Lizzie M. Holmes

Once upon a time a lot of people found themselves shut up ina place of total darkness. They did not understand their condition, did not know where they were, how they came to be in such a position, nor what was likely to happen to them next. They only knew they were wretched, hungry, cold and desolate, and that they wanted to escape. After a long time, the suggestion of something a shade less heavy than the blackness around them, glimmered in the distance. The people all moved toward it and it apparently led them on. At times it seemed to be almost a ray of light, then it failed to mere nothingness again. Yet they struggled on in its direction, feebly, blindly, and presently many believed the whole darkness was becoming less oppressive. They seemed to be in some sort of an underground passage, but whither it led or why they moved along it, they did not know. It seemed to be a kind of common impulse, that was all.

After a long, long time, it became light enough for the people to see a vague opening ahead of them, which seemed to load into a larger and lighter space beyond. The opening was high up and difficult to attain. The people hesitated. But presently one man and then another and another began to climb and at last they reached the opening and looked through.

Come on! they shouted. It is lighter and looks as though there might be more light beyond. It feels warm and the smell of good food comes to us. Come on, friends!

But one man hung back.

It is dark there yet—you cannot deny that.

It is a little dark yet, but lighter than where you are.

Don’t follow those fanatics! cried the man, Those men just love darkness! They are bound to inflict it on us all. Don’t even go in that direction. All we need is daylight — broad daylight.

The people who had climbed up replied: Yes, we know and we will try to reach it. There is more light this way and we will be warmed and fed; with new strength and courage we will continue the search.

So a great many of the people began to scramble up toward the opening. But the one man sat down upon the hard ground and said, How absurd! This is only a backward step. Light is a pre-requisite to a tranquil society and that is all there is to be said.

But the people scrambled on.

B. B. Hunter

Once upon a time a lot of people found themselves shut up in a dark cavern. They did not understand their condition nor what was likely to happen next. They did not kno that the tasks to which each was assigned would hav provided plenty for each wer it not for the masters who took so larj a proportion of what was produced out of the dark mines.

So, not understanding their plight in the least, they went boldly to making plans for folk that wer not shut up in the dark.

They wer not, however, entirely content. They wer, in all their parabled ignorance, wise enuf to do som figuring. They concluded that if, insted of producing for their harsh masters they could produce for masters of their own selection they would be much better off.

One of them once askd: Why any masters at all? But he was promptly told that they wer up against a condition, not a theory. How in the name of common sense, he was askt, could people get along if they wer not told off in companies, and regiments, and obeyed their masters. The only fear they had was masterlessness. Finding it necessary that they should hav masters it was deemd important that these masters wer kindly and benevolent folk — their own kind of folk. Warned that the harshest masters in the world wer those who had risen from the ranks they repeated their pet formula, which coms always glibly from the lips of people who do not know where they are at, and who did not understand their condition: that it was an inscrutable condition that confronted them, not a mere theory of masterlessness.

Who ever heard of such a thing!

Herman Kuehn

Once upon a time three negro slaves wer sent to the auction block. Before the fiscal proceedings, and while intending purchasers wer inspecting the varius offerings, one of the darkies whisperd to the other two: dar’s Squiah Thomas. Ah hope he doan buy muh.

Whaffur? askd one of them.

Him? Huh, he licks thutty nine lashes. But dar com Cunnel Simmons. Ah hope t’gawd he buys us. He doan lick but twenty one lashes, Cunnel Simmons do.

How fur away is Squiah Thomas’ plantation? askd Sambo, the younger of the group.

’Bout thutty mile.

An’ how fur away is Cunnel Simmons’ place?

’Bout twenty mile down Paducah pike.

An’ how fur is it to de Ohio ribber?

’Bout half a mile, right straight down dis very street.

Well, den, you all kin choose atween thutty nine lashes and twenty one. You’all kin travel thutty mile or else twenty, but Me, Ahm gwine see kin I get cross dat ribber.

But Lor’ bress yuh, Isom: whar’ll yuh be when yuh gits dar? Nobuddy to feed yuh or look out fur yuh.

Ah doan blame you’all fur beein’ skeerd to be ’dout no massa; But ef Ah gits de chanst ahm sholy gwine ter cross ribber no mattah ef merry hell is t’uther side.

But why not wait. Yo’ young yit; mebbeso de masters’ll git better hafter a while. Mebbeso de fashin’ll veer ’roun whar dey won’t whup more’n ten lashes to a lackin.

Ah doan want no lashes, Me; and ef I die fer it Ah’ll swim dat ribber ef dem gyards git as drunk tonight as dey wuz las’ night.

And swim for it he did.