Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 36 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 36: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This is a page of running prose from the penny dreadful *Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil* (page 20). The text presents an extended dialogue in heavily dialectalized speech between what appears to be an overseer named Lum Egger and a character addressed as Master Tom. Egger defends his harsh management of enslaved and poor white laborers on a plantation, boasting of his authority and physical control. The passage then shifts to third-person narration acknowledging the overseer's reputation and Tom's discomfort with Egger's aggressive argument. The content reflects the sensationalist, violent tone typical of Victorian penny dreadfuls, with the dialect and brutal subject matter characteristic of the genre's melodramatic style.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
20 Tom ANDERSON, DareE-DEVIL ter the war— British a-raisin’ hellfire everwhurs — en’ nobody but me ter keep five hunderd niggers en’ er right smart chance er bon’smen down ter the plough-han'les. How much stuff would the whole ub’m raise, ef I’s ter much-’em-up, en’ let ’°em fool ’roun? Not er shirt-tail full! No, sir! En’ the white uns is wuss’n the black uns. One er these hyur emer-grunts will jes’ thow down his hoe en’ foller atter a go’de er buttermilk ez fer ez ary hawg! Tell ye, Master Tom, hit takes er man ter boss thishyer crowd er niggers en’ white niggers. Somebody whut’s able ter wuk ’em, en’ able ter beat ’em! Hol’ ’em down! Out er devilment! That’s hit!— No longer’n yistiddy, did n’ Big Busher jump on one er them yuther white fellers, en’ put-nigh stomp thur life out’n him? Had n’ been fer me, he would er done hit. But Big Busher’s roped down ter thur flo’ in thur tann’ry. Hit tuk Lum Egger ter putt him thar! Oh, he-un’s tre-men-jous— that Welshman is. But thar I’ll keep him tell he gits erligion!’”” Which expression had no reference to things spiritual. Egger gave a Click of his tongue that sounded like the cocking of a pistol. “Yistiddy, ergin, did n’ one er them-thar rank ole Affykins — Jes’ ez pizen ez thur day he wuz dumped off thur slaver— run Mingo out’n thur fiel’ wid er draw’d knife? Knocked him-un down wid er hoe-han’le, merse’f, en’ locked thur ole canny-bull’s knife up in mer chis’. Lord love yo’ soul, hit’s Lum Egger’s business ter boss hands at Oxheart Plantation. You’s jesser boy, Master Tom. Nothin’ ter do but study yer book. No call ter fret yerse f bout lazy niggers en’ snufflin’ bon’smen. But I’m ersponsible fer thur las’ one er thur whole no-’count, agger- vatin’, shiffless, wuffless, rotten devils! Black en’ white! Thur Major knows it. Audley Anderson knows whut Lum Egger’s wuth ter him.” There was justice in the claim. The overseer was a fellow of prodigious energies. That Major Anderson ac- counted him the mainstay of the estate, particularly in these unsettled times, was beyond question. ‘Tom felt uncomfortable. “He’s got the argument on me; and ECOMMICOOOKSa(e© m