--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Sloan, W. J. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 3 number: 4 published: 1900-02 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'W. J. Sloan, "Was It Theft?," *Improvement Era* 3, no. 4 (February 1900): 260–262.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera34unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera34unse start_page: 260 end_page: 262 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1900-02) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera34unse publication_year: 1900 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1900, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Was It Theft? WAS IT THEFT? BY W. J. SLOAN. The following incident, related by a friend to the writer while in the South, occurred in one of the western counties of Tennessee, in the fall of 1897.Squire Thompson, one of the largest land holders and most influential citizens of the county, had filed a complaint with the sheriff, that thieves had carried off several of his chickens; and the party named in the complaint was Eph Jackson, an old darkey who lived a quarter of a mile from squire Thompson's. The warrant was given into the hands of a deputy sheriff and on the day appointed for trial, old Eph was duly brought into court. The room was well filled with spectators, not because of any great interest in the case, but rather for the reason that the town loafers and several farmers, who had come to town for their usual weekly trading, had nothing else to do for an hour, and so took advantage of the court's meeting to "kill time." All being ready, and old Eph pleading "not guilty," the taking of testimony was proceeded with. The first witness, placed on the stand, was Squire Thompson, who testified that during the past few weeks he had lost several chickens, but that until Thursday COLLECTION OF ANECDOTES. 261 of the week before, he had been unable to discover who the thief was. That upon going to the coop, on said Thursday morning, he had discovered the loss of a particularly fine bird, of high breeding which he greatly prized; he had at once started a search for the thief. During the night, a rain had fallen, and foot-prints were discovered in the mud, and that said footmarks had been followed through the woods to the cabin of old Eph, who was then a prisoner at the bar. This ended the testimony of Squire Thompson. The judge ordered old Eph to stand up, remarking that he saw no reason why sentence should not, at once, be passed upon him, but, beforeit was passed, he would give him a chance to speak, should he desire to do so. The man who faced the court was black, with a blackness not often seen even among the negroe^of the south; in age, he was perhaps sixty-five; his form was bent, not alone with age, but bent and drawn with rheumatism. His attire, such as there was of it, showed that he not only belonged to the poorer class, but that he was one of the poorest among them. As he looked around the court room, no kindly face appeared, and he knew that among those men, who had either been slave-holders themselves, or their fathers had, there was no friends for him,— the "nigger" who was charged with theft. As he spoke, his voice trembled, not alone with age, but with a tinge of fear, for he knew to whom he spoke, and how their hearts beat for a "worthless nigger." "Yo'r honor, I thank you for gibing dis poor old darkey a chance to speak, I jest want to say a few words, 'bout myself and dat chicken dat Squire Thompson has done lost; I don expect as how it'll clear me judge, 'case I knows yo'r going to send me to de penitentiary, only I'll feel better after I's said it. "After de war was ober, me an' Tobe, dats my old 'oman, we done got married, we wan't rich like de white folks, so we done rent a little patch ob land, wid a little cabin on it. We didn't had much, judge, but den we lubed one anoder, an sometimes I use to tink dat we were just as happy as de white folks was. After a while, babies come along, an denwe were happier dan eber. De one was Eph, named after me, and a likely boy he was to; first den come Eliza, an den der was Joe an' Sam an' den, after a long time, Manda, our baby, she done come, an I thought dat der was 262 IMPROVEMENT ERA. to be nothing but happiness for dis old darkey all de rest ob his days. But de good Lord didn't hab it dat way for me. Eph, he ran away from home, an' dey put him where yo'r going to send his poor old fadder. 'Liza, she done got married, an' de man was mean to her, an 'Liza died wid a broken heart; Joe he done took sick an' died; an Sam he done got drownded ober dar in de riber, an' der poor old mudder's heart was just about broke. An' den der poor old fadder, he done get the rheumatics, couldn't work. An' den we bof look at one anoder an bof look at Manda, our baby, an' we tinks de Lord was good 'cause he lets us keep our baby; an* den we gibs her all ob our lub, 'cause we hadn't any more for to lub. An last week she done took sick, an her mudder watched her an I watched her, but she just kept getting worse. And den de doctor comes an sais as how she was going to die. Last Wednesday night, just after de doctor went away, our baby went to sleep an when she woke up, 'bout an hour after, she done told me dat she'd had a dream, an dat she dreamed dat she was in heben, an dat up dar dey gib her a big bowl ob chicken soup, an' dat she done got better an' come back to lib wid her poor old mammie an' me. An I just thought dat de good Lord had gib her dat dream, an' I says to her. If chicken soup is going to keep you here wid dose who lubs you, you's going to hab chicken soup child.' "An Tobe, she says to me, 'done you go steal, old man, 'cause it ain't right.' I knew dat it wasn't, but I didn't hab no money, judge, an' I, I, couldn't let our baby die, 'cause we bof lubed her. "An so I jus' went out an ober to Squire Thompson's; it took me a long time 'cause my rheumatism hurt me powerful bad; I knew dat de squire had lots ob chickens, an' I didn't tink dat he'd care for one; I didn't know dat de squire lubed dat one dat I took so much, or I wouldn't had took dat one. But I done took it, judge, it's de only ting dat I eber took in my life, an' I took it back home, an I made our baby some brof an' de next morning she was a heap better, an' de good Lord is going to let our baby lib. "An' den de sheriff come, an' took me down here. Poor old Tobe's heart is done breaking 'cause she'll neber see dis poor old darkey again; but she'll look at our baby an' know why I ain't dar. Yes, judge, I done took dat chicken, an' I knows as how yo'r going to