Identifier: bluegrassregiono5460alle (find matches)
Title: The blue-grass region of Kentucky : and other Kentucky articles
Year: 1892 (1890s)
Authors: Allen, James Lane, 1849-1925
Subjects:
Publisher: New York : Harper & Brothers
Contributing Library: Lincoln Financial Foundation Collection
Digitizing Sponsor: The Institute of Museum and Library Services through an Indiana State Library LSTA Grant

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ge of the fugitive-slave lawand the distresses that followed it drew this from me. The typical boy on a Kentucky farm was tenderlyassociated from infancy with the negroes of thehousehold and the fields. His old black Mammybecame almost his first mother, and was but slowlycrowded out of his conscience and his heart by thegrowing image of the true one. She had perhapsnursed him at her bosom when he was not longenough to stretch across it, sung over his cradle atnoon and at midnight, taken him out upon the vel-vety grass beneath the shade of the elm-trees towatch his first manly resolution of standing alone inthe world and walking the vast distance of someinches. Often, in boyish years, when flying fromthe house with a loud appeal from the incompre-hensible code of Anglo-Saxon punishment for smallmisdemeanors, he had run to those black arms andcried himself to sleep in the lap of African sym-pathy. As he grew older, alas ! his first love grewfaithless ; and while Mammy was good enough in
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THE MAMMY. UNCLE TOM AT HOME 61 her way and sphere, his wandering affections settledhumbly at the feet of another great functionary ofthe household—the cook in the kitchen. To himher keys were as the keys to the kingdom of heaven,for his immortal soul was his immortal appetite.When he stood by the biscuit bench while she,pausing amid the varied industries that went intothe preparation of an old-time Kentucky supper,made him marvellous geese of dough, with farina-ceous feathers and genuine coffee-grains for eyes,there was to him no other artist in the world whopossessed the secret of so commingling the usefulwith the beautiful. The little half-naked imps, too, playing in the dirtlike glossy blackbirds taking a bath of dust, werehis sweetest, because perhaps his forbidden, compan-ions. With them he went clandestinely to the fatalduck-pond in the stable lot, to learn the art of swim-ming on a walnut rail. With them he raced up anddown the lane on blooded alder-stalk horses, after-wards

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