Deadly Pedigree

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From The Diary of Ivanhoe Balzar:

Mulatto Barber of Natchitoches

December 21st 1873. Jacob, my half-brother, passed today. I was with him at his deathbed. He held my hand. Maybe he did not recognise me. Maybe he did. The Lord Almitey forgive his sinning soul! Euphrozine, my half-sister, would not let my Mary come in the big house, making her keep to the kitchen with the servants. The plantation house look very bad indeed, and the fields gone to seed mostly. I don’t even beleve Jacob saw to planting anything this year at all, cept for some vegetables that critters got. Euphrozine married a man from up East a few years back, and spend most of the time over in New York. But lately I hear tell she and her husband doing some cofee trading down in New Orleans. His family can’t deal in slaves no more, like they did before the War. But I think Euphrozine is not as bad as Jacob; nobody has to be bad, unless they want to be. She says to me, after we bury’d poor Jacob–I hate this cankrous, rotting, barren place, Ivanhoe! I don’t care what happens to it. It makes me so melonkolie.–Well, I wager we won’t be seeing much of her round here nomore. I’ll miss her. She never hated me, tho, least not as much as that devil of a man Jacob. These past few years been almost enuf to make me deny my dedly pedigre. I’m ready for some Peace. The influenca broke out again, and is spreding. I hear some folks died over near Isle Brevelle. Froze hard last nite and killed three old cows to tuf to eat even. Loaned Logan Younce $6, for two plows, at small intrist because he is my friend. Tom Oliviette has proposed to me a part of a barge that he want to run. I don’t know if I am willing or not. Cut ten heads today, which is about rite for the time. Folks got to go to Church. My prentice cut just four, tho. Erasmus is coming up to three now. All the world is afore that child. I won’t let the Past stand in his way. He can chuse his own Futur the Good Lord tended him to have.*





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