Demanding hard labor but always welcomed, hog kill ing is something of a festival to the inhabitants of the Cotton Belt. Hog killing waits on the first "real cold spell" when there is no likelihood of warm weather's caus ing the meat to spoil. Stunning, sticking, scalding, scrap ing, disemboweling, cutting up into joints, and salting down the fatted swine from the pen are operations likely to be done with neatness and dispatch by the farmer, assisted by his grown son or a neighbor. On the farm woman devolves the labor of rendering fat into lard, strips of fat and lean into sausage, and feet and head into head cheese or "souse." Mrs. Julia Peterkin in Black April has truthfully and artistically portrayed the im portant role that hog killing plays in the life of the plantation Negro, but it is no less significant to the white family. Existing on a monotonous diet throughout the growing season, with little or no consumption of beef or mutton, the grower's family is "almost starved" for fresh meat. A butchering is a neighborhood event, and pres ents of the delicacies are distributed. First to be eaten are the brains and liver. Liver hash and liver pudding are special delicacies. It is commonly thought that only Negroes eat the "lights" (lungs) and "chitlings," but there are many white cropper and tenant families who regard them as palatable. Backbones, boiled, and spare ribs, fried, follow. The crisp remains of fat after the lard is extracted are often baked in corn meal to make crack ling bread, esteemed on almost every southern table. Hams, shoulders, and side meat are smoked and stored away to furnish meat throughout the winter.
It is likely that by this time the rural schools have opened for the winter term. If so, the attendance of chil dren, both black and white, is likely to be sporadic until cotton picking is finished. School laws allow children to be excused for emergencies on the farm. Compulsory edu cation is confronted by a fact, not a theory, and the school bows to the cotton system. In many places schools do not open until after the picking season. And until living standards and economic status of the cotton farmer are raised this seems to be a realistic adjustment.
After several more pickings the crop is finished, all the cotton has been baled, hauled down main street, and sold. If grown east of Texas, the crop has required from 100 to 140 hours of man labor and from 45 to 60 hours of mule labor per acre. The amount of labor has varied according to the soil, the yield, the climate, and current cultural practices. It is the time to settle up. With ware
house receipts in hand, the "general merchant and cotton buyer" goes over the books with his client, the cotton grower. The bills are paid, and if the season has been good the grower pockets the surplus in his overalls. The landlord and his tenants hold their accounting of so much furnished, so much rent, so many acres of corn, and so many bales of cotton. The merchant settles with his whole sale jobber and pays off his note at the bank. The land lord is also in position for the first time to visit his banker.
Already business has begun to grow brisk in the Cot ton Belt towns. The drummers have made their rounds, scented good cotton crops, and received large-sized Christ mas orders. The farmer's family now drives to town every Saturday, the "old woman" sits hunched up in the board seat with her lord and master, the kids and "younguns" are likely to be piled on the floor on quilts. The whole family is likely to be fitted for shoes ; goods for new dresses for the wife and the "kids" are in order. The merchants do a rushing business and attempt to re coup in three months for the stagnation of a whole year. Cheese and crackers, salmon and sardines, ice cream cones, and bananas help to make Saturdays a treat for all. Late in the afternoon the family starts home, "all tired out" from walking the streets, but with more than their usual supply of flour, coffee, sugar, with possibly some "fancy groceries" included. While the parents were gossiping, the children spent their time looking into store windows. And they are not forgotten. "I got to buy some Christmas for the kids ; they're kinder expecting it," is heard in the South regardless of the price of cotton. A doll, a knife, some fireworks, apples, oranges, nuts, and candy are the legitimate right of every child, and the cotton cropper's children will find them in their stockings Christmas morning.
The cotton grower's vacation has begun. Croppers on the Black Waxy of Texas, Negroes on the plantation in the Mississippi Delta, the small farm owners in the Georgia uplands have finished the routine of the seasons and added a billion dollar crop to the world's supplies. For a time they stop and talk about "having a good Christmas." After respite comes again the question to move or not to move. And soon again it is time to cut stalks and plow land. Another billion dollar crop is under way.