Read Ebook: Taking the Census: A Farce by Guptill Elizabeth F Elizabeth Frances

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Ebook has 97 lines and 8448 words, and 2 pages

Taking the Census

A Farce

Taking the Census

Characters

Mr. Cole, the Census Taker. Mrs. Almira Johnson, a "Cullud Lady."

Alexander Johnson, her Young Son.

SCENE

Mrs. Johnson's home. Mrs. Johnson winding yarn which Alexander holds for her.

MRS. J. Now yo' jes' stop yo' wigglin', Alexandah, caze yo' got to hole dis yahn till yo' mammy git it all winded up in a big ball fo' to knit yo' wintah stockin's wiv. Keep it straight, now. No, don't straitch is so! Jes' hole it easy.

MRS. J. Dat don' make a bit o' diffunce. Yo' hole dat ar yahn good. Does yo' heah?

MAMMY. No, yo' caint! Yo' jes' want to git out an' play baseball wiv dem no-count white chilluns. I don' want yo' should 'sociate wiv sech trash. Sit up, does yo' heah?

MRS. J. Alexandah Xerxes Napoleon Washin'ton Johnsing, does yo' see dat switch?

MAMMY. Yo' jes keep on a-holdin' it good, an' don' yo' fuss no moah. Mah goodness, who dat?

MR. C. Good afternoon, Madam.

MRS. J. Good aftahnoon, sah. Will yo' walk in?

MR. C. Thank you, I will. I have here the census report blanks and I am taking the census.

MRS. J. We-all hasn't no moah senses dan we needs, ouah selves, sah, an' we don' p'etend dat we has.

MR. C. I mean I am taking the vital statistics, Madam.

MRS. J. Vital stickses! Yo' caint steal no wood here, an' yo' caint puffo'm no suhgicla-opahrations, needah. My vitals is inside o' me, an' dare dey am a-gwine to merain. Does yo' heah? We-all don' need no suhgeons, 'tall. No, yo' needn't stayah at dat boy. Yo' caint speriment wiv his insides.

MR. C. But I am not a surgeon, Madam. I am the census man.

MRS. J. Yo' suttinly am a senseless man, but don' try any capers heah, fo' mah eyes is on yo', an' de carbin' knife am mighty handy. Alexandah, yo' drap dat yahn, and go find a p'licemans. Tell him we-all has got a luniac heah. Hump yo'se'f, now, whilst I watch him.

MR. C. Come back here, boy. It's all right.

MRS. J. Go 'long dare, yo' heah me? Now yo' sit down an' keep still, an' dar shan't nuffin huht yo'. But don' yo' come a 'step nighah.

MR. C. I assure you, Madam, you are mistaken. I only want to ask a few questions, and write down your answers.

MRS. J. Dat's all right. Might as well 'muse yo'se'f dat way as any odah. What yo' tink yo' wan' to know?

MR. C. What is your husband's name?

MRS. J. Gawge Washin'ton Pompey Caesar Johnsing.

MR. C. Born?

MRS. J. Co'se he war bohn! Yo' don' t'ink he growed on a melon vine, does yer?

MR. C. I mean, where and when was he born?

MRS. J. In his daddy's cabin, in watermillion time.

MR. C. Where was his daddy's cabin?

MRS. J. In de quahtahs, on ole Massa Johnsing's place, down in Souf Ca'liny.

MR. C. Before the war?

MRS. J. Shuah. De yeah dey took Fort Sumter. I disremembah de numbah.

MR. C. '61. What is his occupation?

MRS. J. Why I isn't quite shuah, not to be sartin, sah. I t'ink he's a bandmastah, but he may be jus' a coalheavah.

MR. C. But they are not at all alike. Where does he work?

MRS. J. Dat's jes' it, sah. Ef I knowed dat, I'd know what he done be doin'.

MR. C. But doesn't he ever say?

MRS. J. He nebah has, sah, not one bressed wohd, dough I'm a savin' up to go to a mid-dle-um some day, and den I know.

MR. C. A middle-um?

MRS. J. Jes' so. One ob dese yer hoodoo womans what conjer an call up de ha'nts to speak to dare folkses.

MR. C. Oh, a medium! Then your husband is dead?

MRS. J. He am dat.

MR. C. How long?

MRS. J. 'Bout fibe foot eight, sah.

MR. C. I mean, how long has he been dead?

MRS. J. Las' wintah, sah, jes' arter Chris'mus.

MRS. J. He's drefful 'quis'tive, but if de Pres'dint send him, we-all mus' put up wiv him, I spec'.

MR. C. What is your name?

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