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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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“Hum!- none that I could well spare; to tell the truth, it’s only hard necessity makes me willing to sell at all. I don’t like parting with any of my hands, that’s a fact.” Here the door opened, and a small quadroon boy, between four and five years of age, entered the room. There was something in his appearance remarkably beautiful and engaging. His black hair, fine as floss silk, hung in glossy curls about his round, dimpled face, while a pair of large dark eyes, full of fire and soft- ness, looked out from beneath the rich, long lashes, as he peered curiously into the apartment. A gay robe of scarlet and yellow plaid, carefully made and neatly fitted, set off to advantage the dark and rich style of his beauty; and a certain comic air of assurance, blended with bashfulness, showed that he had been not un- used to being petted and noticed by his master. “Hulloa, Jim Crow!” said Mr. Shelby, whistling, and snapping a bunch of rai- sins towards him, “pick that up, now!” The child scampered, with all his little strength, after the prize, while his mas- ter laughed. “Come here, Jim Crow,” said he. The child came up, and the master patted the curly head, and chucked him under the chin. “Now, Jim, show this gentleman how you can dance and sing.” The boy com- menced one of those wild, grotesque songs common among the negroes, in a rich, |
