Explore "The Marrow of Tradition" by Charles W. Chesnutt on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
One morning shortly after the opening of the hospital, while Dr. Miller was making his early rounds, a new patient walked in with a smile on his face and a broken arm hanging limply by his side. Miller recognized in him a black giant by the name of Josh Green, who for many years had worked on the docks for Miller's father -- and simultaneously identified him as the dust-begrimed negro who had stolen a ride to Wellington on the trucks of a passenger car.
"Well, Josh," asked the doctor, as he examined the fracture, "how did you get this? Been fighting again?"