MOCKERS AND SCOLDEBS 133 



she talked she rolled her eyes and waved her hands a 

 good deal, and her words had a soft comfortable sound 

 like molasses pouring out of a big stone jug. 



"Does I know de mockin'bird, I reck'n so — 'bout de 

 fust t'ing I did know, 'cept how ter suck sugar-cane. 

 Sugar-cane am good eatin' long in de 'arly fall, but 

 de Mocker ain't doin' much singin' dese yer times, least 

 not 'less he's in a cage in a good sunshiny place. He 

 am a kind ob a peart gray bird, darker in some places, 

 lighter in oders, and clean as a parson. But come long 

 spring and time for droppin' de cottin seed, de Mocker 

 he know mighty well what's a-doin'. 'Long in March 

 he comes inter de bushes and orange scrub round de 

 field a-makin' a fuss and tellin' folks to git along to 

 work, or dere won't be no cottin, and he keep it straight 

 up all de day long till cottin's out o' bloom. All de day 

 long kind o' chatterin' and hurryin' de niggers up when 

 dere a-droppin' de seed in de line, and scoldin' and 

 hurryin' all de day long, when dere a-hoein' down de 

 weeds. Den when it come night, de she-bird keep 

 close outer de nest, and de he-bird go in de scrub or de 

 redwoods or de gin'gos, nigh de clarin', maybe right on 

 de cabin roof, and he say to hisself — ' Now dem nig- 

 gers done dere work, TU gib 'em a tune ter courage 'em 

 like.' Den he jes' let hisself outer his singin'. Some- 

 time he sing brave and bold, like he say big words like 

 missis and de folks dat lib in de big house. Den he 

 whisper soft an' low widout any words, jes' like a 

 mammy was a-singin' to her baby. Den agin he sing 

 kin' o' long and soft and wheedlesome, like Sambo when 

 he come a-courtin' o' me. Sho, now ! come to t'ink o' 

 Sambo, he didn't nebber like Mockers, a'ter one time 



