In Pleasant Valley, at the head of Fausley Creek, there were several quarters, in one of which lived Nancy Young, not a stone’s throw from the quarter of Aunt Cassey. Nancy helped in milking the cows, churning, making butter, and at harvest time helped the cooks, but Mammy Nancy, as the darkies called her, was virtually her own mistress, and was never required to do hard work; in short, she was the plantation doctress, and it was seldom that any little darkies came into the world without Mammy Nancy’s assisting their advent. The negroes thought her inspired, and when they had ailments Nancy made them a decoction that went to the spot; in brief, she was well acquainted with the use of herbs. She had faithfully nursed Mrs. Isaac Atkinson, a Quakeress and neighbor, who imparted to her many of her secret remedies; some of these would have enlightened a modern doctor. For example, she had a remedy for what she called “cowbuncle,” which was almost a specific for carbuncle. Nancy especially doted on making catnip tea, and when she held in her faithful arms a cantankerous baby, and crooned and gave it catnip tea, “De chile wan’ pestered no mo.’”

She was motherly, sympathetic and a born nurse, and not only attended the servants, but nursed the ladies of the neighborhood. She was extremely pious, and if she had not been, I do not know what would have become of Little Billy; she was his wife.

Nancy was full of determination and spirit, and when Billy came in early in the morning from ’possum hunting without a ’possum, she always suspected he had been to Major Rudd’s store, and took the strong hand with him that he took with his steers, and would not let him have his banjo and pipe.

The earliest watermelons grew in her garden, and she had spring chicken weeks before her neighbors. Billy was not allowed even to go into the garden, for she was afraid he might disturb her herb patch. It did not disturb Billy, however, who preferred his corncob pipe and banjo. Nancy was very fond of music, and once she said to me: “Billy ain’ got no erligion, but he do play de banjo same ez uh cherrypin” [cherubim].

Some gypsies struck their tents on the main road about a mile from Nancy’s home, and one night a man rode up, inquired for Mammy Nancy, and said his wife was sick. She was soon with the gypsy, who was ailing some two weeks, and when Nancy returned she was not only a doctress, but a firm believer in witchcraft, and could tell your fortune by looking at your hand.

Nancy was making some bone-set and snake-root tea—Billy had the shakes, so she said—when Billy broke the silence by asking, “Nancy, what’s de matter wid dem hens?”

“Billy, you know uh mink skerd de hens week ’fo’ lars’, an’ ’sturbed deah mem’ry fuh layin’. I ain’ got but eight eggs ter-day an’ none yistiddy, so dese all we got fuh suppah.”

“Is you got de spider hot? Well, den, cut orf eight slices ub bacon an’ den we will hab uh slice ub bacon fuh each egg. Heah’s some kinlin’ wood I picked up in Mars Pinckney’s woodpile, an’ by de time de bacon is fryin’ good—dat is, de grease bilin’—speck me back wid fo’ catfish I kotch in de net lars’ nite, which will keep us fum gittin’ horngry befo’ suppah time. I’m gwine ter de rebate ter-night.”

“Billy, ez I ondastan’ hit da ain’ much use gwine. Uncle Reubin, Pawson Demby an’ Damon Danridge is on de side futto ’sterminate de witches, an’ dat fusty niggah, Jerry Jones, is fuh lettin’ de witches lib. Now I don’ kuh any mo’ fuh him dan I do fuh uh shirk! Tell me, lars’ nite at Mage Rudd’s sto’ he spressify hissef dat he wuz so well ’quainted wid de witches in Haylan’ Branch dat dey al’ays bow ter him when dey meet him; an’ he say he of’n hab composation wid ’em, an’ dat dey hab de gre’tes’ condidence in him; an’ Mage Rudd say he has heahd de witches mo’n once praisin’ him. He’s got uh bran’ new fiddle an’ bo’ dat cos’ $9, which he made fum coon hides in one monf. De fac’ is, strange ez hit may seem, dey won’ let nobody hunt in Haylan’ Branch ceppin Jerry. Mo’n dat, dey tell me he said he wan’ feared ub de sponsibility ub rebatin’ by hissef; dat de witches sass him sometimes, but fuh de mos’ part dey kine and lubly.”

“Now, Nancy, Jerry nebba spressify dat de witches lubly.”

“Yas he did! Mo’n dat, Ceaser an’ Jerry Butler heah him, an’ dey so pestered ’boutin dem witches ’stead ub walkin’ fum deah house thoo Pleasant Walley ter wha dey keep deah boat on de ribba, not mo’n uh quarter ub uh mile fum deah house, dey walks two miles ’roun’ de walley, dey so feared dem witches ride an’ whup ’em. Hit wudn’ s’prise me ef’n de debbil wuz ter transplant Jerry same ez de Lawd transplanted Eunuch. Why, he’s ebin ’cused de Petracks ub lubbin’ an’ keepin’ comp’ny wid witches. Hit’s scan’lus! Damon Danridge say dat he heah Jerry Jones say dat Samuel de fus’ use ter let witches roos’ all erroun’ his house, an’ dat hit’s true dat Moses fell out wid uh witch an’ say, ^[10]”Thou shall not suffah uh witch ter lib,” an’ he mout uh kilt ’em all, but jes’ den Mars Noahy an’ his cullud son Ham driv up wid uh bag an’ say, “Saul, I’m bleeged ter hab uh par ub witches fuh meh boat,” an’ Jerry ’low dat de sponsibility resses wid Mars Noahy, de father ub dat lubly boy Ham.

“Stephen, what is de rebate ezactly? I dunno what you gwine fuh! I hab uh gre’t mine ter meck you stay home an’ hab nuffin ter do wid witches. How kin you go ter de rebate when da is three hens hatchin’, an’ minks imperdent? Da is only one thing I want you ter go fuh, an’ I bin layin’ out futto tell you.

“Yistiddy mawnin’ I wuz crossin’ de road gwine ter de thicket wha dat speckled hen name “Yaller Legs” is hatchin’—in de pile ub jack-oak brush close ter de spring—when, lo an’ beholst! dat free niggah Jim Brooks cum erlong. He wuz dribin’ in his kyart uh po’ leetle harf-starbed steer, an’ I wuz jes’ thinkin’ ter mehsef, Is dat kyart movin’ er no, so slow wuz he gwine. De truf is de leetle steer wan’ much bigger dan one ub Mars Pinckney’s wethers. Tho’ I nebba been interjuced ter dat Jim Brooks (me dat waits on de qual’ty), jes’ ez I cross de road dat free niggah say ter his steer, ‘Step up, Pete, step up; an’ look out, stranger, dat you don’ git run ober!’ Now, I cornsider dat de wus’ sort ub impotence, an’ I wan’ you ter tell him so ef’n he is at Zion ter-night. I’m not gwine ter stan’ hit. Ef’n he had uh par ub fars-trottin’ steers like Uncle Simon’s, hit wud be bad ’nuff, but ter be ’sulted by dat sort ub miration is scan’lus.”

“Well, Nancy, stay home an’ let me go ter de rebate; dem chickens’ hatchin’ is pow’ful waluble. I gib Mage Rudd five levys fuh thutty ub dem eggs, an’ he say dat breed ub chickens cum fum Henrico County, Firginny, an’ once lay uh gole egg; so ub cose dey wuf watchin’ day an’ nite. Mo’n dat, I am one ub de arbiters, an’ I won’ let dat imperdent free niggah Jim Brooks dat ’sulted you cum in Zion, ef’n hit breck up de rebate. I holp ter meck de brick fuh dat chuch, an’ I sut’ny got some sponsibility in de matter.”

“Well, Billy, when you spressify yo’sef dat way, ez de moon is so young, an’ hit so dark, I will stay home.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a gentle knock at the door, which Nancy opened and exclaimed, “Bless meh soul an’ body, an’ body an’ soul, ef’n hit ain’ young Mistis! Why, honey, howdy; an’ wha you bin?”

“Mammy Nancy, one of Father’s ewes died in February and left a dear little lamb. I took it to the house, fed it from a bottle, and it became like Mary’s little lamb—everywhere that I went the lamb was sure to go. Early this morning I started out to get the first spring flowers. After I had walked about a mile I heard Snow Flake bleating, and looking back saw her gambolling after me. When I passed the fold a hundred or more of beautiful leaping lambs romped around her, and soon my sweet Snow Flake seemed to forget me and skipped and played with the other lambs. I felt that I would be a wolf to take that lamb from the flock; and yet, Mammy Nancy, I love that little lamb so much. And, oh! how I have watched and tended it! Finally I walked to your spring, sat down and cried, and then I felt thirsty; and when I looked for the gourd that hangs on the nail in the pine tree it was gone. So I have come for the gourd.”

“Dat’s Billy’s carlesomeness; dar’s de gourd, honey, in de watah bucket. Miss Marg’retta, you looks ez sweet ez dem flowers dat’s reposin’ on yo’ bres’. I bin heahin’ erbout you. Dey tell me de bows jes’ cum in drobes futto see you. De fac’ is, you is mo’ beau’ful an’ beau’ful ev’y day. Dey tells me dat de young marsters cum fum Balt’mo’ ter see you; how-some-eber, I heah dat Mars John Charles Dickinson, fum Queens Anne’s County, is yo’ favorite. He! He! He! Dat’s what Miss Osman say. Got uh new ring on yo’ fingah, too; but Ole Mars ain’ gwine ter let you merry anybody ceppin uh Pres’dent er sompin’ like dat. Chile, lemmy tell yo’ fortune?”

“All right, Mammy Nancy.”

“Do you wan’ uh long fortune er uh short fortune?”

“Well, a short one to-day and to-morrow I will come and get the long one.”

“Mistis, I will teck yo’ lef’ han’ ter-day. How does you keep yo’ han’s so white an’ dimpled? Dar’s many uh one ub dem young men dat fox hunts wid Ole Mars dat wud gib deah hyarts ter hole dis han’; deed dey wud. One, two, three, fo’ five, six, sebin, eight, nine, ten, ’lebin, twelbe, thutteen. Yo’ gwine ter merry uh king an’ hab thutteen chillun. Billy, go out an’ see how dem hens is hatchin’.”

When Billy was sent out Margaretta thought it was going to be a long fortune, so she switched the conversation off and said, “Has Billy got religion? We haven’t heard of his being at Major Rudd’s store of late, fiddling and banjo playing.”

Nancy said, “Billy goes ter Mr. Dawson’s sto’ now, uh mile fudder up de rode, futto sell his eggs, mus’rat hides an’ coon hides. You see Mage Rudd fell out wid Billy, an’ ’twuz all uh accident. It wuz dis way: Fus’ place Mage Rudd sol’ Billy some eggs dat cos’ 2 cents uh piece. He say dat de breed ub chickens dat dey cum fum once laid uh gole egg. Well, Billy’s eggs all hatched ducks. Billy wuz furisome, an’ wen’ right ’way ter Mage Rudd’s sto’, but he got sich uh way ub twissin’ his tongue dat he twiss out ub it by sayin’ dat somebody swap eggs wid Billy. Cose den I molested him boutin dem duck eggs, an’ he say, ‘Nancy, I hab got uh ve’y fine new lantern fuh sale, an’ I wan’ ter sell you one.’ Sez I, ‘Why; I’s got uh good lantern.’ ‘Well,’ sez he, ‘Billy’s so black you wan’ uh fus’-class lantern ter stick outin de winder in de mawnin’ ter see ef’n day is broke!’ Now, qual’ty people wud nebba talk dat way, an’ dat’s what made Billy skeer dem frogs ub Mage Rudd’s.”

“Well, what did Billy do?”

“Well, Mage Rudd had uh empty mullasses barrel in front ub de sto’, an’ de flies wuz swa’min’ erroun’ hit same ez uh swa’m ub bees, an’ Mage Rudd’s toad-frogs wuz almos’ ez thick ez de flies, an’ dey wuz ketchin’ de flies same ez de debbil ketches sinnahs.

“Well, ’twuz erboutin sundown when Billy cum erlong an’ seed dem flies an’ frogs. So he got uh piece ub ole rope, hide hissef ’hine de barrel, an’ den he twiss dat rope thoo de grass ezactly like uh snake. De frogs dat wan’ full ub flies an’ cud jump went all ober dat sto’, in de butter, mullasses, sugar, brakin’ eggs, lamp chimneys, nockin’ down bottles, an’ wussa still, dey jumped ’roun’ Mage Rudd’s ole maiden sistuh’s feets an’ ankles, tell she tuck up huh dress like she gwine wadin’. Mars Pinckney say she mussa tho’t de frogs wuz garter snakes. But de mos’ ’stressin’ part ub all wuz de frogs dat wuz full ub flies an’ cudn’ hop; dey los’ deah mines—bellerd an’ wep’, wep’ an’ bellered wuss dan uh pon’ full ub horngry calves. Uh big frog pon’ wuz nuffin ter hit.

“Mage Rudd ’low he didn’ keer fuh de flies, er de things dat wuz ’stroyed in de sto’, but he did keer fuh dem frogs; dat he wuz uh widderer, wid no chillun, an’ summer ebenin’s dem frogs ’mused him; an’ lars, but not leas’, dat he wuz keepin’ dat rope fuh Billy, an’ when he kotch him he wud meck him jump leap frog.”

Billy fully intended going to the debate, but on his way he met a lot of coon hunters, forgot the debate and returned to his quarter about daylight, when he explained matters to Mammy Nancy. She said, “You shan’t hab yo’ pipe fuh uh monf.” Whereupon Billy, to melt Mammy Nancy, tuned his banjo, twanged it and sang:

When Billy had finished singing Nancy said, “I reckon you kin hab yo’ pipe, Billy, ef’n you promise ter jine de chuch.” And Billy promised “ter jine.”