“Dere’s one thing dat I can’t understan’,” said William Gorrell, the doorkeeper at the Southern Manufacturers’ Club. “Yes, sir, an’ it’s puzzled me er whole heap.”

“What is that, William?” I inquired.

“How come you don’t hear ’bout no nigger havin’ dese new fangle diseases—dis here bell-aker an’ ’penderseetis.”

“Bell-aker?” I asked.

“Yes, sir, dis misery dat comes fum eatin’ corn. How come no nigger don’t have it? Dere ain’t nobudy whut eats more corn bread an’ mush dan er sho’ ’nuff nigger. Up home—dat’s in Greensboro—de niggers say:

“‘Down de country de nigger say he loves mush,

“‘Up de country de nigger say for God’s sake hush!’

“Haf’ de niggers in dis country’s been raised on mush, an’ corn dodger, an’ I ain’t never seed one die wid bell-aker.”

“You mean pellagra?”

“I don’t know whut you call it.”

“I dismiss the pellagra, for I don’t know anything about it, but there’s nothing strange about the negro not having appendicitis, William,” said I. “You know what the vermiform appendix is, don’t you?”

“No, sir, ’ceptin’ dat it’s somefin’ dat you gut an’ don’t need, an’ it can’t stay in yer when it gets hot.”

“You know about Darwin’s theory of evolution?”

“No, sir, to tell you de truf, I ain’t seed Mr. Dargin in almos’ er year.”

“I don’t mean Jim Dargin, the traveling man, but Dr. Darwin, the great scientist, a learned man of the last century who contended that we all came from monkeys. You have heard of that theory?”

“Yes, sir, I’se heard it said dat we come fum monkeys, but I ain’t believin’ everything dat I hears.”

William cocked one eye up a little and prepared to listen. He did not catch on to the word “evolution,” but when I said that Mr. Darwin was the man that believed that a man came from a monkey he understood. He had heard of that claim.

“You have heard that, then, William?” I continued.

“Whut, boss, dat er man come fum er monkey?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, sir, but I ain’t put no faith in it.”

“Well, I do, William; I believe that Darwin was right, and I have come to this belief since I parted with my appendix.”

“Don’t tell me, boss!”

“It is this way about your appendix,” I declared, “the man who is fartherest removed from the monkey has the smallest appendix and is most liable to have the appendicitis, and the closest, has the largest. As one becomes more civilized his appendix decreases. The doctors, on making the incision in my abdomen, found that I had a very small appendix, so small, in fact, that it became stopped and inflamed.

“I should say that if your friend, Rastus Johnsing, over there, were opened it would be discovered that his vermiform appendix is as large as my arm and as long as a rolling pin. Your appendix, or that of any ordinary, dark-hued negro, is about the size of a common guano horn.”

“Humph! My Gawd! How come?”

“How come? Because your race is not more than 200 years from the monkey. I would not be surprised if your great-great grandfather did not run wild in the forests of Africa, living off of bugs and other insects. You know, as I sit back there at my desk every day and watch you climb over this grill and brush off the dust, I feel sorry for you. You like to climb—so does anyone not far from the monkey. In the course of 2,000 years the negro will begin to have appendicitis, long after the white people lose theirs.”

“Hold on, boss! How long did you say it would be?”

“About 2,000 years, I should say.”

“Humph! I’ll be gone den. What you say makes me feel good. I ain’t haf’ as much interested in de race as I is in William Gorrell, an’ his pickininnies. Ef mer ’pendix is as big as er guano sack it ain’t nobudy’s bizness but mine.”

END