' angels, 'bout a dozen in 
 all, wifout no wings, and sed, 'Brudder 
 1 66 
 
SANCTIFICATION * * * * * 
 
 Sinkiller dem is all what we got from yo' 
 flock!' 
 
 "I moaned so loud, like Rachael 
 weepin' for her children, dat de arch 
 angel toted me down into de bowels of de 
 yearth, whar I wouldn't disturb de other 
 angels, and dar I seed a great crowd 
 a-moanin', and weepin', and wailin'. I 
 knowed 'em every one; dey was of my 
 flock. And 'mongst 'em was de devil 
 a-ridin' on a big black horse with red eyes, 
 and long sharp years, and fiah a-pourin' 
 out of its nostrils. Dis horse was pawin' 
 'em down wid its hoofs. De fust ones to 
 git trampled down was de sisters what had 
 gossiped about deir nabors. 
 
 "De devil could tell 'em in dis way: 
 every one of de hairs on de horse's tail was 
 actually a little red sarpint, and when de 
 horse passed by a gossipin' 'oman, one of 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * # * 
 
 dem little sarpints leaped into her mouth, 
 and et her waggly tongue clar out!" 
 
 "Lawd, pity us po' female wimmen!" 
 came from Sister Jones, as the awe-struck 
 congregation awaited in awful silence 
 Brother Sinkiller's powerful description 
 of the fiery regions. 
 
 "Den de angel showed me our Possum 
 Trot Zion Evangelical church roll," he 
 continued; "hit was all writ in blood, 
 and de faithful had red stars by their 
 names; but only de Lawd and me could 
 see whose names had dem stars of glory 
 by 'em. By de tother names was writ de 
 sins what kept 'em outin' heaven." 
 
 Groans and sobs were heard from all 
 directions. 
 
 "Well, I walked a little further, and 
 I seed a lot of fine clothes ; and de angel 
 told me dese was what shut de gates of 
 1 68 
 
SANCTIFICATION * * * * * 
 
 heaven to many of my flock. Dis finery 
 was de devil's glory, and 'mongst other 
 things I seed many grand hats wid fine 
 weepin' willow plumes. One thing I 
 seed dat sholy hurt my heart right dar 
 wid de tother woldly paraphanalia was 
 an old stuffed red and yallow parrot! 
 Jest think of a stufTed parrot keepin' an 
 'oman outin' heaven! Mind what I sez, 
 dat very bird b'longs to some backslidin' 
 sister in dis heah congregation. On jedg- 
 ment day dat parrot is gwine to scream fo' 
 marcy! 
 
 "Yo' kaint hide yo' sins on dat great 
 day! De last day is gwine to k-e-t-c-h 
 you; every chicken or shoate dat you has 
 stolen will be right d-a-r to testify 'ginst 
 you. All dat sweet and juicy meat will 
 be piled 'ginst de gates of heaven to keep 
 you out; and nothin' but a Sampson or a 
 169 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS a 
 
 Goliah can move it. Oh, thar'll be 
 moanin', moanin', moan in' 1 And that 
 day am almost heah!" 
 
 A dead silence reigned throughout the 
 audience; even the ticking of the Water- 
 burys could be distinctly heard, as he ut 
 tered the closing words in a husky whis 
 per. 
 
 "Den I heerd de thunders roar, and I 
 seed de lightenin' flashing and a great 
 crowd of sinners was marchin' towards 
 me; and a-leadin' dis crowd of sinners, 
 who does you think I seed? Oh, Lawd 
 have marcy! Hit was Sister Simmons! 
 After all dese years of sarvin' de good 
 Master, she had done growed tired of 
 well doin' and let de devil turn her haid 
 wid a few silk skirts, a stuffed parrot, and 
 a ride on de railroad cars. 
 
 "Yessah, in her han' was a fan wid lit- 
 170 
 
SANCTIFICATION * J * J * 
 
 tie danglin' things on hit, and on dem 
 dingly dangles was writ in blood, 'False 
 Prophet! False Healer!' And dat old 
 parrot was screamin', 'Los'! LosM Los'!' 
 Oh, S-i-s-t-e-r S-i-m-m-o-n-s, you kaint 
 f-o-o-1 Marse Peter on dat day. Ef you 
 ever squeeze through dem golden gates 
 yo's got to leave some of yo' finery be 
 hind!" 
 
 Aunt Moriah groaned and wept aloud 
 as her friends whispered words of comfort. 
 
 "Den I seed old Brother Isrul 
 a-snortin', and a-blowin', and a-totin' dat 
 basket of fat pullets what he done stole 
 from Miss Sims, and so skandously lied 
 about." 
 
 He waited for laughter to subside. 
 
 "Cose he was still claimin' dat he 
 hadn't stole 'em," he resumed, seriously, 
 "but hit 'twarnt no use kase all de angels 
 171 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 was dar to testify 'ginst him. Lawdy, 
 how dem chickens was squallin' and 
 cacklin'! And everybody was laffin' at 
 
 dat po' old 
 lyin', hypocritical 
 chicken thief. Dem 
 chickens will sholy cackle 'ginst you on 
 jedgment day, Brudder Isrul! Fo' hens 
 will cackle!" 
 
 Brother Isrul fell on his knees and 
 cried aloud for mercy. 
 172 
 
SANCTIFICATION 
 
 "Next I seed Sis Viney Green all 
 dressed up in finery, and a-drivin' a fine 
 horse. No, hit was a mule, and looked 
 like Napoleon. She was jest paradin' 
 herself befo' all dem wimmen to make 
 'em jealous, and tryin' to kotch all de 
 men. Oh, Sis Viney, ain't you never 
 gwine to tire of sarvin' de devil?" 
 
 "I'se a-gwine to sarve him long as I 
 kin!" shouted Viney in derisive tones, as 
 some of the sinners shook with laughter. 
 
 "Hep her, Lawd, fo' tis everlastingly 
 too late!" came from the amen corner. 
 Brother Sinkiller went right on. 
 
 "Den de archangel tuck me by de hand 
 and sed, 'Come on, Brudder Sinkiller, I 
 don't want you to see all dis crowd what 
 am comin'; hit mout discourage you!' I 
 jest kinder looked a leetle teenchy bit wid 
 de corner of my lef eye. Bless my soul 
 173 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * a * * * 
 
 if dar wasn't everyone of my deacons! 
 And pretty nigh all de female constitu 
 ency of dis heah conflagration. Lawd, 
 hep all dese sinners to fess up fo' dis 
 meetin' is over! 
 
 "Don't you all want to come back to de 
 fold befo' hit is too late? Don't you want 
 to quit sarvin' de devil? Now, while we 
 sings dis old hymn, if dar's anyone what's 
 tired of wanderin' in de cold mountains 
 of sin, and dat still hears de shepherd's 
 voice a-callin' him let 'em rise and come 
 fo'ward." 
 
 For miles through the forest rang out 
 in solemn tones, "Wandering Away From 
 Jesus." One after another of the congre 
 gation shouted aloud for mercy. The 
 Sand Hill congregation were quite as 
 much aroused as the Zion Evangelical; 
 never before had they felt the revival 
 
 174 
 
SANCTIFICATION # * * * * 
 
 spirit so strongly. When the hymn was 
 finished, Aunt Moriah arose, and trem 
 bling as though with ague, walked to the 
 front and faced the awe-stricken audience. 
 Her worldly pride had vanished, not a 
 vestige remained. She had no thought of 
 anything except repentance and a full 
 confession of her guilt. Her great hid 
 den sins had grown momentarily more in 
 sufferable. Turning so that she could 
 both face the audience and Brother Sin- 
 killer, she began : 
 
 "Brudders and sisters, and all my sin- 
 nah frens de speerit have moved me to 
 confess to you all fo' tis too late!" 
 
 She paused. There was a nervous si 
 lence. Brother Sinkiller stood impas 
 sive, looking into her face, but apparently 
 not attentive to what she had said. It was 
 as if his eyes had mounted guard over 
 175 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 her, while his mind concerned itself with 
 other matters perhaps his own sins! 
 Presently he drew a long wheezy breath, 
 shuddered, as one awakened from a 
 dreadful dream, and exclaimed: 
 
 "May de Lawd hep you, 
 Sister Simmons, to 
 'spress yo'self !" 
 
 Moaning and sob 
 bing could 
 be heard 
 throughout 
 the vast con 
 gregation, interspersed with calls of 
 "May de Lawd hep her!" "May de 
 Lawd give her grace!" Even the babies 
 had been awakened by the commotion. 
 
 "Yas, dat archangel done pinted out de 
 truff to Brudder Sinkiller. I is de false 
 prophet what he done had a vision of! 
 
 176 
 
SANCTIFICATION 
 
 I is de backslider what done jined hands 
 wid de devil, and let him coax me into 
 de ornery ways of de world! Hit was 
 trabellin' on dat railroad train to New 
 Orleans what done turnt my haid. Yes- 
 sah, we wimmen what b'longs to de 
 kitchen and wash-tub had better be mouty 
 careful how we rides on dem railroad 
 cars, even a leetle trip to Phelps done 
 turned Miss Agnes' haid, and made her 
 despise commonplace things! But de 
 devil is done cheated me long enough, and 
 I ain't gwine to let him cheat me outin' 
 heaven!" 
 
 "Bless Gawd fo' dat!" shouted Brother 
 Cato, as several shrieks and groans went 
 up from the audience. 
 
 "No suh, I ain't gwine to wander in sin 
 no mo' ; but I'se gwine to stay in de shel 
 tered fold, so hep me Gawd!" 
 177 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 There was another pause. The old 
 woman stood motionless with quivering 
 lips. Then, like a flash of lightning, 
 came the last confession. 
 
 "I didn't resurrect Sister Simpkins by 
 faith! No de angels bar me witness, hit 
 was by orneryness, and dis heah razor!" 
 And she drew an immense razor from her 
 stocking and dramatically waved it before 
 the audience. 
 
 "Hit was dis way," she continued. 
 "Sister Simpkins, as you all know, was de 
 nocountest 'oman in Pruneville; and she 
 was allus complainin' 'bout her ailments. 
 She was jest natchelly sot on havin' every 
 new one she heard of. Ef a misery warn't 
 in her side, hit was in her haid; and ef 
 hit warn't in her haid, hit was sholy in 
 her feet. She was gruntin' and mopin' 
 from mornin' till night, lucidatin' on her 
 
SANCTIFICATION * * * * * 
 
 suffrins and countin' de medicine bottles 
 what she was savin' to make her grave 
 monumint. Every few weeks she'd go 
 into fits and den into convulsions, and 
 from convulsions back into fits, and versa 
 visa till she'd die. Den dey would send 
 fo' me to lay her out. I done growed 
 tired of layin' out de live ones; when I 
 lays out copses, I lays out de daid ones! 
 Well, hit was de f oth time I had been sont 
 fo' to lay her out, when somethin' done 
 told me to resurrect her. And dis is what 
 I resurrected her wid!" 
 
 Again she waved the razor before the 
 audience. Some laughed and others 
 wept. 
 
 "How 'bout po' old Slipperyelm's 
 healin'?" came from the rear of the con 
 gregation. 
 
 "Well," responded Aunt Moriah, "her 
 179 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 case was pow'fully like Sister Simpkins' 
 'cept she warn't daid. I seed Sister Slip- 
 peryelm was gittin' porer and porer, till 
 you could actually heah her bones rattle 
 as she perambulated! She'd done lost 
 her narve and was takin' pills from 
 mornin' till night. So, I sot my haid on 
 healin' her. I borrowed de invalid's 
 chair from Mr. Morgan and put her in 
 hit, and rolled her down to de old wash- 
 place whar no one could heah us. When 
 we got dar, I sez, sez I : 
 
 " 'Sister Slipperyelm, you is lookin' 
 pow' fully bad dis morninM Ain't you 
 feelin' no better?' 
 
 " 'No'm,' sez she, 'I still has dat same 
 misery in my knee jints ; and a pain in my 
 liver, my kidneys is broke loose agin and 
 is jest natchelly floatin' away through my 
 stomach. I b'leeves I is got gall stones 
 1 80 
 
SANCTIFICATION # * * * * 
 
 jest like old lady Ramsey died of. Please 
 take me home and give me some mo' pe- 
 runa, and put a mustard plaster on my 
 kidneys. Po' me! Po' me!' 
 
 " 'But don't you think dis heah fresh 
 air and sunshine will make you feel bet 
 ter?' 
 
 " 'Lawdy, no!' she sez, as she hove 
 a sigh, and commenced talkin' 'bout 
 throwin' anudder fit. 'I'm goin' to die!' 
 
 " 'Yo's shoo you is, Sister Slippery- 
 elm?' sez I. 
 
 " 'Quite shoo,' she moaned. 
 
 "Then she commenced lucidatin' on her 
 ailments again. I let her go on fo' a 
 while, then I sez, 'Maybe you is right, for 
 you sholy looks like death was nigh on yo' 
 tracks. I kin already see de picture of 
 de graveyard on yo' thin face. You is 
 jest dyin' slowly, only a few mo' days and 
 181 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 death'll claim you! I've knowed hit ten 
 years, but I did'nt have de narve to tell 
 you. How I does hate to say what I must 
 say, but de sisters of de Leben Star Auxil 
 iary Society done had a meetin' and 
 pinted me as a committee of one to end 
 yo' misery in dis heah vale of sorrow. 
 Yas, we done prayed over hit and decided 
 that you shouldn't suffer no mo'. Hits 
 pow'fully onpleasant for me to have to cut 
 yo' haid off wid dis old axe, but I must do 
 my duty, beloved sister! 
 
 " 'Cose I knows in de weakness of yo' 
 flesh you'll try to argify 'ginst me doin' 
 my duty, but hit must be done, and de 
 sooner de better.' Den I picked up de 
 axe; bless my soul, dat nigger was white 
 as a ghos'. De perspiration was pourin' 
 offen her like de rain ; she had wilted like 
 a frost bitten tater vine. She sez, kinder 
 182 
 
"Yo' SHOLY AIN'T GWINE TO KILL ME?' 
 
SANCTIFICATION * * * * * 
 
 sympathetic like, as de tears rolled down 
 her cheeks : 
 
 " 'You s'holy ain't gwine to kill me, is 
 you, Sister Simmons?' 
 
 " Tas, my dear sister, but don't speak 
 dat way. Gawd knows you has suffered 
 enough, and you kaint last much longer. 
 Hit's my duty. 
 
 "''You has allus 'peared, Sister Slip- 
 peryelm, to be just and good in yo' jedg- 
 ment, but now I thinks you is a little on- 
 considerate. You has been an invalid so 
 long dat you has kinder lost yo' jedgment, 
 so de Sisters of de Leben Stars and de Sis 
 ters of Solomon, of which you was one of 
 de propoganders, is tryin' to dispose of 
 yo' miseries wid sisterly love. It am 
 their wishes dat I dispose of you, and thus 
 rid you of yo' sufTrins. 
 
 " 'Jest think of yo' ailments ; that pain in 
 183 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 yo' liver means slow death! Yes, my dear 
 sister, I cannot see you suffer any more!' 
 
 " 'Huh, my liver is feelin' lots better 
 now,' sez she. 
 
 " 'But,' sez I, 'yo' husband is daid, and 
 you ain't got nobody to live fo' ; you is in 
 everybody's way!' 
 
 " 'Yessum,' sez she, 'but I'm feelin' so 
 much happier now that my friends will 
 all be glad to see me.' 
 
 " Well,' sez I, as I picked up the axe, 
 Char's them kidney ailments! They'll 
 float away in this swampy land!' 
 
 " 'Oh, I'm a-gittin' so I like this region 
 fine. That water from Tilley's Lake has 
 most cured my kidneys.' 
 
 " 'But them jints of yourn is all swelled 
 up wid screwmatism !' 
 
 " 'Lawsy, Sister Simmons, my jints is 
 much better!' 
 
 184 
 
SANCTIFICATION * * * * * 
 
 " 'Sis Slipperyelm, you has been savin' 
 dem snuff bottles and medicine bottles 
 long enough to fix up a fine grave monu- 
 mint. And fo' leben years you has been 
 prayin' fo' dem spotless robes, and prayin' 
 fo' de angels to come arter you.' 
 
 "Den she tuck my hand kinder fondly 
 like, and sed, 'I ain't ready yet. De 
 speerit don't seem to speak to me 
 now.' 
 
 "Well, we sputed and argified ; finally, 
 I up and sed, kinder devilish like: 'Is yo' 
 liver feelin' all right?' 
 
 " 'Lawsy, yes honey, hit never felt bet 
 ter.' 
 
 " 'How about yo' screwmatism?' sez I. 
 
 " 'Bless yo' soul, all my jints is nimble 
 as a monkey's. De pain is all gone.' 
 
 " 'But what about dem golden slippers 
 you has been wantin' to wear so long?' 
 
 185 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * at * * * * 
 
 me.' 
 
 " 'Huh, plain shoes is good enough for 
 
 " 'I spose you'se sanctified and ready 
 to go!' 
 
 " 'Go whar?' sez she. 'To de devil is 
 whar I'd go! I ain't never had one drap 
 of 'ligion; I is de biggest old hypocrit in 
 de Zion Church, and I wants a chance to 
 live and 'pent for my sins.' 
 
 " 'Den,' sez I, 'bein' as dese am yo' feel- 
 ins, and dat yo' health am hincefoth per- 
 fict, and you promise never to feel bad 
 agin', or even mention yo' ailments git 
 outin' dis invalid's chair and wash dat tub 
 of clothes, fo' I lambastes you wid a sim- 
 mon sprout!' She moved! Dat's how I 
 healed her. But never agin' for me; if 
 de good Lawd fo'gives my sinnin' soul, 
 and you brudders and sisters don't church 
 me, I'se gwine to stay right in de narrow 
 186 
 
SANCTIFICATION * * * # # 
 
 path, jest tendin' to Sister Simmons' own 
 business. For I'se pow'ful busy dese 
 days!" 
 
 Evidently she was, for it was generally 
 understood that she and Brother Sinkiller 
 were to be married at the end of the re 
 vival services, that is, if they patched up 
 their disagreement, and to-night they de 
 parted down the trail swinging hands like 
 two school children. 
 
 187 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 HOW VINEY CUM THROUGH 
 
 TT was the last night of the revival. 
 -* Yet, in spite of the happiness that 
 awaited him, Brother Sinkiller's heart 
 was troubled one of his sheep was still 
 out in the cold Sis Viney. All day long 
 as Brother Sinkiller ploughed on the lit 
 tle hillside he had prayed that the good 
 Lord would touch Viney's hardened 
 heart, and thus leave an unclouded sky for 
 his wedding day. 
 
 An hour later, he and his old gray mare 
 mule, Nancy, had eaten their supper, and 
 Brother Sinkiller had mounted her back, 
 and started down the road for church. 
 
HOW VINEY CUM THROUGH 
 
 The aged preacher talked to himself. 
 Nancy seemed to understand and listened 
 with respect. Between them was a sym 
 pathetic understanding. She had carried 
 him to weddings, baptisings, and funerals, 
 and they had 
 " s o r t e r 
 grown up to 
 gether 
 now there 
 
 would not be many more days of hard 
 work! 
 
 "Git up thar, Nancy!" said Brother 
 
 Sinkiller. " 'Pears like yeVe kinder lost 
 
 yo' kalkalatin' 'bout the time hit takes you 
 
 to git to church! Haint ye, Nancy? 
 
 189 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 Howbesomever I don't want yer to worry 
 my peace of mind, Nancy, fer I want to 
 feel a thrill of grace and let my light 
 keep er-shinin' to-night. What I'm er- 
 prayin' fer is Sis Viney's return to grace. 
 Lawd, hep sich a po' worrim as I be!" 
 
 Unexpectedly, Nancy gave a snort and 
 shied to one side of the road. Brother 
 Sinkiller almost tumbled to the ground. 
 Then he looked all about, but could see 
 nothing that might have frightened 
 Nancy. Yet he felt the fullest confi 
 dence in her fright. 
 
 "So yo' seed a vision, Nancy I Well, I 
 had prayed myse'f to sleep, and was jest 
 leavin' hit to yo' to git us to chuch in time. 
 Lawd, fergive me fo' sleepin' while Sis 
 Viney's soul is hangin' over perdition on 
 a spider's web; hep her to cum through 
 dis very night! 
 
 190 
 
HOW VINEY CUM THROUGH 
 
 "De scripture don't say nothin' 'bout 
 she-mules seein' visions, Nancy, but I 
 reckon ye beeant sich a dumb fool that yo' 
 wouldn't see a shoo nuff meerickle speerit! 
 And de scripture don't say nothin' agin 
 hit; but wharf o' war yo' so skeert? Yo' 
 allus peered to be one of these heah 
 mode'n edikated mules!" 
 
 A few paces farther Nancy shied again 
 and slackened her zigzag trot into a nerv 
 ous walk. Brother Sinkiller was becom 
 ing frightened, and he turned his eyes 
 toward the heavens in prayer. 
 
 There was a moment of perfect still 
 ness. Even the whip-poor-wills in the 
 forest were hushed; not even so much as 
 the chirp of a cricket could be heard, nor 
 the rattling of a leaf or twig. As they 
 reached the old cross roads, Nancy 
 again shied so quickly that this time 
 191 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 Brother Sinkiller actually tumbled to the 
 ground. 
 
 "Well, fo' the Lawd, Nancy, what air 
 the mattah wid yo'? Whoa thar now! 
 Whoa thar I say!" And he jerked vig 
 orously at the reins, and climbed back 
 into the saddle. 
 
 "I guess yo' seed the Debbil! Eh? 
 He allus 'pears on the scene when ye be 
 fittin' sin. Yo' acts as skittish as one of 
 dem blame Sand Hill mules!" 
 
 Nancy trotted on a little faster, encour 
 aged by Brother Sinkiller's hickory 
 switch and spurs. They arrived at the 
 meeting grounds in ample time, and fif 
 teen minutes later Brother Sinkiller was 
 telling his audience of Nancy's three 
 visions. 
 
 "It was like this," he was saying, as he 
 described Nancy's visions with much 
 192 
 
HOW VINEY CUM THROUGH 
 
 enthusiasm, and ended by remarking: 
 "Po' Nancy! She's a sober minded, 
 konsiderate beast; all she needs is a leetle 
 salvation. I was jest spressin' myse'f to 
 night as I rid er-long that she and Sis 
 Viney was onsaved. But I haint er- 
 fearin', nor doubtin', but I'm clingin' to 
 the promis'." 
 
 "Amen!" came from half a hundred 
 voices, as some one raised a soul stirring 
 hymn. 
 
 When the hymn was finished Viney en 
 tered the tent, and stood in the rear. 
 Curious eyes were turned toward her, and 
 many of the saints were praying that she 
 be moved to repentance. Aunt Moriah 
 whispered to Brother Cato, "Viney will 
 sholy cum through yit, fo' she's wearin' a 
 pow'ful speeritual look on her face!" 
 But Brother Cato only breathed a prayer 
 
 193 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * <* # * * <* 
 
 for her return. At this moment Brother 
 Sinkiller called out from the pulpit: 
 
 "Brudder Isiah, lead us in praar!" 
 
 With one accord the entire congrega 
 tion got upon its knees, and with upturned 
 face the aged man prayed: 
 
 "O Lawd, we air heah fo' a puppus! 
 Night after night we have rastled wid 
 sin and de Debil. Night after night, we 
 have axed yo' to soften the hearts of all 
 the backsliders that they might return." 
 
 "Yes, Lawd! dat am de miff!" joined 
 in the stentorian voice of Brother Cato 
 from the rear of the audience. 
 
 "Amen! Amen!" came from a multi 
 tude of voices, as Sister Dinah shouted, 
 "Glory! Glory! Glory to Gawd! I 
 feel hit movin' me!" And she began 
 tearing her clothes and wildly waving her 
 hands in the air. 
 
 194 
 
HOW VINEY CUM THROUGH 
 
 "Sis Moriah," said Brother Sinkiller, 
 "will yo' please cum fo'ward and hold dis 
 saint to see dat she do herse'f no ha'm?" 
 
 "Yas, we's a-clingin' to de promis'l 
 Let yo' footsteps be heerd in dis audience, 
 Lawd! Soften Sis Viney's heart, fo' tis 
 everlastinly too late, so she kin cum wid 
 us to dat Promis' LanM Cum wid us 
 Lawd!" 
 
 "Oom-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m- 
 m-m! Amen! Amen!" 
 
 Some were weeping, others screaming 
 as they joined in the rhythm, swaying 
 their bodies back and forth. Aunt Han 
 nah's voice could be heard above all the 
 rest. Some one raised the hymn : 
 
 "Oh who will cum and go wid me, 
 I am boun' fo' de Promis' Lan'-e-an, 
 I am bound fo' de Promis' Lan'-e-anM 
 Gird up yo' loins and go wid me, 
 195 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 Fer I'm bound fer de Promis' Lan'-e-an', 
 I'm bound fer de Promis' Lan'." 
 
 "Yas," concluded Brother Sinkiller, 
 "we don't want to leave none of our sheep 
 heah below, but take 'em all to dat far 
 Canaan Ian'." Many "amens" came 
 from the audience. 
 
 "Sistah Simmons," said the preacher, 
 "won't yo' lead us in a reg'lar meerickle 
 fetchin' praar?" The congregation 
 again dropped to its knees, as Aunt Mo- 
 riah's voice was heard : 
 
 "O Lawd, cum down wid us to-night, 
 and turn Sis Viney's woldly feet back into 
 de narrow paff!" 
 
 "Bless Gawd 1 Amen ! Amen ! Amen !" 
 
 "Hep her Lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-rd ! Take 
 
 her by de hand and say, 'Cum on, Viney! 
 
 Quit yo' sinnin', quit yo' sorrerin', quit yo' 
 
 moanin', quit yo' weepin' and git ready 
 
 196 
 
"GLORY! GLORY! I'VE GOT IT AT LAS'!" 
 
HOW VINEY CUM THROUGH 
 
 fo' dat lonesome graveyard up yonder on 
 de hillside!' Uh-huh, dat lonesome 
 graveyard!" 
 
 "Oom-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m- 
 m-m-m! Amen! Amen!" 
 
 Viney was on her knees, mourning and 
 weeping, as she swayed her body back 
 ward and forward in rhythm. Suddenly 
 she stopped, and sprang on one of the 
 benches shouting: 
 
 "Glory! Glory! I've got it at las'!" 
 She stepped from bench to bench, scream 
 ing with joy. All the congregation were 
 excitedly shaking hands with her, as fast 
 as they could get the opportunity. Some 
 one again raised the hymn: "Bound fer 
 the Promis' Lan'." Viney swooned to the 
 floor; several men picked her up and car 
 ried her out into the open where she might 
 get fresh air. 
 
 197 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * # <* * * * 
 
 "Bless Gawd! She's got hit now!" 
 shouted Brother Zack. 
 
 At this moment, Nancy, the old gray 
 mare mule, appeared just at the entrance 
 to the arbor. "I am bound fer the 
 Promis' Lan' " was still ringing through 
 the excited congregation. Viney sud 
 denly sprang to her feet, and then into 
 the saddle, and before any one could stop 
 her, down the road she went on Nancy's 
 back, wildly shouting, and gesticulating, 
 "I am bound fer the Promis' Lan'-e-an', 
 I am bound fer the Promis' Lan'." 
 
 The congregation gradually broke up. 
 A trail of dust was still flying through the 
 air, and in the distance they could hear 
 Sister Viney's voice ringing through the 
 forest, "Bound fer the Promis' Lan' " 
 until it could be heard no more. 
 
 The little groups of saints gradually 
 198 
 
HOW VINEY CUM THROUGH 
 
 scattered down the various trails that led 
 to their humble cabins. 
 
 Brother Sinkiller's flock had all been 
 led into the fold: the horizon was clear, 
 at last, for him and Aunt Moriah, as they 
 walked slowly home together, silently 
 contemplating the future. 
 
 199 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 DONE GONE AND FO'CED ME! 
 
 TEN days later the country seemed in 
 gala costume. Brilliant flowers, 
 delightfully fragrant, rose from their 
 
 trembling stalks. 
 The wind, sweet 
 scented from 
 
 blowing over 
 
 them, passed on 
 to sing its love 
 song through the 
 distant tree tops, 
 and answering 
 breezes whispered of peace and happi 
 ness to come. 
 
 200 
 
DONE GONE AND FORCED ME! 
 
 Back of the Morgan home the stretch 
 of brilliant sunlight was dotted here and 
 there by dark magnolia trees; and then 
 there were the crepe myrtle bushes, with 
 their dainty pink-fringed flowers, and the 
 cabin was newly whitewashed, suggestive 
 of the joyous feast that was to take place 
 within its walls, after the wedding. 
 
 That night the enclosure surrounding 
 the cabin was lighted with Japanese lan 
 terns, which floated jewel-like, in the 
 clear, warm, southern sky. It seemed 
 that roses never bloomed so red as those 
 on the great vine that climbed above the 
 door. 
 
 Darkies waiting for proceedings to be 
 gin stood about "gossiping and cracking 
 jokes. Some boasted of having been 
 present at each one of Aunt Moriah's pre 
 vious matrimonial adventures, and ended 
 201 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS 
 
 by saying that those who have had their 
 day should let the younger generation 
 have a chance. 
 
 Just as the moon rose slowly behind 
 the low, distant hills, some one broke into 
 song; a banjo began to tinkle. Slowly 
 the song was taken up by others, till all 
 were singing. They swayed their bodies, 
 now slow, now fast, as the song grew sad 
 or joyous. Then as they had started, one 
 by one they fell silent; and Brother 
 Isaiah, squinting his eye along the tail of 
 a small whip, ejected a half pint of to 
 bacco juice into space, and remarked, 
 half aloud : 
 
 "Brudder Sinkiller shoo did have to do 
 some cotin' to win his bride. But preach 
 ers allus do git de best of evything!" 
 
 "He wouldn't er-got her if he hadn't 
 been so pow'fully obstreperous in his 
 202 
 
DONE GONE AND FO'CED ME! 
 
 wooing!" replied Yeast-Powder Sal, as 
 the gossip continued. 
 
 The Sandhill minister was to perform 
 the ceremony. The white guests entered 
 the cabin and sat in state on long benches 
 that lined the whitewashed walls. The 
 ceiling had been newly papered, and even 
 the spinning wheel had been scrubbed to 
 a point of whiteness. Above the mantel 
 hung several old-fashioned tin-types of 
 the children of the Morgan family. A 
 close observer might have recognized the 
 baby faces of Betty, Bert, and Henry 
 Neill, who were there to help the nuptial 
 celebrations of their much-beloved old 
 "black-mammy." 
 
 Behind a bower of roses the large room 
 fell away into darkness, mysterious re 
 cesses, where, in one corner, could be dis 
 cerned an old banjo, carefully restrung 
 203 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * * * * * * 
 
 and tuned for this auspicious occasion. 
 
 "Brudder Sinkiller ain't nothin' but a 
 silk hat, a white shirt and legs, and a haid 
 what's done gone to seed like a cabbage!" 
 exclaimed some one, to the uproarious 
 amusement of the whole dusky crowd. 
 
 "Huh I" came the voice of Viney Green 
 with a giggle. "Has any of yo' all done 
 beared if he's told Sister Simmons about 
 dem nightmares of his'n?" 
 
 "Lawsy, honey, dem warn't nothin' but 
 lonesome fits; any man's liable to have 
 'em till he marries," replied Sister Jonas, 
 and added, "He sholy am a fine feathered 
 he-bird! And jest to think he's a 
 preacher!" 
 
 At this moment a grumbling noise was 
 
 heard at the back gate, and lo and behold ! 
 
 there stood poor old Sister Elephanto- 
 
 pus, grunting and puffing like a steam en- 
 
 204 
 
DONE GONE AND FORCED ME! 
 
 gine. "Come right on through, Sister," 
 said one of the sages. "That thar gate 
 mayn't be as wide as the gates of heaven, 
 but it shoo am biggern our church doo' !" 
 
 Sister Elephantopus entered the yard, 
 came near the door, then leaned forward, 
 where she could see the bride and groom 
 in the cabin, and her happiness was com 
 plete. 
 
 They were sitting under the bower. 
 Aunt Moriah wore a single wreath of 
 small white roses in her hair, and her 
 long, flowing white bridal veil had been 
 carefully made and arranged by Betty. 
 Her dress was made of white satin, with 
 an overdress of thin white netting. Long 
 white gloves, and a pair of white slippers, 
 completed her costume. She carried a 
 large bunch of orange blossoms. 
 
 The atmosphere was cool, clear, and 
 205 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS * 
 
 tranquil. There was a spirit of harmony 
 throughout the vast gathering; it seemed 
 a moment of transition ; the past was fad 
 ing, the future was still dim. The bride 
 seemed a little sad, and perhaps a little 
 careworn for to her there was in this 
 ceremony all the religious sanctity of a 
 divine judgment but the lines of her old 
 face could not hide its kindliness and 
 geniality. 
 
 Betty and Bert scanned her with some 
 anxiety; she would always be their dearest 
 family treasure. 
 
 Miss Agnes and Lolita were the two 
 maids of honor. One may be sufficient 
 for ordinary individuals, but Aunt Mo- 
 riah would not hear of entering the bonds 
 of matrimony so scantily supplied. 
 
 When the appointed hour arrived, the 
 bridal party marched into the yard, and 
 206 
 
EVERY IMAGINABLE GOOD THING TO EAT 
 
DONE GONE AND FORCED ME! 
 
 grouped themselves under the big mag 
 nolia tree. "How romantic!" Betty ex 
 claimed. Surely it was but fitting that 
 such should be the climax of the long and 
 constant, if at times uncertain, courtship 
 of this beloved "ever-youthful" couple. 
 
 Then the ceremony took place; and 
 afterwards the guests flocked around the 
 bride and groom, congratulating them. 
 Around rows of tables where the wedding, 
 feast was laid, old southern style, they 
 sat to eat and drink to the health and hap 
 piness of the couple. There was every 
 imaginable good thing to eat; cakes and 
 pies, all shapes and sizes ; all meats from 
 turkey with cranberry sauce, to 'possum 
 and yam potatoes. During the dinner, 
 which lasted until near dawn, plantation 
 melodies were played and sung. Rows of 
 negro "brothers" with banjos and guitars 
 207 
 
SIGNS IS SIGNS # * * * Jj Jj 
 
 kept the atmosphere filled with melody, 
 while several "sisters" did respectable 
 "Texas flings." 
 
 And Betty, Agnes and Lolita handed 
 around the coffee in thin white china 
 cups with flowing ribbons and wonderful 
 little cupids painted on them. One not 
 accustomed to such scenes would have 
 been surprised not only at the excellence 
 of the feast, but at the delightful success 
 of the entire affair. Finally, however, 
 Lolita disappeared, and she and Bert 
 were seen walking toward the garden, 
 arm in arm, where they seated themselves 
 under a huge oak tree. 
 
 "I allus is 'zortin' on my weddin' day," 
 said Aunt Moriah. "Them chillens is 
 gwine to git married yit; fo' signs is 
 signs 1" 
 
 As the sun rose over the hills the old 
 208 
 
DONE GONE AND FO'CED ME! 
 
 couple said good morning, instead of 
 good night, and went slowly down the 
 path. The crowd watched them, till in 
 the distance, silhouetted against the faint 
 
 light, they seemed to form one being, as 
 they disappeared around the side of 
 Brother Sinkiller's cabin. 
 
 "Yes, signs are signs," said Betty, "and 
 I think they are generally happy signs." 
 
 THE END 
 
 209 
 
THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 RENEWED BOOKS ARE SUBJECT TO IMMEDIATE 
 RECALL 
 
 LIBRARY, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, DAVIS 
 
 Book Slip-25m-6,'66(G3855s4)458 
 
N9 545913 
 
 Dixon, R. 
 
 Signs is 
 signs* 
 
 PS3507 
 
 1927 
 
 S5 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS