My First Case

A Young Detective’s Story

by Mrs. W. F. Carrington

“Yᴇꜱ, Lord,” said Simon, had he been a Catholic, would have crossed himself, but being Simon, he used that not indifferent substitute, a shake of the head—“Yes, Lord, it’s er cuyus time. I say ter Hagar dat ar bery day, says I, ‘Hagar, sum’in’ gwine ter happen, ’en do dat she ’spress herse’f es makin’ light uv it, I kind er never felt easy in my mine. ’T’us dat same ebenin’, when we win’ wus er cuttin’ so soft en ’ceitful like, just er moanin’ now en den, like es if ’t ’us in mis’ry. Somehow like, I tell ye, I done felt all dat week like things wus gwine wrong. Look like eb’ry day sence Mars Frank lef’ here I couldn’ git settled in my mine. ’Peared like he done took de luck wid him. En fo’ de Lord he did,” Simon concluded, pausing, and shaking his head sadly, as his hands dropped hopelessly between his tremulous knees. “’T’us a bad day,” he presently resumed, “when ole massa let dat ole heah’s tail leave dis pl’ntation.”  

“What about the hare’s tail?” I asked, inquiringly.  

“Luck, massa, luck,” old Simon replied, quickly. “It’s be’n in our fambly eber sence ole massa’s father was a little chap. Old Uncle Isr’el he cotch de heah, en blessed de tail fur luck, en giv’it ter de old gin’l, en it done hung in de same spot whar he put it, ober de big room chimn’y, eber sence, ’tel when Mars Frank wus here lahst time, he ’lowed ter his gran’father he wanted it, en de ole man gim it ter ’im, cause he ’lowed he done had his day, en hard luck couldn’ hut him; but I seem em fotch ar kine uv er sigh when he tole me ter take it down, en when he seed de ole place empty, what it done hung so long, de tears come in his eyes. ‘Peared like it kine er put ’im in mine uv all de res’ what ’ad gone, missis en de chillun. I tried ter ’suade ’im ’… Read More