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Awhile; you never knew what chance might come

In such a storm . .

If he could only sleep

If he could only sleep... That rustling sound
Of drifting snow, it made him sleepy-like-
Drowsy and dizzy, dithering round and round.
If he could only curl up under a dyke,

And sleep and sleep... It dazzled him, that white,
Drifting and drifting, round and round and round...
Just half a moment's snooze. He'd be all right.

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It made his head quite dizzy, that dry sound
Of rustling snow. It made his head go round
That rustling in his ears . . . and drifting, drifting . .
If he could only sleep... he would sleep sound . . .
God, he was nearly gone!

The storm was lifting;

And he'd run into something soft and warm

Slap into his own beasts, and never knew.
Huddled they were, bamboozled by the storm-

And little wonder either, when it blew

A blasted blizzard. Still, they'd got to go.
They could n't stand there snoozing until night.

But they were sniffing something in the snow.

"Twas that had stopped them, something big and white — A bundle nay, a woman. And she slept.

But it was death to sleep.

He'd nearly dropped

Asleep himself. 'Twas well that he had kept

That rum; and lucky that the beasts had stopped.

Ay, it was well that he had kept the rum.
He liked his drink; but he had never cared
For soaking by himself, and sitting mum.
Even the best rum tasted better, shared.

JUPITER

BY LILIAN KIRK HAMMOND

I

WHEN 'Uncle Bob,' who for many years had served my brother and me as gardener, stable-man, hewer of wood, and drawer of water, quietly died of old age, Jupiter came to take his place. His former employer, Mrs. Crenshawe, gave him this amazing 'character':

'Jupiter certainly is the most trying darkey in Tippah, and he's bound to do everything in his own way and at his own time, if it kills him. He's lazy and shiftless and untidy, but if you let him alone he gets things done. Anyhow, I don't know how on earth I'll ever do without him, and I'd be perfectly happy if only I could keep him as long as I live.'

When I asked why she let him go, she said she had n't discharged him; Jupiter was leaving of his own accord because Mr. Crenshawe had given him a 'cussin'-out' for taking so long to go to the post-office and back.

'You know it's only a mile to the post-office,' she pleaded, ‘and Jupiter always rode, unless he was too lazy to saddle Dame,' - Dame was Mr. Crenshawe's white mare,-'and he hardly ever had any errands to do, unless it was to go to the bank and have a check cashed, or to carry round the notices of a meeting of the Woman's Auxiliary, you know I'm secretary, and it saves stamps to send the notices by Jupiter, or to fetch out some groceries, or to match some embroidery silk for me; but although he had next to nothing to do, he would be gone

three or four hours every day. However,' she sighed, 'the Lord knows I'm going to miss him.'

'Maybe he won't stay with me, either,' I suggested, cheerfully, for I felt a little guilty, as though I were robbing gentle Mrs. Crenshawe of her chief

treasure.

But I made up my mind to keep him if he were as useful as she claimed; and I knew my brother, Judge Roberts, whose house I have kept ever since his wife died of 'the Fever,' in '78, would never give Jupiter a 'cussin'-out.' He leaves to me the management of the servants, who, he declares, treat him as a distinguished visitor; and he says he prefers the privileges of a guest to the responsibilities of a master.

The morning after my little talk with Mrs. Crenshawe, Jupiter, a stalwart figure, more like Hercules than the Father of Olympus, with a carriage whose dignity I have never seen equaled by any white man, sauntered up the lane lined with young walnut trees, which led to our back yard. I was sitting on the steps of the back porch, and I called him to me.

'Where do you live, Jupiter?'

He told me, and when I found that his house was two miles off I had some doubt about his getting to his work in good season every morning.

'What time you want me ter come, Miss Molly?' he asked. 'I kin come whenever you say: five o'clock, fo' o'clock, half-pas' three. Ole folks like me don' require much sleep.'

He looked about forty, but when I

asked his age he said he was 'nigh on to a hund'ed,' and added that he had been married twice and had 'a dozen head o'chillen, not countin' them what wuz dead.'

'All my chillen wuz bawn wid twelve fingers an' twelve toes,' he boasted, 'same as I wuz. The doctor gin'rally cuts 'em off the little extrys, I mean. Some folks says hit's like the monkeys. Is you ever seed a monkey, Miss Molly?'

Discouraging his curiosity about natural history, I proceeded to set forth his duties. He was to chop wood for the fireplaces and for the kitchen stove, to make the garden and gather the vegetables, to feed the chickens, and to draw water from the well and carry it to the house and to the kitchen.

'Is that all? Don' I have ter go ter the post-office? An' don' you want me to holp in the kitchen? Aunt Malviny' the cook'is powerful fat, an' I reckin she'd be proud ter have me beat her biscuits every mawnin'. An' I sho' kin cook. I kin make all kinds er cake Charlotte Polonaise, Charlotte Polonaise,

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Blue Grass, Lady Baltimore, tipsy cake, fruit cake, angel cake, marble cake, Jew cakes-'

I cut short Jupiter's eloquence and directed him to the wood-pile. But his culinary accomplishments were soon put to the test. A week after his introduction into our household poor fat Aunt Malviny succumbed to apoplexy and followed her husband, Uncle Bob, to the grave. Jupiter succeeded her, as my brother said, automatically, and great was his indignation when I spoke of looking for another cook.

'Ef you'll lemme bring my gal, Chasty, here to holp me, Miss Molly,' he proposed, 'you won't need to hire ary other nigger. Chasty's twelve. years old, but she looks fo'teen. I can't make her go ter school, 'cause she's done tuk the notion that every

nigger what learns ter read an' write will die in the penitentiary. You won't have ter pay her no wages, Miss Molly; jus' feed her an' give her some o' yo' ole close. Ef she thought she wuz wuth wages she'd git so uppety that her maw would have to lick her oncet a week, same as she does the boys. Yes, 'm, Sue licks the boys reg'lar; she sho' does her bes' ter raise my chillen right. Some folks thinks she is lazy, 'cause she don't hire out, or take in washin'; but I says she has got her hands full with all that passel o' chillen. When they's little she greases 'em an' she iles 'em an' she cleans out their cisterns, an' when they gits big she licks 'em good an' proper. She's had fifteen chillen an' buried six, an' the younges wuz bawn las' night an' as it's a gal she wants ter name it Molly, for you ma'am.'

I made the proper acknowledgment of this compliment, and asked Jupiter if he had any grandchildren. I wanted to know if they had twelve toes.

'Well, Miss Molly, not exackly. I got a piece o' one.'

'Mercy, Jupiter, what do you mean?' 'Well, you see, Miss Molly, Little Jupiter, that's my oldes' son, he ain't never married his gal yit, an' that's why I say their baby ain't no more'n a piece of a gran'chile. An' he did n't have no twelve fingers an' toes, neither. She ain't much, that gal ain't. Puts powder on her face an' spends Little Jupiter's good money, what he made shootin' craps, buyin' some pizen stuff ter take the kinks outen her hair.'

II

When Jupiter was not talking he was cooking. The garden and the chickens were neglected, and Jupiter's maddening habit of never doing anything at the right time would have been the despair of any but the most easy-going of

housekeepers. So long as I let him go his own way, and shut my eyes to the fact that the dishes were washed only once a day and that the interior of the kitchen, though clean, looked like a junk shop, all went well; but whenever I rashly stood out for more order and system, Jupiter always hinted that his talents were wasted in Tippah, and that there was 'big money' to be made in a rest-er-ant in a neighboring city, where his 'Eyetalyan cooking' would be appreciated. Once I remonstrated when he spoke in this tone; it was too much like a threat, and smacked of impertinence.

'Miss Molly, I did n't sass you; I ain't never sassed you,' he protested, so humbly that I had to forgive him, and let him go on in his happy-golucky way. Left to himself, he regaled us with the best food we ever had, a joy to the eye as well as to the palate, for Jupiter touched nothing that he did not adorn. Like Imogen, he 'cut our roots in characters.'

To do what he was told to do was gall and wormwood to his proud spirit. If by any makeshift or subterfuge he could evade obedience to orders he was happy. He wanted to take the initiative, to assume responsibility, to spring a surprise on us. If I specified a dessert, there was generally some good reason why that particular dessert could not be prepared that day; but if I weakly let him alone, or said carelessly, 'Fix us up something good, Jupiter,' I was never disappointed. "The trivial round, the common task' bored him sadly; works of supererogation were his keenest delight. He boasted that he could do everything,' 'cep'n' wash an' iron, which is women's work.' He left me no peace until I bought a cow, saying that he loved to milk, and that the butter would pay for the cow's food. His wonderful cakes called for more butter than I could afford to buy in those days, for

times were hard, with cotton only five cents a pound.

One day I was sitting on the back porch, churning and wondering how long I could hold out against Jupiter's entreaties that I buy a little pig, which he would fatten on buttermilk and finally convert into sausage, side-meat, and chitterlings, when to my dismay my valuable servant came up to the steps and said he was mighty sorry, but he was afeard he'd have ter quit. I nearly upset the churn.

'Leave us, Jupiter? But why?'

'Well, Miss Molly, a man like me needs ter make a whole lot o' money. I got thirteen head o' chillen, an' while the gals is right smart, the boys ain't wuth the powder an' shot it would take ter kill 'em. You pays me eight dollars a month, an' that would n't be enough for me ter take care o' my family on, an' pay my Lodge dues — you know I is a Knight an' Lady of Honor, Miss Molly withouten I made some more. Now I's been makin' four dollars a month as sexton of St. Faith's, only they don't pay me reg'lar. Howsomever, I kin git erlong on twelve dollars a month. But now I done lost my job as sexton, so I better go to Memphis, an' work in a resterant.'

'But, Jupiter, what happened? Were you discharged?'

'No, ma'am. I done discharged myself. Mr. Simpson, he say I stole. I ain't never stole nothin' in my life, an' Mr. Simpson ain't got no call ter make a fuss over a little bit o' coal. You know I has ter make the fire in the furnace at St. Faith's every Sunday, good an' early, so the church'll be warm for seven o'clock service. Well, they bought some coal las' fall, an' soon after Christmas when it wuz nearly all gone, I went to Mr. Simpson, the senior warden, they calls him, an' tole him he better buy some more, an' he says he thinks there's plenty for another

Sunday or two. Then I goes to him agin, an' he says I mus' speak ter Mr. Yates, the treasurer. An' Mr. Yates he says he's a treasurer withouten any treasure, an' I better see the rector, 'cause he had n't no money to buy no coal. An' the rector, he say he had n't nothin' to do with business matters, but he would see that the subjick wuz laid before the vestry. An', bless my life, the vestry did n't meet for two months, an' by that time the weather wuz warm an' they did n't need no coal nohow. An' then las' Sunday after church I wuz onhitchin' Mr. Simpson's hoss an' he wuz a-gittin' in his buggy ter drive home when he says, "Well, Jupiter, you pestered us all mightily about coal, but we did n't have to buy any more, after all. I thought the supply we laid in in the fall would last until spring, and it did. It's just a question of knowing how to run a furnace economically."

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"Yessir," I says. "But it sho' wuz hard work wheelin' coal in er wheelbarrer all the way from the freight yards, the other side of the deepo, every Sunday for six weeks."-Yes, Miss Molly,'-in answer to my exclamation of horror,-'that's what I had ter do. I axed fur coal, an' I axed fur coal, an' the gemmen jus' kep' on payin' no 'tention ter me, an' what else could I do? It wuz my business ter keep that church hot. Think I'd let everybody freeze to death with carloads o' coal settin' thar doin' nothin' on the railroad tracks? I uster git up at three o'clock of a dark winter mawnin,' an' take your wheelbarrer, Miss Molly,'this with a confiding smile, as though he were glad to let me have a humble share in this creditable performance,'an' go an' help myself ter enough coal ter make the House of the Lord comfortable for his worshipers. Sometimes I had ter make as many as six trips, on a extry col' day. An' Mr.

Simpson calls that stealin'! Stealin' is takin' sompen fur yo' own self, an' I took this here coal fur the Church. I ain't never tooken even one teeny lump fur myself, 'cause I don' burn nothin' but wood, nohow.'

I was not concerned with Jupiter's private interpretation of the Eighth Commandment, but I asked if he would give up the idea of going to Memphis if I could get his job at St. Faith's back for him. His statement that he had 'resigned' I did not credit; Mr. Simpson had doubtless discharged him when he heard of his larceny. For once, I decided to call my brother to my aid. He is a member of the vestry of St. Faith's, and through his influence Jupiter was not only reinstated, but from that time he was paid his four dollars promptly on the first of the month.

III

For a while everything went smoothly. I promised to get a pig the following year if Jupiter would stop teasing me. My idea was to dangle the pig over his head, as a promise of distant reward, hoping in this way to bind him to my service. Absolutely devoted as he was to my interests, he never ceased to pine for Memphis, and the 'big money' he could make there.

Jupiter's daughter- the illiterate Chasty-was soon taught by her father to do everything he was unwilling to do himself. She picked chickens, crawled under the cabins to look for eggs, pulled up weeds, made beds, waited on the table, and, on occasion, as when Jupiter was at church, on a Sunday morning, she could cook a dinner. She was a bright-eyed little thing, always dressed in red calico, with her legs bare, except in winter. At breakfast and supper she scudded back and forth between the house and the kitchen, carrying relays of waffles, bis

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