July, 1937
T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
250
Mammy Helps to Stop a Train By EVELYN McFARLANE McCLUSKY illustrations by Ransom D. Marvin
T here were many passengers on the street car, but none of them failed to note the entrance of the young man who wore as many pock marks as there are craters on the moon. He drew attention to himself by emitting a jittery little tune as he tap-stepped his way to a seat near the end of the car. When he had ridden two blocks, his friend entered and strode to his side. “Hello, Pockie! How’s everything? All your little blonde babies okay?” “Cornin’ right along, son! Goin’ to take out a sleepin’ beauty tonight on a big date . . . She’s a little walking, talking, waltzing wax dollie!” Across the aisle a cultured gentleman groaned in decided disapproval. Next to him a negro mammy ventured conversation with the young matron beside her, but the remarks were a soliloquy. “Lawsey, do he lob hisself! At his rate, he’s gonna hab hisself mo’ marks on his soul than on his face, and I’ll bet he don’t know how to get it clean to meet the Lord o’ glory!” “Maybe you’d better tell him.” “Who? Me? He’d pay no ’tention to dis here nigger! That big foot of hisen would show me where to get off at! No’um! I’m from de Souf. I knows my place.” “But suppose God wants you to talk to the young man?” “Not me! I ain’t got no mouf for words wif dat youn’ man!” “That’s what Moses said. But God told him He would be with his mouth. If God sends a person, He is always the One to give the words. If you think this would help you, here is a little leaflet that is written for high-school young people and might appeal to him.” “Does it talk Bible talk? Does it talk about de blood o’ de Lamb? I believes ‘de way ob de cross leads home.’ ” The young matron explained what the leaflet said. Then she talked with the other
After her swift and abrupt exit, the two young men sat silent. One of them fingered a leaflet, then slid it into his pocket. The man across the aisle turned to. the young matron. “That woman is more noble than I,” he admitted. “More fearless. More obedient to the heavenly vision. God bless her.” “We always rejoice when some one does the work of witnessing,” she replied. “But how strangely we miss privileges for our selves !” * * * The lanky lad filled the narrow bed. His bandaged head moved from side to side. His eyes were covered, but he frequently opened his lips to murmur, “Mammy!” Dr. Branch was feeling his pulse as the new nurse came up. “Doctor, do I under stand that you know the boy’s father?” she asked. “Yes, slightly. I know they lived in Can ada, then Milwaukee. Been in Portland two years. The boy’s mother died when he was six. He ran away to the Islands. Had smallpox there. He’s always been a great trial to his dad . . . Hold his head quiet, will you?” “Mammy! Mammy!” moaned the boy. “Did you wire his father?” the nurse in quired. “Yes. Asked whether he’d ever had a Mammy. Never. We’ll have to get some Southerner to talk to him to calm him.” “Mammy! Don’t leave the car!” called the pock-faced youth. The nurse smoothed his cheek. “It may not be a negro mammy that he wants. It may be a girl—his ‘mamma,’ as the fellows call them. Or maybe her name is ‘Mamie.’ Perhaps she was in the car when the crash came.” “Likely as not this wild fellow went out with dozens of girls of the ‘best families.’ .1 understand he always bragged about his way with women.” The head nurse came to the door.
woman of the beauties of the Lord Jesus Christ who is the only One to bear marks in heaven, and how wonderful it is that be cause of our faith in the blood of the Lamb, we are to be presented flawless and faultless before the presence of His glory. The black face beamed with approval. “You’d better speak to the young man, if the Lord has laid it upon your heart to do that, Mammy. I’ll be praying for you.” The old woman wagged her head slowly, and groaned, “Lawsey me, I shore do feel pressed! But I ain’t never disobeyed no mistress yet, and I ain’t disobeyed God yet, either, Little Miss, ifen I knows it, so . . . ” She rose suddenly and stood hanging to a strap near the astonished young men. “ ’Lo, Mister Pockie!” She squared her shoulders and spoke fast, “I’se done heered yo’ air yo’ haid and show off yo’ soul, son, and I’se consarned about it. Maybe nobody done tole you about how God lobs yo’, mor’ ’an de wax babies yo’ speaks of. Son, I ’m goin’ to, act like your mammy and say my say. Listen to me. All them sireens is just so many, whistles on de train goin’ to hell. I’m go’na pray de good Lord to wreck yo’ train ’fore it gits dar and git yo’ on His train! Here’s sompin’ to read about, to git yo’ straight and let yo’ know how to git yo’ ticket routed. Yo’ got to go by de Cross, son. There ain’t no other way. Jesus done said, ‘I’m the door . . . I am the way, the truth, and the life.’ ” She turned to address the matron whom she had adopted as mistress pro tem. “Honey, what was that yo’ was phrasin’ to me about pocks? Oh, I ’members . . . it was about how Christ can present him with out no pocks ifen he will believe dat Christ took all his sins on Him. And Mister Pockie, it sure is de truf, son, and I hopes —Lawsey! Punch dat bell, chile! I’m past my place where I’m goin’ at! But I done what God tole me, and I ken walk back wif no load on my heart! I hopes I see you in heben, Mister Pockie!”
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