human
when they were carried out. One would ask,
gpt
Who's dead? The reply might be,
human
Only a nigger. One day I was talking in the front with a hall-room man when a stiff was put in the wagon.
gpt
Who's dead? I asked. The hall-man wanted to bet it was a nigger. I bet him a dollar it was a white man, and then asked the hospital nurse, who said it was not a nigger, but an old pal of mine, named Jerry Donovan. I felt sore and would not accept the money I had won. Poor Jerry and I did house-work together for three months, some of which I have told of, and he was a good fellow, and a sure and reliable grafter. And now he had