MARY F. CHILDS

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Mrs. Mary Fairfax Childs, maker of dialect verse, was born at Lexington, Kentucky, May 25, 1846. She is the daughter of the Rev. Edward Fairfax Berkley (1813-1897), who was rector of Christ Church, Lexington, for nineteen years. Dr. Berkley baptized Henry Clay, in 1847, and buried him five years later. Miss Berkley was a pupil at the Misses Jackson's Seminary for young ladies until her thirteenth year, or, in 1858, when her father accepted a call to St. Louis, in which city he labored for the following forty years. In St. Louis, she continued her studies at a private school for girls, when she left prior to her graduation in order to devote herself more especially to music, Latin, and French. Miss Berkley was married, in 1870, to William Ward Childs, a returned Confederate soldier; and in 1884 they removed to Clinton, Missouri, where they resided for seven years, when business called them to New York, their home until Mr. Child's death in 1911. Mrs. Childs's life in New York was a very busy one. She was prominent in several social and literary groups; and for many years she was corresponding secretary of the New York Chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy. Her first poem that attracted wide attention was entitled De Namin' ob de Twins, which originally appeared in The Century Magazine for December, 1903. It was the second in a group of Eleven Negro Songs, written by Joel Chandler Harris, Grace MacGowan Cooke, Paul Lawrence Dunbar, and one or two other poets. That Mrs. Childs's masterpiece was the flower of the flock admits of little question: it is one of the best negro dialect poems yet written by a Southern woman. Exactly a year later the same periodical published her A Christmas Warning, with the well-known refrain, Roos' high, chicken—roos' high. These, with many others, were brought together in an attractive volume, entitled De Namin' ob de Twins, and Other Sketches from the Cotton Land (New York, 1908). This collection is highly esteemed by that rather small company of lovers of dialect verse. Mrs. Childs's poem, The Boys Who Wore the Gray, has been printed, and is well-known throughout the South. She has recently completed another collection of sketches, called Absolute Monarchy, which will appear in 1913. At the present time Mrs. Childs is historian of the Society of Kentucky Women of New York, although she is residing at Kirkwood, Missouri, near St. Louis.

Bibliography. Letters from Mrs. Childs to the present writer; The Century Magazine (January, 1906).

DE NAMIN' OB DE TWINS[32]

[From De Namin' ob de Twins, and Other Sketches from the Cotton Land (New York, 1908)]

What I gwine name mah Ceely's twins?
I dunno, honey, yit,
But I is jes er-waitin' fer de fines' I kin git,
De names is purty nigh run out,
So many niggahs heah,
I 'clar' dey's t'ick as cotton-bolls in pickin'-time o' yeah.
But 't ain' no use to 'pose to me
Ole secondary names,
Lak 'Lizabeth an' Josephine, or Caesah, Torm, an' James,
'Ca'se dese heah twinses ob mah gal's
Is sech a diff'ent kind,
Dey's 'titled to do grandes' names dat ary one kin find.
Fer sho dese little shiny brats
Is got de fus'-cut look,
So mammy wants fine city names, lak you gits out a book;
I ax Marse Rob, an' he done say
Some 'rageous stuff lak dis:
He'd call de bruddah Be'lzebub, de sistah Genesis;
Or Alphy an' Omegy—de
Beginnin' an' de en'—
But den, ob co'se no man kin tell, what mo' de Lawd 'll sen';
Fer de pappy ob dese orphans—
You heah me?—I'll be boun',
While dey's er-crawlin' on de flo', he'll be er-lookin' roun';
'Ca'se I done seen dem Judas teahs
He drap at Ceely's grabe,
A-peepin' 'hind his han'kercher, at ole Tim's yaller Gabe;
A-mekin' out to moan an' groan,
Lak he was gwine 'o bus'—
Lawd! honey, dem dat howls de mos,' gits ober it de fus'.
Annynias an' Saphiry,
Sis Tab done say to me,
But he'p me, Lawd! what do she 'spec' dese chillum gwine o' be?
'Sides, dem names 's got er cur'us soun'—
You says I's hard to please?
Well, so 'ould any granny be, wid sech a pa'r as dese.
Ole Pahson Bob he 'low dat I
Will suttinly be sinnin',
Onless I gibs 'em names dat starts 'em right in de beginnin';
"Iwilla" fer de gal, he say,
F'om de tex' "I will a-rise,"
An' dat 'ould show she's startin' up, todes glory in de skies;
An' fer dis man chile, Aberham—
De fardah ob' em all—
Or else Belshazzah, who done writ dat writin' on de wall;
But Pahson Bob—axcuse me, Lawd!—
Hed bettah sabe his bref
To preach de gospel, an' jes keep his "visin" to hiss'f;
Per nary pusson, white nor black,
Ain' gib no p'int to me
'Bout namin' dese heah Chris'mus gifs, asleep on granny's knee;
(Now heshaby—don' squirm an' twis',
Be still you varmints, do!
You anin' gwine hab no niggah names to tote aroun' wide you!)
'Ca'se on de question ob dese names
I sho is hed mah mine
Perzactly an' percidedly done med up all de time;
Fer mah po' Ceely Ann—yas, Lawd,
Jes nigh afo' she died,
She name' dis gal, "Neu-ral-gy," her boy twin, "Hom-i-cide."

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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