You see dis ain't no fine home,
but it's mine and it's paid for. Some day when I can afford it, I'se
go'n' try to finish de inside o' dis house. I got one room ceiled, and
maybe some day I can finish it. I don't believe in taking on no bigger
load dan I can git up de hill wid. I'se seed folks go th'ough de
machinery o' extravagance, and it'll eat you up sho'. I'se skeerd o'
debts as I is o' a rattlesnake, but debts in de right sense makes you
industrious. And I'se learned dis much--that a line fence and a dog
creates more fuss dan anything in de world."

[HW: DIST. 4 Ex. Slave.] 310 Louise McKinney 100142

[HW: "Uncle Jake"]

"A Vessel Ob De Lawd".

Uncle Jake was a character up in the hills of north Georgia. I can look
back and see him now as he trudged through the snow in the early morning
from his little log cabin down in the field. His new home-made shoes
were being worn for the first time and with every swing of the milk
pail, he limped.

"Whose on de Lawd's side? I's on de Lawd's side!" His thin, cracked
voice rang out clearly, and every other word received special emphasis
as he tried to step lightly with his left foot.

My nose was flattened against the cold, frosty window pane as I watched
the old darky go about his morning chores. Just the afternoon before I
had slipped away to his and Aunt Callie's cabin to talk for a little
while and found him melting tallow in an old bucket over a sputtering
log fire. As he rubbed the smelly drippings over the heavy shoes he kept
glancing toward the sky at the soft gray clouds, then he would say,
"Look at dat smoke up at de big house. It am meeting and mingling and
habin' communion wid dem clouds oberhead. We's goin' hab wedder in de
mornin', and here you is Cissie Ann wid dat 'plexion o' yo's as soft as
a fresh born lam'. Dis wind aint for sweet chile's like you for it
soun's like de pipe what de dibbil play as it whistles roun' dis chimney
corner".

With all of my six years' wide experience, I always learned something new
from Uncle Jake and somehow I enjoyed the musty smell of the dark cabin,
the strings of red pepper draped in festoons, twists of "chawing baccer"
and bunches of onions which hung from the rafters and the soft goose
feather bed which Uncle Jake said warded off dampness and kept him from
having "the misery in his stiff ol' jints". In spite of his protests as
to me remaining longer, I settled myself on a three-legged stool and
with