Part 94 (1/2)

replied the officer, coolly; ”it is the joiner I want.”

”SQUASHY.”

Squashy was a contraband. He came from North Carolina. He was looking about Was.h.i.+ngton for ”a new ma.s.ser,” when Dr. ----, of ---- regiment C.

V., took him for a body servant.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SQUASHY'S SURGICAL OPERATION ON THE DOCTOR.]

The doctor was out on horseback at parade that very day, and the most that Squashy had as yet learned of his master was, that he was handsome.

”Dat's him! Dar's my new ma.s.ser! see um! see um! ridin' on hoss-back, dar!” exclaimed the contraband to a host of other negroes watching the parade.

That night, when the doctor returned to his quarters, Squashy came to a.s.sist in removing some of the superfluous and dirt-covered garments of his new master, amongst which were his heavy and mud-splashed boots.

The doctor was a joker. ”Now, what's your name, boy?”

”Squashy, sar; dat's what dey called me, sar,” replied the contraband, showing a gorgeous row of ivories, and the whites of two great, globular eyes.

”Well, Squashy,--that's a very appropriate name,--just pull off these boots. Left one first. There--pull! hard! harder!--There she comes! Now the other; now pull; it always comes the hardest; pull strong--stronger--now it's coming--O, murder! you've pulled my whole leg out!”

Sure enough, the boot, leg and all, came off at the thigh, and slap!

cras.h.!.+ bang! over backwards, over a camp-stool, on to the floor, went Squashy, with the boot and wooden leg of the doctor grasped tightly in his brawny hands.

”O, de Lord!” cried Squashy, rising. ”I didn't go for to do it! O, Lord, see um bleed!” he continued, as in the uncertain light he saw a bit of red flannel round the stump; and, dropping the leg, he turned, and with a look of the utmost terror depicted on his countenance, he fled from the apartment.

On the following day the doctor made diligent inquiry for Squashy; but he never was found, and probably to this day thinks he pulled out the leg of his ”new and hansum ma.s.ser.”

We do not know who wrote the following which is too good to be lost; hence we give it anonymously.

MOTHER'S FOOL.

”'Tis plain enough to see,” said a farmer's wife, ”These boys will make their marks in life; They never were made to handle a hoe, And at once to college ought to go.

There's Fred, he's little better than a fool, But John and Henry must go to school.”

”Well, really, wife,” quoth farmer Brown, As he set his mug of cider down, ”Fred does more work in a day for me Than both his brothers do in three.

Book larnin' will never plant one's corn, Nor hoe potatoes, sure's you're born, Nor mend a rod of broken fence: For my part, give me common sense.”

But his wife was bound the roost to rule, And John and Henry were sent to school, While Fred, of course, was left behind, Because his mother said he had no mind.

Five years at school the students spent, Then into business each one went.

John learned to play the flute and fiddle, And parted his hair, of course, in the middle, While his brother looked rather higher than he, And hung out a sign, ”H. Brown, M. D.”

Meanwhile, at home, their brother Fred Had taken a notion into his head; But he quietly trimmed his apple trees, Milked the cows and hived the bees; While somehow, either by hook or crook, He managed to read full many a book, Until at last his father said He was getting ”book larnin'” into his head; ”But for all that,” added farmer Brown, ”He's the smartest boy there is in town.”

The war broke out, and Captain Fred A hundred men to battle led, And, when the rebel flag came down, Went marching home as General Brown.