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The Souls of Black Folk | W. E. B. DuBois | |
Of the Coming of John |
Page 2 of 10 |
And they that stood behind, that morning in Altamaha, and watched the train as it noisily bore playmate and brother and son away to the world, had thereafter one ever-recurring word,--"When John comes." Then what parties were to be, and what speakings in the churches; what new furniture in the front room,--perhaps even a new front room; and there would be a new schoolhouse, with John as teacher; and then perhaps a big wedding; all this and more--when John comes. But the white people shook their heads. At first he was coming at Christmas-time,--but the vacation proved too short; and then, the next summer,--but times were hard and schooling costly, and so, instead, he worked in Johnstown. And so it drifted to the next summer, and the next,--till playmates scattered, and mother grew gray, and sister went up to the Judge's kitchen to work. And still the legend lingered,--"When John comes." Up at the Judge's they rather liked this refrain; for they too had a John--a fair-haired, smooth-faced boy, who had played many a long summer's day to its close with his darker namesake. "Yes, sir! John is at Princeton, sir," said the broad-shouldered gray-haired Judge every morning as he marched down to the post-office. "Showing the Yankees what a Southern gentleman can do," he added; and strode home again with his letters and papers. Up at the great pillared house they lingered long over the Princeton letter,-- the Judge and his frail wife, his sister and growing daughters. "It'll make a man of him," said the Judge, "college is the place." And then he asked the shy little waitress, "Well, Jennie, how's your John?" and added reflectively, "Too bad, too bad your mother sent him off--it will spoil him." And the waitress wondered. |
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The Souls of Black Folk W. E. B. DuBois |
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