tfplnn JUL VOL. II., NO. 12. THE HARSH TREATMENT OF CICERO TRUBY PINEIIURST, N. C, JAN. 13, 1899. PRICE THREE CENTS. 'Very well, Cicero, go a-head with your explanatory remarks and don't lie, if you can help it."' all (Written for The Outlook.) concluded, j "H'ull, you see, Mars Julius, 't war ".wiiwiiiu j i'ino i4 ii no. uiMY o uic vm uis jcic uie coat uat I se got health, an' how s yore tambly ? I hope oat uster b'long to Mr. Dewey V(u-uns is right peart dis mawniif." uif lie an' I had a promulgation 'bout hit The old man bowed very low, and then, way back in las' Jinerwerry, an' he done pulling his head on one-side with an in- promise hit tome, ez soon ez he v; giatiaiing grin, auvaneeu to warn Mickle wiu inc. jsut lie kej) a wearin' hit holding out a long envelope, once white, an' 11 wearin' hit, an' I 'gun to git mMitv but now very grimy with handling. skeered, I did, for fear he'd jest natchel 'What's this':'"' asked the lawyer, eye- W wear de coat out. A if besides all dat ing both the envelope and its bearer 1 war a needuf hit powerful bad at de w ith extreme disfavor, and making no same identikeler time. So every now an motion toward taking what Cicero of- (en I'd jist 'mind him of his promise, an feral him. "What are you trying to im- say : 'Jest you wait, Cicero, leetle pose on the long suffering public with hit longer, he 'most ready to shed dis now, you old hypocrite? Some sort of yere gyarment, an' dis yere ole body a subscription paper, 111 be bound. CO() Mini t hab no use for 'em much 15ut 'taint any good coming here with it. mo-' Den he'd look sorter mo'nful an I've got other use for my money than S offmutterin' somepin' 'bout dat 'pore supporting you and your family in idle- foolish boy, Robert.' Wall, things went turpentine on pate, Cicero. on 'bout like dat ontwel " "Oh, come, come!" exclaimed Miekte impatiently, "what is the use of all that? Tell me about these papers, if ness. Just you go to work old man. You'll lind it easier in the long run than toting these subscription papers 'round." "H-b-but, Mars Julius," stuttered Cicero, in his eagerness to set himself Vu know anything to tell.'' iigm, ".vou-uns is mistooken. Dis yere "Just you hole on, Mars Julius aint no 'seription paper. De ole man Don't be oneasv, Ise a-comiif to dat aint tryiif to 'pose on nobuddy nor nuf- Ez I war sayin', things went on dat a im. Jest you look at de dockymunts way ontwel de fust of April a week, what's inside dis yere en' lope, an' den reckon, a iter ole Mis' Dewey died. you'll feel right down sorry dat you war jist a-passiif one ebeniif'bout half spoke so ha'sh to ole uncle Cicero, an hour by sun, when 1 seed dis yere ole Deed you will, sah." coat a-hangiif on de paliif ob de gyardin 1 letding to the old man s importunity, fence back ob Mr. Dewev's house. Hit and being, indeed, somewhat stirred to war on de behine-mos' part ob de gyai curiosity by his air of mystery and im- din", an de outside ob de fence." lMdtance, Mickie took the dirty envelope At this point Mickle stamped his foot rather gingerly, and proceeded to ac- and swore with such energy that the quaint himself with its contents. old man fell into one of his stuttering He was so long in doing this, and was tits and could not get on for several so utterly oblivious of Cicero Truby all minutes. At last lie managed to take up the while, that the latter gentleman be- his story again where he had been scared came very uneasy, lie coughed slightly out of it. iiom time to time, ducked his head, rolled "Dis yere coat hung on de paliif jist his eyes, grinned, sniggered, scraped natehelly pintiif right towards my half, with his feet, dropped his hat and, in an, says I to myself, 'Cicero Truby, you getting down after it, knocked over a tall ongrateful ole nigger, whail'ur you been wooden stool, which fell with a. tremen- thinkiif dat Mr. Dewey warn't gwine to dous clatter. But still the lawyer did gib you dis yere coat? See dar, now, he "t look ui) from the mmiM-a im wjia ro:wl. 'member bow vou been axiif for dat 'g through so carefully. coat a heap ob times, aif he think p'raps At length Cicero could stand it no you'se 'shamed to ax agin. So he jist longer. He must talk or burst. hung hit on dis yere paliif , right where "1 war jist gwine to obsarve, Mars you'd git hit in a kinder modest, easy Julius, how restra ordinary hit war dat I way widout hurtiif yore pride. Now i. at up wid dat yere en'lope," said he in ain't dat kind? 1 says to myself. Alter a wheedling tone. dat good ole man hab tooken all dis The lawyer looked up from his read- yere sti ubble, you ain't gwine to dis'pint 'iig and replied with significant empha- him, is you, Cicero?"' si "Yes, Cicero, you have a great "But 1 thought you and old man Dew eptitation for finding things in a pecul- ey had a right smart quarrel last tiii" way. You found these papers, I winter." ''eckon, about two months ago, and now "Dat are a fact, Mars Julius. He done rd like to know where you found 'em use some 'spressions to me, sah, dat no il,il what you've' been doing with 'em all genimun 'ud use to annudder. But the time."" " when I seed dis yere coat, Ijist ferguv "For de Lawd's sake. Mars Julius, him to onct, for I knowed he had don't go an' 'spieion nothin' 'gainst Ci- 'pented ob his eorndue", an war wishin' fero befo' he hab time to 'splain hisself. to pour balm on dis pore wounded heart ri1 jist expound to you torrectly how dat ob mine." ve,,P en'lope never rt hvar befo' dis." "More likely he felt like pouring Hot your rascally old blue hat are you foolin around this way for, anyhow? Why don't you own up at once that you stole the coat?" "Stole dat coat? Mars Julius, 1 supprised. What kind ob a low-dow nigger does you take me to be, sah? T hear you say dat arter I'se been an' took en you into my cornferunce do hurt my reelin s powerful had. I ain't never said nothin' like dat to you, now has I? No sah, I woulden't use no such onrespec ful langwidge to no white man." "Well well, old man, go on with your story. If you tell me the truth about these papers 1 won't be hard on you for stealing the coat." Old Cicero cast a furtive glance at Miekle's impassive countenance, and recognized the fact that his ingenious fiction had been entirely thrown away He therefore laid aside the air of offended dignity which sat somewhat uneasily upon him, and resumed his wheedling tone. "He, he, he! Now ain't dat keen ez a briar? Can't no nigger, nor white man needer, fool Mars Julius. I tells my ole woman jist day befo' yistiddy dat Mars Julius Mickle ain't no low-down, oneddi cated lawyer. Don't ketch him studyin no law-books, savs I, 'cause he knows what's in em all right plum froo fruni beffimif to end. Y'es, sah, dat's what I tole mv ole woman." Mr. Mickle received this tribute with just the slightest possible smile, of grati tied vanity, and thus encouraged Cicero went on. "When I foun' dese papers in de pockit ob dis yere coat, mos' de fust thing I thought ob war to fotch dem right to you, torectly, for I said to myself, dar lin't nobudd' in dis yere ken try dat un- erstaif dockymunts like Mars Julius. But when 1 done heerd de very nex' mawniif dat ole man Dewey war daid, I war dat "stonished I fergit all 'bout de papers an' what you think? 1 jist went clar ofl'dovvn to Alabanf, a-visitiif my brudder, a if toted dem wid me. Now, ihft dat de inos' fergitfullest you ebber heah tell ob?" "But what made you bring "em back at all?" The old man wagged his head mysteri ously, edged a step nearer to the lawyer, and replied : "De troof ob de matter am, Mars Julius, dat I ain't had no luck since dese papers come into my persession." "Why, how is that Cicero?" "Wall, dis spring 1 'lowed dat I'd go into de well-diggin' business, an J done git me a fine win'lass, an' right smart of rope, an' two ob de best dirt buckets you ebber seed. Den I hires me a good strong han'' to dig, while 1 pulls up de bucket an' empties de dirt. What you think? De berry secon' day we war ukkin' dat fool digger-nigger leggo de rope befo' 1 cotch de bucket fair, an' down she go, blnn I top ob Ins head. Smashed dat nice bucket all to splinders. Den arter dat I cotch de roomatiz an' de misery in my bivas', a if de ole woman broke her laig, a if I done los' de bes' shoat I had an" "There, that's enough. Don't tell any more. I reckon you deserved all the had luck you had. Now, be oil' with you anil take care how yoxijind things after this. You won't get oil' so easy next time." At the door Cicero turned about and made a grasp at his last straw of hope. "Beckon you'll git a heap o' money for takhf kyar ob dose paper, Mars Julius," said he insinuatingly. Mr. Mickle seemed to be absorbed in examining the papers once more. "Don't you s'pose you could uflb'd to gimme 'bout a quarter for bringiif back " "(Jet out!" said Mickle disgustedly. Again Bobert Dewey sat in his bare little room reading a letter. It was not a beautiful letter to look at. It was bad ly written and worse spelled. It was worn and soiled from much handling and much iaunting about in Cicero Truby 's pocket. But Dewey took no note of these things. J lis eager eyes weie wet with tears and he read as one drinks who has been long denied. "Poor lonely old man !" he murmured, "and poor mother, too ! It never entered my head that they really loved me. If I had known it, perhaps I might some how have broken down the barrier be tween us." "My dear son," the letter said, "I'm if raid your mother and I have made a mistake in the way we tried to bring you up. I should Hue to make it right, it I could, but I suppose it is too late for that. I leave you what little property there is, and hope it will help to make your life some easier than it has been. When vour mother died it is only about i week ago she was dreadful set against your having it. She said it would only confirm vou in your sinful ways. We both agreed to leave it to a college for educating negroes. But now it is borne in on me that we were wrong. It is just as plain to my mind as if your mother had come and told me herself, that she thinks altogether differently now. So I have made a new will, and shall leave it, with this letter, to be delivered to you when 1 am dead. That will not be very long I guess, for 1 do not get along well it all without your mother. I hope you will believe, my dear son, that we have loved you all the time, though perhaps we have had a poor way of showing it. Please excuse all mistakes, and accept best wishes from Your affectionate father, John Dewey." "Excuse my mistakes, too, dear father and mother, 1 pray you," said Bobert Dewey sadly. "What poor ways we sometimes use of showing that we love each other!" THE EN' I).