Others, again, go to a store and ask to be shewn some shingles;[20] they take two or three as a sample, and if approved of, they are to return for so many bundles. About ten yards further, they meet with another store, and here they procure another sample; and so they go on, until, in time, enough is obtained to patch their houses. In the same manner, they get samples of tea, peas, rice, coffee, &c., which saves them having the very disagreeable necessity of paying for what they use.
Some of the country negroes fall upon another plan of levying contributions upon the public. They make love to a pig or a fowl, or some other article belonging to their neighbours, but which they will not steal upon any account; accordingly they entice or carry them to a convenient distance, and leave them there. After a little time has elapsed, they return by the same road, and as soon as they perceive the articles, whatever they may be, (although left there by themselves,) they exclaim, “Eh! eh! me lucky true to-day, me find dis fowl; well, me want it ’nough, me sure!” In this manner, they endeavour to stifle the “still small voice within us,” while, should they be accused of this, they immediately cry out, “Well, me neber know if one somebody find one someting he call tief for it!”
I should have enlarged upon the thefts of our domestic servants, but really, upon thinking over it, the task appears too arduous. I might write and write and never finish,—it would, in truth, be “a story without an end;” for this system of stealing is so indelibly implanted in some of their minds, that no measures you can try will break them of it. You may use the greatest leniency towards them, argue with them in the kindest manner, point out to them the sinfulness of their ways, it makes no impression upon them—they only wait until you retire, or are off your guard, and the same theft will be repeated. Nor are coercive measures of more avail; you may take them before a magistrate, who will commit them to the house of correction; when the period of their punishment is expired, and they are again at liberty, they return to their illegal habits with redoubled avidity, as if to make up for lost time. I do not say this is the case with all; a few weeks spent in confinement has often the effect of restoring to society a reformed member. To thieving we must add lying, and in this accomplishment many of them are so well skilled, that Ferdinand Mendez Pinto must have hid his diminished head. It is really wonderful to hear to what extent they will carry their lying; for example, if you miss anything and inquire after it, they will deny peremptorily they ever saw it, when, at the same time, they know full well where it is, but do not want the trouble of fetching it. They will rather tell a story at any time than be forced to use the least exertion. While I am writing, I hear complaints of this. A servant of ours has just drawn a lucifer match, and knowing how careless all negroes are of throwing about fire, the question has been asked her, “Where did you put the match after using it?”—“Upon the table,” was the reply.—“Are you sure of that, and that it was extinguished before you left it?”—“Yes, sir.”—“Susan, go and look; I cannot believe her, I am sorry to say.” Susan returns with the box of lucifers; the match, _still burning_, has been replaced in the box, and the lid put on, to the imminent hazard of setting the house on fire, had it not been fortunately discovered. My attention being drawn by this colloquy, I ask, “Grace, how can you use yourself to tell such stories?—are you not a Sunday-school scholar?”—“I forgot, ma’am.” They never own they do tell a story; they always forget, or else they boldly stick to their first assertion, let the contrary be as plain as it may.