“It do not come as early in Harlem as it does down South,” said Simple, “but it comes. And there ain’t no white folks living can keep spring from coming. It comes to Harlem the same as it does downtown, too. Nobody can keep spring out of Harlem. I stuck my head out the window this morning and spring kissed me bang in the face. Sunshine patted me all over the head. Some little old birds was flying and playing on the garbage cans down in the alley, and one of them flew up to the Third Floor Rear and looked at me and cheeped, ‘Good morning!’

“I said, ‘Bird, howdy-do!’

“Just then I heard my next-door roomer come out of the bathroom so I had to pull my head in from that window and rush to get to the toilet to wash my face before somebody else got there because I did not want to be late to work this morning since today is payday. New York is just rush, rush, rush! But, oh, brother, if I were down home.”

“I know—you would just fish and dream and dream and fish.”

“And dream and fish and fish and dream!” said Simple. “If spring was to last forever, as sure as my name is Jess, I would just fish and dream.”

Last Whipping

Last Whipping

WHEN I went by his house one Sunday morning to pick up my Kodak that he had borrowed, Simple was standing in the middle of the floor in his shirttail imitating a minister winding up his Sunday morning sermon, gestures and all.

He intoned, “‘Well, I looked and I saw a great beast! And that great beast had its jaws open ready to clamp down on my mortal soul. But I knowed if it was to clamp, ah, my soul would escape and go to glory. Amen! So I was not afraid. My body was afraid, a-a-ah, but my soul was not afraid. My soul said whatsoever you may do to my behind, a-a-ah, beast, you cannot harm my soul. Amen! No, Christians! That beast cannot tear your immortal soul. That devil in the form of a crocodile, the form of a alligator with a leather hide that slippeth and slideth through the bayous swamp—that alligator cannot tear your soul!’”

“You really give a good imitation of a preacher,” I said. “But come on and get dressed and let’s go, since you say you left my Kodak at Joyce’s. I didn’t stop by here to hear you preach.”

“I am saying that to say this,” said Simple, “because that is the place in the sermon where my old Aunt Lucy jumped up shouting and leapt clean across the pulpit rail and started to preaching herself, right along with the minister.