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diff --git a/20438.txt b/20438.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6caa32e --- /dev/null +++ b/20438.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4566 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Moriah's Mourning and Other Half-Hour +Sketches, by Ruth McEnery Stuart + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Moriah's Mourning and Other Half-Hour Sketches + +Author: Ruth McEnery Stuart + +Release Date: January 24, 2007 [EBook #20438] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORIAH'S MOURNING AND OTHER *** + + + + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + [Illustration: "'THANK THE LORD! _NOW I CAN SEE TO LOOK FOR 'EM!_'"] + + + +MORIAH'S MOURNING + +and Other Half-Hour Sketches + + + +By RUTH MCENERY STUART + +_Author of "In Simpkinsville" +"A Golden Wedding" etc._ + + + +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS + + + +LONDON AND NEW YORK +HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS +1898 + + +Copyright, 1898, by Harper & Brothers. +_All rights reserved._ + +_Printed in New York, U.S.A._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + +MORIAH'S MOURNING 3 + +AN OPTICAL DILEMMA 19 + +THE SECOND MRS. SLIMM 37 + +APOLLO BELVEDERE. A CHRISTMAS EPISODE OF THE PLANTATION 53 + +NEAREST OF KIN (ON THE PLANTATION) 71 + +THE DEACON'S MEDICINE 93 + +TWO GENTLEMEN OF LEISURE 113 + +THE REV. JORDAN WHITE'S THREE GLANCES 131 + +LADY. A MONOLOGUE OF THE COW-PEN 157 + +A PULPIT ORATOR 165 + +AN EASTER SYMBOL. A MONOLOGUE OF THE PLANTATION 175 + +CHRISTMAS AT THE TRIMBLES' 181 + +A MINOR CHORD 211 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"'THANK THE LORD! _NOW I CAN SEE TO LOOK FOR +'EM!_'" _Frontispiece_ + +"A SURPRISED AND SMILING MAN WAS SITTING AT HER +POLISHED KITCHEN TABLE" _Facing p._ 8 + +"'I'M AC-CHILLY MOST AFEERD _TO_ SEE +YOU CONVERTED'" " 40 + +"'I PROMISED HIM I'D PUT ON MO'NIN' FOR HER +SOON AS I MARRIED INTO DE FAMILY'" " 74 + +"SAYS SHE, 'OPEN YORE MOUTH!' AN' OF CO'SE +I OPENED IT" " 98 + +"I DES LETS 'EM LOOSE P'OMISKYUS, TELL +EV'YBODY SEE BLUE LIGHTNIN'" " 134 + +"SALVATION'S KYAR IS MOVIN'!" " 148 + +"'WON'T YER, PLEASE, SIR, SPELL DAT WORD +OUT FUR ME SLOW?'" " 168 + + + + +MORIAH'S MOURNING + + +Moriah was a widow of a month, and when she announced her intention of +marrying again, the plantation held its breath. Then it roared with +laughter. + +Not because of the short period of her mourning was the news so +incredible. But by a most exceptional mourning Moriah had put herself +upon record as the most inconsolable of widows. + +So prompt a readjustment of life under similar conditions was by no +means unprecedented in colored circles. + +The rules governing the wearing of the mourning garb are by no means +stringent in plantation communities, and the widow who for reasons of +economy or convenience sees fit to wear out her colored garments during +her working hours is not held to account for so doing if she appear at +all public functions clad in such weeds as she may find available. It is +not even needful, indeed, that her supreme effort should attain any +definite standard. Anybody can collect a few black things, and there is +often an added pathos in the very incongruity of some of the mourning +toilettes that pass up the aisles of the colored churches. + +Was not the soul of artlessness expressed in the first mourning of a +certain young widow, for instance, who sewed upon her blue gown all the +black trimming she could collect, declaring that she "would 'a' dyed de +frock th'oo an' th'oo 'cep'n' it would 'a' swunked it up too much"? And +perhaps her sympathetic companions were quite as _naive_ as she, for, +as they aided her in these first hasty stitches, they poured upon her +wounded spirit the healing oil of full and sympathetic approval, as the +following remarks will testify. + +"Dat frock mo'ns all right, now de black bows is on it." + +"You kin put any colored frock in mo'nin' 'cep'n' a red one. Sew black +on red, an' it laughs in yo' face." + +"I'm a-sewin' de black fringe on de josey, Sis Jones, 'case fringe hit +mo'ns a heap mo'nfuler 'n ribbon do." + +Needless to say, a license so full and free as this found fine +expression in a field of flowering weeds quite rare and beautiful to +see. + +Moriah had proven herself in many ways an exceptional person even before +the occasion of her bereavement, and in this, contrary to all precedent, +she had rashly cast her every garment into the dye-pot, sparing not even +so much as her underwear. + +Moriah was herself as black as a total eclipse, tall, angular, and +imposing, and as she strode down the road, clad in the sombre vestments +of sorrow, she was so noble an expression of her own idea that as a +simple embodiment of dignified surrender to grief she commanded respect. + +The plantation folk were profoundly impressed, for it had soon become +known that her black garb was not merely a thing of the surface. + +"Moriah sho' does mo'n for Numa. She mo'ns f'om de skin out." Such was +popular comment, although it is said that one practical sister, to whom +this "inward mo'nin'" had little meaning, ventured so far as to protest +against it. + +"Sis Moriah," she said, timidly, as she sat waiting while Moriah +dressed for church--"Sis Moriah, look ter me like you'd be 'feerd dem +black shimmies 'd draw out some sort o' tetter on yo' skin," to which +bit of friendly warning Moriah had responded, with a groan, and in a +voice that was almost sepulchral in its awful solemnity, "_When I mo'n +I mo'n!_" + +Perhaps an idea of the unusual presence of this great black woman may be +conveyed by the fact that when she said, as she was wont to do in +speaking of her own name, "I'm named Moriah--after a Bible mountain," +there seemed a sort of fitness in the name and in the juxtaposition +neither the sacred eminence or the woman suffered a loss of dignity. + +And this woman it was who, after eight years of respectable wifehood and +but four weeks of mourning her lost mate, calmly announced that she was +to be married again. + +The man of her choice--I use the expression advisedly--was a neighbor +whom she had always known, a widower whose bereavement was of three +months' longer standing than her own. + +The courtship must have been brief and to the point, for it was +positively known that he and his _fiancee_ had met but three times +in the interval when the banns were published. + +He had been engaged to whitewash the kitchen in which she had pursued +her vocation as cook for the writer's family. + +The whitewashing was done in a single morning, but a second coating was +found necessary, and it is said by one of her fellow-servants, who +professes to have overheard the remark, that while Pete was putting the +finishing-touches to the bit of chimney back of her stove, Moriah, who +stooped at the oven door beside him, basting a roast turkey, lifted up +her stately head and said, archly, breaking her mourning record for the +first time by a gleaming display of ivory and coral as she spoke, + +"Who'd 'a' thought you'd come into my kitchen to do yo' _secon' +co'tin'_, Pete?" + +At which, so says our informant, the whitewash brush fell from the +delighted artisan's hands, and in a shorter time than is consumed in the +telling, a surprised and smiling man was sitting at her polished kitchen +table chatting cosily with his mourning hostess, while she served him +with giblets and gravy and rice and potatoes "an' coffee b'iled +expressly." + + [Illustration: "A SURPRISED AND SMILING MAN WAS SITTING AT HER + POLISHED KITCHEN TABLE"] + +It was discovered that the kitchen walls needed a third coating. This +took an entire day, "because," so said Pete, "de third coat, hit takes +mo' time to soak in." + +And then came the announcement. Moriah herself, apparently in nowise +embarrassed by its burden, bore the news to us on the following morning. +There was no visible change of front in her bearing as she presented +herself--no abatement of her mourning. + +"Mis' Gladys," she said, simply, "I come ter give you notice dat I gwine +take fo' days off, startin' nex' Sunday." + +"I hope you are not in any new trouble, Moriah?" I said, +sympathetically. + +"Well, I don' know ef I is or not. Me an' Pete Pointdexter, we done +talked it over, an' we come ter de conclusion ter marry." + +I turned and looked at the woman--at her black garments, her still +serious expression. Surely my hearing was playing me false. But catching +my unspoken protest, she had already begun to explain. + +"Dey ain't no onrespec' ter de dead, Mis' Gladys, in _marryin'_," +she began. "De onrespec' is in de _carryin's on_ folks does _when_ +dey marry. Pete an' me, we 'low ter have eve'ything quiet an' +solemncholy--an' pay all due respects--right an' left. Of co'se Pete's +chillen stands up fur dey mammy, an' dey don't take no stock in him +ma'yin' ag'in. But Ca'line she been dead _long enough_--mos' six +mont's--countin' fo' weeks ter de mont'. An' as fur me, I done 'ranged +ter have eve'ything did ter show respec's ter Numa." (Numa was her +deceased husband.) "De organ-player he gwine march us in chu'ch by de +same march he played fur Numa's fun'al, an' look like dat in itse'f is +enough ter show de world dat I ain't forgot Numa. An', tell de trufe, +Mis' Gladys, ef Numa was ter rise up f'om his grave, I'd sen' Pete +a-flyin' so fast you could sen' eggs to market on his coat tail. + +"You see, de trouble is I done had my eye on Pete's chillen ever sence +dey mammy died, an' ef dey ever was a set o' onery, low-down, sassy, +no-'count little niggers dat need takin' in hand by a able-bodied +step-mammy, dey a-waitin' fur me right yonder in Pete's cabin. My hand +has des nachelly itched to take aholt o' dat crowd many a day--an' ever +sence I buried Numa of co'se I see de way was open. An' des as soon +as I felt like I could bring myse'f to it, I--well--Dey warn't no +use losin' time, an' so I _tol' you, missy, dat de kitchen need' +white-washin'_." + +"And so you sent for him--and proposed to him, did you?" + +"P'opose to who, Mis' Gladys? I'd see Pete in de sinkin' swamp 'fo' I'd +p'opose to him!" + +"Then how did you manage it, pray?" + +"G'way, Mis' Gladys! Any wide-awake widder 'oman dat kin get a widder +man whar he can't he'p but see her move round at her work for two days +hand-runnin', an' can't mesmerize him so's he'll ax her to marry +him--Um--hm! I'd ondertake ter do dat, even ef I warn't no cook; but wid +seasonin's an' flavors to he'p me--Law, chile! dey warn't no yearthly +'scape fur dem chillen! + +"I would 'a' waited," she added, presently--"I would 'a' waited a +reas'nable time, 'cep'n dat Pete started gwine ter chu'ch, an' you know +yo'se'f, missy, when a well-favored widder man go ter seek consolation +f'om de pulpit, he's might' ap' ter find it in de congergation." + +As I sat listening to her quiet exposition of her scheme, it seemed +monstrous. + +"And so, Moriah," I spoke now with a ring of real severity in my +voice--"and so you are going to marry a man that you confess you don't +care for, just for the sake of getting control of his children? I +wouldn't have believed it of you." + +"Well--partly, missy." She smiled a little now for the first time. +"Partly on dat account, an' partly on his'n. Pete's wife Ca'line, she +was a good 'oman, but she was mighty puny an' peevish; an' besides dat, +she was one o' deze heah naggers, an' Pete is allus had a purty hard +pull, an' I lay out ter give him a better chance. Eve'y bit o' +whitewashin' he'd git ter do 'roun' town, Ca'line she'd swaller it in +medicine. But she was a good 'oman, Ca'line was. Heap o' deze heah +naggers is good 'omans! Co'se I don't say I _loves_ Pete, but I looks +ter come roun' ter 'im in time. Ef I didn't, I wouldn't have him." + +"And how about his loving you?" + +"Oh, Mis' Gladys, you is so searching!" She chuckled. "Co'se he _say_ +he loves me already better'n he love Ca'line, but of co'se a widder man +he feels obleeged ter talk dat-a-way. An' ef he didn't have the manners +ter say it, I wouldn't have him, to save his life; but _ef he meant it, +I'd despise him_. After Ca'line lovin' de groun' he tread fur nine long +yeahs, he ain't got no right ter love _no_ 'oman better'n he love her +des 'caze he's a-projec'in' ter git married to 'er. But of co'se, Mis' +Gladys, I ca'culates ter outstrip Ca'line in co'se o' time. Ef I +couldn't do dat--an' she in 'er grave--_an' me a cook_--I wouldn't +count myse'f much. An' den, time I outstrips her an' git him over, +heart _an'_ soul, I'll know it by de signs." + +"Why will you know it more than you know it now? He can but swear it to +you." + +"Oh no, missy. When de rock bottom of a man's heart warms to a 'oman, he +eases off f'om swearin' 'bout it. Deze heah men wha' swear so much, dey +swear des as much ter convince deyselves as dey does ter ketch a 'oman's +ear. No, missy. Time I got him heart _an'_ soul, I looks for him to +commence to th'ow up Ca'line's ways ter me. Heap of 'em does dat des ter +ease dey own consciences an' pacify a dead 'oman's ghost. Dat's de way a +man nachelly do. But he won't faze me, so long as I holds de fort! An' +fur de chillen, co'se quick as I gits 'em broke in I'll see dat dey +won't miss Ca'line none. Dat little teether, I done tol' Pete ter fetch +her over ter me right away. Time I doctors her wid proper teas, an' +washes her in good warm pot-liquor, I'll make a fus'-class baby out'n +her." + +Moriah had always been a good woman, and as she stood before me, laying +bare the scheme that, no matter what the conditions, had in it the +smallest selfish consideration, I felt my heart warm to her again, and I +could not but feel that the little whitewasher--a kindly, hard-pressed +family man of slight account--would do well to lay his brood upon her +ample bosom. + +Of course _she_ was marrying _him_, and her acquisition of family would +inevitably become pensioners upon our bounty; but this is not a great +matter in a land where the so-called "cultivation" of the soil is +mainly a question of pruning and selection, and clothes grow upon the +commonest bush. + +As she turned to go, I even offered her my best wishes, and when I +laughingly asked her if I might help her with her wedding-dress, she +turned and looked at me. + +"Bless yo' heart, Mis' Gladys," she exclaimed, "_I ain't gwine out o' +mo'nin'_! I gwine marry Pete in des what I got on my back. I'll _marry_ +him, an' I'll take dem little no-'counts o' his'n, an' I'll make +_folks_ out'n 'em 'fo' I gits th'ough wid 'em, ef Gord spares me; but +he nee'n't ter lay out ter come in 'twix' me an' my full year o' +mo'nin' fur Numa. When I walks inter dat chu'ch, 'cep'n' fur de owange +wreaf, which of co'se in a Christian ma'iage I'm boun' ter wear, folks +'ll be a heap mo' 'minded o' Numa 'n dey will o' de bridegroom. An' dem +chillen o' his'n, which ain't nuver is had no proper mo'nin' fur dey +mammy--no mo' 'n what color Gord give 'em in dey skins--I gwine put 'em +in special secon' mo'nin', 'cordin' to de time dey ought ter been +wearin' it; an' when we walks up de island o' de chu'ch, dey got ter +foller, two by two, keepin' time ter de fun'al march. You come ter de +weddin', Mis' Gladys, an' I lay you'll 'low dat I done fixed it so dat, +while I'm a-lookin' out fur de livin', de dead ain't gwine feel +slighted, right nur left." + +She was starting away again, and once more, while I wished her joy, I +bade her be careful to make no mistake. A note of sympathy in my voice +must have touched the woman, for she turned, and coming quite up to me, +laid her hand upon my lap. + +"Missy," she said, "I don't believe I gwine make no mistake. You know I +allus did love chillen, an' I ain't nuver is had none o' my own, an' +dis heah seemed like my chance. An' I been surveyin' de lan'scape o'er +tryin' ter think about eve'ything I can do _ter start right_. I'm +a-startin' wid dem chillen, puttin' 'em in mo'nin' fur Ca'line. Den, +fur Pete, I gwine ring de changes on Ca'line's goodness tell he ax me, +_for Gord sake, ter stop_, so, in years ter come, he won't have nothin' +ter th'ow up ter me. An' you know de reason I done tooken fo' days off, +missy? I gwine on a weddin'-trip down ter Pine Bluff, an' I wants time +ter pick out a few little weddin'-presents to fetch home ter Pete." + +"Pete!" I cried. "Pete is going with you, of course?" + +"Pete gwine wid me? Who sesso? No, ma'am! Why, missy, how would it look +fur me ter go a-skylarkin' roun' de country wid Pete--_an' me in +mo'nin'_? + +"No, indeedy! I gwine leave Pete home ter take keer dem chillen, an' I +done set him a good job o' whitewashin' to do while I'm gone, too. De +principles' weddin'-present I gwine fetch Pete is a fiddle. Po' Pete +been wantin' a good fiddle all his life, an' he 'ain't nuver is had one. +But, of co'se, I don't 'low ter let him play on it tell de full year of +mo'nin' is out." + + + + +AN OPTICAL DILEMMA + + +Elder Bradley had lost his spectacles, and he was in despair. He was +nearly blind without them, and there was no one at home to hunt them for +him. His wife had gone out visiting for the afternoon; and he had just +seen Dinah, the cook, stride gleefully out the front gate at the end of +the lane, arrayed in all her "s'ciety uniform," on her way to a church +funeral. She would not be home until dark. + +It was growing late in the afternoon, and the elder had to make out his +report to be read at the meeting of the session this evening. It _had +to be done_. + +He could not, from where he sat, distinguish the pink lion's head from +the purple rose-buds on the handsome new American Brussels rug that his +wife had bought him as a Christmas gift--to lay under her +sewing-machine--although he could put out his boot and touch it. How +could he expect to find anything so small as a pair of spectacles? + +The elder was a very old man, and for years his focal point had been +moving off gradually, until now his chief pleasures of sight were to be +found out-of-doors, where the distant views came gratefully to meet him. + +He could more easily distinguish the dark glass insulators from the +little sparrows that sometimes came to visit them upon the telegraph +pole a quarter of a mile away than he could discriminate between the +beans and the pie that sometimes lay together on his dinner plate. + +Indeed, when his glasses stayed lost over mealtimes, as they had +occasionally done, he had, after vainly struggling to locate the various +viands upon his plate and suffering repeated palatal disappointments, +generally ended by stirring them all together, with the declaration that +he would at least get one certain taste, and abide by it. + +This would seem to show him to have been an essentially amiable man, +even though he was occasionally mastered by such outbursts of impatience +as this; for, be it said to his credit, he always left a clean plate. + +The truth is, Elder Bradley was an earnest, good man, and he had tried +all his life, in a modest, undeclared way, to be a Christian +philosopher. And he would try it now. He had been, for an hour after his +mishap, walking more rapidly than was his habit up and down the entire +length of the hall that divided the house into two distinct sides, and +his head had hung low upon his bosom. He had been pondering. Or perhaps +he had been praying. His dilemma was by no means a thing to be taken +lightly. + +Suddenly realizing, however, that he had squandered the greater part of +a valuable afternoon in useless repining, he now lifted his head and +glanced about him. + +"I'm a-goin' to find them blame spec's--eyes or no eyes!" He spoke with +a steady voice that had in it the ring of the invincible spirit that +dares failure. And now, having resolved and spoken, he turned and +entered the dining-room--and sat down. It was here that he remembered +having last used the glasses. He would sit here and think. + +It was a rather small room, which would have been an advantage in +ordinary circumstances. But to the elder its dimensions were an +insurmountable difficulty. How can one compass a forty-rod focus within +the limits of a twelve by sixteen foot room? + +But if his eyes could not help him, his hands must. He had taken as few +steps as possible in going about the room, lest he should tread upon the +glasses unawares; and now, stepping gingerly, and sometimes merely +pushing his feet along, he approached his writing-table and sat down +before it. Then he began to feel. It was a tedious experiment and a +hazardous one, and after a few moments of nervous and fruitless groping, +he sought relief in expression. + +"That's right! turn over!" he exclaimed. "I s'pose you're the red ink! +Now if I could jest capsize the mucilage-bottle an' my bag o' snuff, an' +stir in that Seidlitz-powder I laid out here to take, it would be purty +cheerful for them fiddle-de-dees an' furbelows thet's layin' everywhere. +I hope they'll ketch it ef anything does! They's nothin' I feel so much +like doin' ez takin' a spoon to the whole business!" + +The elder was a popular father, grandfather, uncle, husband, and +Bible-class teacher to a band of devoted women of needle-work and +hand-painting proclivities, and his writing-table was a favorite target +for their patiently wrought love-missiles. + +One of the strongest evidences of the old man's kindliness of nature was +that it was only when he was wrought up to the point of desperation, as +now, that he spoke his mind about the gewgaws which his soul despised. + +There are very few good old elders in the Presbyterian Church who care +to have pink bows tied on their penholders, or to be reminded at every +turn that they are hand-painted and daisy-decked "Dear Grandfathers." It +is rather inconvenient to have to dodge a daisy or a motto every time +one wants to dry a letter on his blotting-pad, and the hand-painted +paper-cutter was never meant to cut anything. + +"Yes," the good old man repeated, "ef I knowed I could stir in every +blame thing thet's got a ribbon bow or a bo'quet on it, I'd take a spoon +to this table now--an' stir the whole business up--an' start fresh!" + +Still, as his hand tipped a bottle presently, he caught it and set it +cautiously back in its place. + +He had begun now to systematically feel over the table, proceeding +regularly with both hands from left to right and back again, until on a +last return trip he discerned the edge of the mahogany next his body. +And then he said--and he said it with spirit: + +"Dod blast it! They ain't here--nowheres!" + +He sat still now for a moment in thought. And then he began to remember +that he had sat talking to his wife at the sewing-machine just before +she left the house. He rose and examined the table of the machine and +the floor beneath it. Then he tried the sideboard and the window-sill, +where he had read his morning chapter from St. Paul's Epistle to the +Romans, chapter viii. + +He even shook out the leaves of his Testament upon the floor between his +knees and felt for them there. There had been a Biblical surrender of +this sort more than once in the past, and he never failed to go to the +Good Book for relief, even when, as now, he distinctly remembered having +worn the glasses after his daily reading. + +Failing to find them here, he suddenly ran his hand over his forehead +with an eager movement. Many a time these very spectacles had come back +to him there, and, strange to say, it was always one of the last places +he remembered to examine. But they were not there now. + +He chuckled, even in his despair, as he dropped his hand. + +"I'll look there ag'in after a while. Maybe when he's afeerd I'll clair +lose my soul, he'll fetch 'em back to me!" + +The old man had often playfully asserted that his "guardeen angel" found +his lost glasses, and laid them back on his head for him when he saw him +tried beyond his strength. And maybe he was right. Who can tell? That +there is some sort of so-called "supernatural" intervention in such +matters there seems to be little doubt. + +There is a race--of brownies, probably, or maybe they are imps--whose +business in life seems to be to catch up any needed trifle--a suddenly +dropped needle, the very leaf in the morning paper that the reader held +a moment ago and that holds "continuations," the scissors just now at +his elbow, his collar button--and to hide it until the loser swears his +ultimate, most desperate swear! + +When the profanity is satisfactory, the little fellows usually fetch +back the missing article, lay it noiselessly under the swearer's nose, +and vanish. + +At other times, when the victim persistently declines profanity, they +have been known to amiably restore the articles after a reasonable time, +and to lay them so absurdly in evidence that the hitherto forbearing man +breaks his record in a volley of imprecations. + +When this happens, if one has presence of mind to listen, he can +distinctly hear a fine metallic titter along the tops of the furniture +and a hasty scamper, as of tiny scurrying feet. + +This may sound jocund, but the writer testifies that it is true. + +Of course when the victim is a lady the pixies do not require of them +men's oaths. But they will have only her best. + +When the elder had tried in vain all the probable places where the +glasses might be hidden, he began to realize that there was only one +thing left for him to do. He must feel all over the floor. + +He was a fat old man and short of neck. + +For five years he had realized a feeling of thankfulness that the +Presbyterian form of worship permitted standing in prayer. It hurt him +to kneel. But nothing could hurt him so much as to fail to hand in his +report to-night. Indeed, the missionary collection would be affected by +it. It _must be written_. + +He found a corner in the room and got down on his marrow-bones, throwing +his hands forward and bringing them back in far-reaching curves, as one +swimming. This was hard work, and before many minutes great drops of +perspiration were falling upon the carpet and the old man's breath came +in quick gasps. + +"Ef I jest had the blame things _for a minute_ to slip on my eyes, why, +_I could find 'em_--easy enough!" he ejaculated--desperation in his +voice. + +And then he proceeded to say a number of things that were lacking in +moderation, and consequently very sinful--in an elder of the church. + +The "bad words" spoken in the vacant house fell accusingly upon the +speaker's ears, and they must have startled him, for he hastened to add: +"I don't see where no sense o' jestice comes in, nohow, in allowin' a +man on the very eve of doin' his Christian duty to lose his most +important wherewithal!" + +This plea was no doubt in mild extenuation of the explosive that had +preceded it, and as he turned and drew himself forward by his elbows to +compass a new section of the room, which, by-the-way, seemed suddenly +expanded in size, he began to realize that the plea was in itself most +sinful--even more so than the outburst, perhaps, being an implication of +divine injustice. + +A lump came into his throat, and as he proceeded laboriously along on +his dry swim, he felt for a moment in danger of crying. + +Of course this would never do, but there was just so much emotion within +him, and it had begun to ferment. + +Before he realized his excitement his arms were flying about wildly and +he was shrieking in a frenzy. + +"But _I must have 'em_! I _must have 'em_! I must, I say; O Lord, I +must--I MUST HAVE THEM SPECTACLES! Lor-r-d, I have work to do--FOR +THEE--an' I am eager to perform it. All I ask is FIVE MINUTES' USE O' +MY EYES, so thet I may pursue this search in patience--" + +His voice broke in a sob. + +And just now it was that his left hand, fumbling over the foot of the +sewing-machine treadle, ran against a familiar bit of steel wire. + +If it had connected with an ordinary electric battery, the resulting +shock could scarcely have been more pronounced. + +There was something really pathetic in the spasmodic grasp with which he +seized the glasses, and as he rose to a sitting posture and lifted them +to his eyes, his hand shook pitifully. + +"Thank the Lord! _Now I can see to look for 'em!_" And as he +tremblingly brought the curved ends of the wire around his ears he +exclaimed with fervor, "Yas, Lord, with Thy help I will keep my +vow--an' pursue this search in patience." His wet, red face beamed +with pleasure over the recovery of his near vision. So happy was he, +indeed, in the new possession, that, instead of rising, he sat still +in the middle of the floor, running his eyes with rapid scrutiny over +the carpet near him. He sat here a long time--even forgetting his +discomfort, while he turned as on a pivot as the search required. +Though the missing articles did not promptly appear at his side, +Bradley felt that he was having a good time, and so he was, +comparatively. Of course he would find the glasses presently. He +looked at his watch. What a joy to see its face! He would still have +time to do the report, if he hurried a little. He began to rise by +painful stages. + +"Lemme see! The last thing I done was to open the sideboa'd an' cut +a piece o' pie an' eat it. I _must_ o' had my glasses on then. I +ricollec' it was sweet-potato pie, an' it was scorched on one side. +Lordy! but what a pleasure it is to look for a thing when a person +_can_ look!" He crossed over to the sideboard. + +"Yas"--he had opened the door and was cutting another piece of pie. +"Yas. Sweet-potato pie, an' burnt on one side--the side thet's left. +Yas, an' I'll leave it ag'in!" He chuckled as he took a deep bite. + +"Of co'se I _must 'a'_ had 'em on _when I cut the pie_, or I couldn't +'ve _saw_ it so distinc'--'an I finished that slice a-settin' down +talkin' to her at the sewin'-machine. Ricollec' I told _her_ how mother +used to put cinnamon in hers. I'll go set there ag'in, an' maybe by +lookin' 'round--They might 'a' dropped in her darnin'-basket." + +It was while he sat here, running one hand through the basket and +holding the slice of pie in the other, that he heard a step, and, +looking up, he saw his wife standing in the door. + +"Why, Ephraim! What on earth!" she exclaimed. "I lef you there eatin' +that pie fo' hours ago, an' I come back an' find you settin' there yet! +You cert'n'y 'ain't forgot to make out yo' report?" + +"Forgot nothin', Maria." He swallowed laboriously as he spoke. "I 'ain't +done a thing sence you been gone but look for my glasses--not a blame +thing. An' I'm a-lookin' for 'em yet." + +Mrs. Bradley was frightened. She walked straight up to her husband and +took his hand. "Ephraim," she said, gently, and as she spoke she drew +the remainder of the pie from his yielding fingers--"Ephraim, I +wouldn't eat any mo' o' that heavy pie ef I was you. You ain't well. +Ef you can't make no mo' headway'n that on yo' favor_ite_ pie in fo' +hours, you're shorely goin' to be took sick." She took her handkerchief +and wiped his forehead. And then she added, with a sweet, wifely +tenderness: "To prove to you thet you ain't well, honey, yo' glasses +are on yo' nose right now. You better go lay down." + +Bradley looked straight into her face for some moments, but he did not +even blink. Then he said, in an awe-stricken voice: "Ef what you say +is true, Maria--an' from the clairness with which I see the serious +expression of yo' countenance I reckon it must be so--ef it _is_ so--" +He paused here, and a new light came into his eyes, and then they +filled with tears. "Why, Maria honey, _of co'se it's so_! I know when +I found 'em! But I was so full o' the thought thet _ef I jest had +my sight_ I could _look for 'em_ thet I slipped 'em on my nose an' +continued the search. Feel my pulse, honey; I've no doubt you're right. +I'm a-goin' to have a spell o' sickness." + +"Yes, dearie, I'm 'feered you are." + +The good woman drew him over to the lounge and carefully adjusted a +pillow to his head. "Now take a little nap, an' I'll send word over to +Elder Jones's thet you ain't feelin' well an' can't come to +prayer-meetin' to-night. What you need is rest, an' a change o' subject. +I jest been over to May Bennett's, an' she's give out thet she an' Pete +Sanders has broke off their engagement--an' Joe Legget, why his leg's +amputated clean off--an' Susan Tucker's baby had seven spasms an'--" + +"That so? I'm glad to hear it, wife. But ef you send word over to him +thet I ain't well, don't send tell the last minute, please. Ef you was +to, he'd come by here, shore--an' they'd be questions ast, an' I +couldn't stand it. Jest send word when the second bell starts a-ringin' +thet I ain't well. _An' I ain't_, Maria." + +"I'm convinced o' that, Ephraim--or I wouldn't send the message--an' you +know it. We ain't so hard pressed for excuses thet we're goin' to lie +about it. I knowed you wasn't well ez soon ez I see that piece o' pie." + +Bradley coughed a little. "Appearances is sometimes deceitful, Maria. I +hadn't wrastled with that pie ez unsuccessful ez I seemed. That was the +second slice I'd et sence you left. No, the truth is, I lost my glasses, +an' I got erritated an' flew into a temper an' said things. An' the +Lord, He punished me. He took my reason away. He gimme the glasses an' +denied me the knowledge of 'em. But I'm thankful to Him for lettin' me +have 'em--anyhow. Ef I was fo'ordained to search for 'em, it was mighty +merciful in Him to loan 'em to me to do it with." + + + + +THE SECOND MRS. SLIMM + + +Ezra Slimm was a widower of nearly a year, and, as a consequence, was in +a state of mind not unusual in like circumstances. + +True, the said state of mind had not in his case manifested itself in +the toilet bloomings, friskiness of demeanor, and protestations of youth +renewed which had characterized the first signs of the same in the usual +run of Simpkinsville widowers up to date. If he had for several months +been mentally casting about for another wife, he had betrayed it by no +outward and visible sign. The fact is Ezra's case was somewhat +exceptional, as we shall presently see. + +Although he was quite diminutive in size, there was in his bearing, as +with hands clasped behind him he paced up and down before his lonely +fireside, a distinct dignity that was not only essentially manly--it was +_gentlemanly_. + +The refinement of feeling underlying this no doubt aggravated the +dilemma in which he found himself, and which we cannot sooner comprehend +than by attending to his soliloquy as he reviewed his trials in the +following somewhat rambling fashion: + +"No, 'twouldn't never do in the world--never, never. 'Twouldn't never do +to marry any o' these girls round here thet knows all my ups an' downs +with--with pore Jinny. 'Twouldn't never do. Any girl thet knew thet her +husband had been chastised by his first wife the way I've been would +think thet ef she got fretted she was lettin' 'im off easy on a +tongue-lashin'. An' I s'pose they is times when any woman gits sort o' +wrought up, livin' day in an' day out with a man. No, 'twouldn't never +do," he repeated, as, thrusting both hands in his pockets, he stopped +before the fire, and steadying the top of his head against the mantel, +studied the logs for a moment. + +"An' so the day pore Jinny took it upon herself to lay me acrost her lap +an' punish me in the presence of sech ill-mannered persons ez has seen +fit to make a joke of it--though I don't see where the fun comes +in--well, that day she settled the hash for number two so fur ez this +town goes. + +"No, 'twouldn't never do in the world! Even ef she never throwed it up +to me, I'd be suspicious. She couldn't even to say clap her hands +together to kill a mosquito less'n I'd think she was insinuatin'. An' +jest ez quick ez any man suspicions thet his wife is a-naggin' him +intentional, it's good-by happiness. + +"Ef 'twasn't for that, of co'se they's more'n one young woman roun' this +county thet any man might go further an' do worse than git. + +"Not thet I hold it agin Jinny, now she's gone, but--" + +He had resumed his promenade, extending it through a second room as he +proceeded: + +"--but it does seem strange how a woman gifted in prayer ez she was, +an' with all her instinc's religious the way hers was, should o' been +allowed to take sech satisfaction in naggin' the very one she agonized +most over in prayer, which I _know_ she done over me, _for I've heerd +'er_. An' ef she had o' once-t mentioned me to the Lord confidential +ez a person fitten to commingle with the cherubim an' seraphim, 'stid +of a pore lost sinner not fitten to bresh up their wing-feathers for +'em, I b'lieve I might o' give in. I don't wonder I 'ain't never had a +call to enter the Kingdom on her ricommendation. 'Twouldn't o' been +fair to the innocent angels thet would 'a' been called on to associate +with me. That's the way I look at it. + +"An' yit Jinny 'lowed herself thet my _out'ard ac's_ was good, but +bein' ez they didn't spring from a converted _heart_, they was jest +nachel _hypocercy_, an' thet ef I'd o' lied an' stole, _or even +answered her back_, she'd o' had more hope for me, because, sez she, +a 'consistent sinner is ap' to make a consistent Christian.' + +"She even tol' me one day--pore Jinny! I can see her face light up now +when she said it--sez she, 'I'm ac-chilly most afeerd _to_ see you +converted, less'n you'll break out in some devilment you hadn't never +thought about before-you're that inconsistent.' + + [Illustration: "'I'M AC-CHILLY MOST AFEERD _TO_ SEE YOU CONVERTED'"] + +"Sometimes I feel mean to think I don't miss 'er more'n what I do--an' +she so lively, too. Tell the truth, I miss them little devils she used +to print on the butter pads she set at my plate ez a warnin' to me--seem +to me I miss them jest about ez much ez I miss her. + +"The nearest I ever _did_ come to answerin' her back--'cept, of co'se, +the time she chastised me--was the way I used regular to heat my +knife-blade good an' hot 'twix' two batter-cakes an' flatten that devil +out _de_lib'rate. But he'd be back nex' day, pitchfork an' all. + +"But with it all Jinny loved me--in her own way, of co'se. Doubt if I'll +ever git another to love me ez well; 'n' don't know ez I crave it, +less'n she was different dispositioned. + +"I've done paid her all the respec's I know--put up a fine Bible-texted +tombstone for her, an' had her daguerre'type enlarged to a po'tr'it. I +don't know's I'm obligated to do any more, 'cep'n, of co'se, to wait +till the year's out, which, not havin' no young children in need of a +mother, I couldn't hardly do less than do." + +It was about a week after this that Ezra sat beside his fire reading his +paper, when his eye happened to fall upon the following paragraph among +the "personals": + + "The Claybank Academy continues to thrive under the able management + of Miss Myrtle Musgrove. That accomplished and popular young lady + has abolished the use of the rod, and by substituting the law of + kindness she has built up the most flourishing academy in the + State." + +Ezra read the notice three times. Then he laid the paper down, and +clapping his hand upon it, exclaimed: "Well, I'll be doggoned ef that +ain't the woman for me! _Any_ girl thet could teach a county school an' +abolish whuppin'--not only a chance to do it, but a crowd o' young +rascals _needin_' it all around 'er, an' her _not doin' it_! An' yit +some other persons has been known to strain a p'int to whup a person +they 'ain't rightly got no business _to_ whup." He read the notice +again. "Purty name that, too, Myrtle Musgrove. Sounds like a girl to go +out walkin' with under the myrtle-trees in the grove moonlight nights, +Myrtle Musgrove does. + +"I declare, I ain't to say religious, but I b'lieve that notice was +sent to me providential. + +"Of co'se, maybe she wouldn't look at me ef I ast her; but one thing +shore, she _can't if I don't_. + +"Claybank is a good hund'ed miles from here 'n' I couldn't leave the +farm now, noways; besides, the day I start a-makin' trips from home, +talk'll start, an' I'll be watched close-ter'n what I'm watched now--ef +that's possible. But th' ain't nothin' to hender me _writin_'--ez I +can see." + +This idea, once in his mind, lent a new impulse to Ezra's life, a fresh +spring to his gait, so evident to solicitous eyes that during the next +week even his dog noticed it and had a way of running up and sniffing +about him, as if asking what had happened. + +An era of hope had dawned for the hitherto downcast man simply because +Miss Myrtle Musgrove, a woman he had never seen, had abolished whipping +in a distant school. + +Two weeks passed before Ezra saw his way clearly to write the proposed +letter, but he did, nevertheless, in the interval, walk up and down his +butter-bean arbor on moonlight nights, imagining Miss Myrtle beside +him--Miss Myrtle, named for his favorite flower. He _had_ preferred +the violet, but he had changed his mind. Rose-colored crepe-myrtles were +blooming in his garden at the time. Maybe this was why he began to think +of her as a pink-faced laughing girl, typified by the blushing flower. +Everything was so absolutely real in her setting that the ideal girl +walked, a definite embodiment of his fancy, night after night by his +side, and whether it was from his life habit or an intuitive fancy, he +looked _upward_ into her face. He had always liked tall women. + +And all this time he was trying to frame a suitable letter to the real +"popular and accomplished Miss Musgrove," of Claybank Academy. + +Finally, however, the ambitious and flowery document was finished. + +It would be unfair to him whose postscript read, "For Your Eyes alone," +to quote in full, for the vulgar gratification of prying eyes, the +pathetic missive that told again the old story of a lonely home, the +needed woman. But when it was sent, Ezra found the circuit of the +butter-bean arbor too circumscribed a promenade, and began taking the +imaginary Miss Myrtle with him down through his orchard and +potato-patch. + +It was during these moonlight communings that he seemed to discover that +she listened while he talked--a new experience to Ezra--and that even +when he expressed his awful doubts as to the existence of a personal +devil she only smiled, and thought he might be right. + +Oh, the joy of such companionship! But, oh, the slowness of the mails! + +A month passed, and Ezra was beginning to give up all hope of ever +having an answer to his letter, when one day it came, a dainty envelope +with the Claybank postmark. + +Miss Musgrove thanked him for his letter. She would see him. It would +not be convenient now, but would he not come down to the academy's +closing exercises in June--a month later? Until then she was very +respectfully his friend, Myrtle Musgrove. + +The next month was the longest in Ezra's life. Still, the Lord's +calendar is faithful, and the sun not a waiter upon the moods of men. + +In twenty-nine days exactly a timid little man stood with throbbing +heart at the door of Claybank Academy, and in a moment more he had +slipped into a back seat of the crowded room, where a young orator was +ringing Poe's "Bells" through all the varying cadences of his changing +voice to a rapt audience of relations and friends. Here unobserved Ezra +hoped to recover his self-possession, remove the beads of perspiration +one by one from his brow with a corner of his neatly folded +handkerchief, and perhaps from this vantage-ground even enjoy the +delight of recognizing Miss Myrtle without an introduction. + +He had barely deposited his hat beneath his chair when there burst upon +his delighted vision a radiant, dark-eyed, red-haired creature in pink, +sitting head and shoulders above her companions on a bench set at right +angles with the audience seats, in front of the house. There were a +number of women in the row, and they were without bonnets. Evidently +these were the teachers, and of course the pink goddess was Miss Myrtle +Musgrove. + +Ezra never knew whether the programme was long or short. The bells had +tintinabulated and musically welled into "Casabianca" which, in turn, +had merged into "The Queen o' the May," and presently before he realized +it Freedom was ringing in the closing notes of "America," and everybody +was standing up, pupils filing out, guests shaking hands, babel +reigning, and he had seen only a single, towering, handsome woman in all +the assembly. + +Indeed, it had never occurred to him to doubt his own intuition, until +suddenly he heard his own name quite near, and turning quickly, he saw a +stout matronly woman of forty years or thereabouts standing beside him, +extending her hand. + +Every unmarried woman is a "young lady" by courtesy south of Mason and +Dixon's line. + +"I knew you as soon as I saw you, Mr. Slimm," she was saying. "I am Miss +Musgrove. But you didn't know me," she added, archly, while Ezra made +his bravest effort at cordiality, seizing her hand in an agony which it +is better not to attempt to describe. + +Miss Musgrove's face was wholesome, and so kindly that not even a +cross-eye had power to spoil it. But Ezra saw only the plain middle-aged +woman--the contrast to the blooming divinity whose image yet filled his +soul. And he was committed to her who held his hand, unequivocally +committed in writing. If he sent heavenward an agonized prayer for +deliverance from a trying crisis, his petition was soon answered. And +the merciful instrument was even she of the cross-eye. Before he had +found need of a word of his own, she had drawn him aside, and was +saying: + +"You see, Mr. Slimm, the only trouble with me is that I am already +married." + +"Married!" gasped Ezra, trying in vain to keep the joy out of his voice. +"Married, you--you don't mean--" + +"Yes, married to my profession--the only husband I shall ever take. But +your letter attracted me. I am a Normal School psychology student--a +hard name for a well-meaning woman--and it seemed to me you were worth +investigating. So I investigated. Then I knew you ought to be helped. +And so I sent for you, and I am going to introduce you to three of the +sweetest girls in Dixie; and if you can't find a wife among them, then +you are not so clever as I think you--that's all about it. And here +comes one of them now. Kitty, step here a minute, please. Miss Deems, my +friend, Mr. Slimm." + +And Miss Myrtle Musgrove was off across the room before Ezra's gasp had +fully expanded into the smile with which he greeted Miss Kitty Deems, a +buxom lass with freckles and dimples enough to hold her own anywhere. + +Two other delightful young women were presented at intervals during the +afternoon in about the same fashion, and but for a certain pink Juno who +flitted about ever in sight, Ezra would have confessed only an +embarrassment of riches. + +"And how do you get on with my girls?" was Miss Musgrove's greeting +when, late in the evening, she sought Ezra for a moment's _tete-a-tete_. + +He rubbed his hands together and hesitated. + +"'Bout ez fine a set o' young ladies ez I ever see," he said, with real +enthusiasm; "but, tell the truth, I--but you've a'ready been so +kind--but--There she is now! That tall, light-complected one in pink--" + +"Why, certainly, Mr. Slimm. If you say so, I'll introduce her. A fine, +thorough-going girl, that. You know we have abolished whipping in the +academy, and that girl thought one of her boys needed it, and she +followed him home, and gave it to him there, and his father interfered, +and--well, _she whipped him too_. Fine girl. Not afraid of anything +on earth. Certainly I'll introduce you, if you say so." + +She stopped and looked at Ezra kindly. And he saw that she knew all. + +"Well, I ain't particular. Some other time," he began to say; then +blushing scarlet, he seized her hand, and pressing it, said, fervently, +"God bless you!" + + * * * * + +The second Mrs. Slimm is a wholesome little body, with dimples and +freckles, whom Ezra declares "God A'mighty couldn't o' made without +thinkin' of Ezra Slimm an' his precize necessities." + +No one but himself and Miss Musgrove ever knew the whole story of his +wooing, nor why, when in due season a tiny dimpled Miss Slimm came into +the family circle, it was by Ezra's request that she was called Myrtle. + + + + +APOLLO BELVEDERE + +A CHRISTMAS EPISODE OF THE PLANTATION + + +He was a little yellow man with a quizzical face and sloping shoulders, +and when he gave his full name, with somewhat of a flourish, as if it +might hold compensations for physical shortcomings, one could hardly +help smiling. And yet there was a pathos in the caricature that +dissipated the smile half-way. It never found voice in a laugh. The +pathetic quality was no doubt a certain serious ingenuousness--a +confiding look that always met your eye from the eager face of the +diminutive wearer of second-hand coats and silk hats. + +"Yas, I'm named 'Pollo Belvedere, an' my marster gi'e me dat intitlemint +on account o' my shape," he would say, with a strut, on occasion, if he +were bantered, for he had learned that the name held personal +suggestions which it took a little bravado to confront. Evidently +Apollo's master was a humorist. + +Apollo had always been a house-servant, and had for several years served +with satisfaction as coachman to his master's family; but after the +breaking up, when the place went into other hands, he failed to find +favor with the new-comers, who had an eye for conventional form, and so +Apollo was under the necessity of accepting lower rank on the place as a +field-hand. But he entered plantation circles with his head up. He had +his house rearing, his toilets, and his education--all distinguishing +possessions in his small world--and he was, in his way, quite a +gentleman. Apollo could read a chapter from the Bible without stopping +to spell. He seized his words with snap-shots and pronounced them with +genius. Indeed, when not limited by the suggestions of print, as when on +occasion he responded to an invitation to lead in public prayer, he was +a builder of words of so noble and complex architecture that one hearing +him was pleased to remember that the good Lord, being omniscient, must +of course know all tongues, and would understand. + +That the people of the plantation thought well of Apollo will appear +from the fact that he was more than once urged to enter the ministry; +but this he very discreetly declined to do, and for several reasons. In +the first place he didn't feel "called to preach"; and in the second +place he did feel called or impelled to play the fiddle; and more than +that, he liked to play dance music, and to have it "danced by." + +As Apollo would have told you himself, the fact that he had never +married was not because he couldn't get anybody to have him, but simply +that he hadn't himself been suited. And, indeed, it is because of the +romance of his life that Apollo comes at all into this little sketch +that bears his name. Had he not been so pathetic in his serious and +grotesque personality, the story would probably have borne the name of +its heroine, Miss Lily Washington, of Lone Oak Plantation, and would +have concerned a number of other people. + +Lily was a beauty in her own right, and she was belle of the plantation. +She stood five feet ten in her bare feet, and although she tipped the +scales at a hundred and sixty, she was as slim and round as a reed, and +it was well known that the grip of her firm fingers applied to the +closed fist of any of the young fellows on the place would make him +howl. She was an emotional creature, with a caustic tongue on occasion, +and when it pleased her mood to look over her shoulder at one of her +numerous admirers and to wither him with a look or a word, she did not +hesitate to do it. For instance, when Apollo first asked her to marry +him--it had been his habit to propose to her every day or so for a year +or two past--she glanced at him askance from head to foot, and then she +said: "Why, yas. Dat is, I s'pose, of co'se, you's de sample. I'd order +a full-size by you in a minute." This was cruel, and seeing the pathetic +look come into his face, she instantly repented of it, and walked home +from church with him, dismissing a handsome black fellow, and saying +only kind things to Apollo all the way. And while he walked beside her, +he told her that, although she couldn't realize it, he was as tall as +she, for his feet were not on the ground at all; which was in a manner +true, for when Lily was gracious to him, he felt himself borne along on +wings that the common people could not see. + +Of course no one took Apollo seriously as Lily's suitor, much less the +chocolate maid herself. But there were other lovers. Indeed, there were +all the others, for that matter, but in point of eligibility the number +to be seriously regarded was reduced to about two. These were Pete +Peters, a handsome griff, with just enough Indian in his blood to give +him an air of distinction, and a French-talking mulatto who had come up +from New Orleans to repair the machinery in the sugar-house, and who was +buying land in the vicinity, and drove his own sulky. Pete was less +prosperous than he, but although he worked his land on shares, he owned +two mules and a saddle-horse, and would be allowed to enter on a +purchase of land whenever he should choose to do so. Although Pete and +the New Orleans fellow, whose name was also Peter, but who was called +Pierre, met constantly in a friendly enough way, they did not love each +other. They both loved Lily too much for that. But they laughed +good-naturedly together at Apollo and his "case," which they inquired +after politely, as if it were a member of his family. + +"Well, 'Pollo, how's yo' case on Miss Lily comin' on?" either one would +say, with a wink at the other, and Apollo would artlessly report the +state of the heavens with relation to his particular star, as when he +once replied to this identical question, + +"Well, Miss Lily was mighty obstropulous 'istiddy, but she is mo' +cancelized dis mornin'." + +It was Pete who had asked the question, and he laughed aloud at the +answer. "Mo' cancelized dis mornin', is she?" he replied. "How you know +she is?" + +"'Caze she lemme tote her hoe all de way up f'om de field," answered the +ingenuous Apollo. + +"She did, did she? An' who was walkin' by her side all dat time, I like +to know?" + +Apollo winced a little at this, but he answered, bravely, "I don't kyah +ef Pier was walkin' wid her; I was totin' her hoe, all de samee." + +At this Pete seemed to forget all about Apollo and his case, and he +remarked that he never could see what some folks saw in city niggers, +nohow--and neither could Apollo. And they felt a momentary sense of +nearness to each other that was not exactly a bond, but they did not +talk any more as they walked along. + +It is probable that the coming of the "city fellow" into her circle +hastened to culmination more than one pending romance, and there were +now various and sundry coldnesses existing between Lily and a number of +the boys on the place, where there had recently existed only warm and +hopeful friendships. The intruder, who had a way of shrugging his +shoulders and declaring of almost any question, "Well, me, I dun'no'," +seemed altogether _too sure_ when it came to a question of Lily. At +least so he appeared to her more timid rural lovers. + + * * * * + +The Christmas-eve dance in the sugar-house had been for years an annual +function on the plantation. At this, since her debut, at fourteen, +three Christmases before, Lily had held undisputed sway, and all former +belles amiably accepted their places as lesser lights. But there had +been some quarrelling and even a fight or two on Lily's account, +indirectly, and the church people had declared against the ball, on the +score of domestic peace on the place. They had fought dancing _per se_ +as long as they could, but Terpsichore finally waltzed up the church +aisle, figuratively speaking, and flaunted her ruffled skirts in the +very faces of elders and minister, and they had had to smile and give +her a pew to keep her still. And she was in the church yet, a +troublemaker sometimes, and a disturber of spiritual peace--but still +there. + +If they had forcibly ejected her, some of their most promising and +important members would have followed. But they could preach to her, and +so they did. Mayhap in time they would convert her and have her and her +numerous votaries for their own. As the reverend brother thundered out +his denunciations of the ungodly goddess he cast his eyes often in the +direction of the leading dancer, and from her they would wander to the +small fiddler who sat beside the tall hat in a back pew. But somehow +neither Lily nor Apollo seemed in the least conscious of any personal +appeal in his glance, and when finally the question of the Christmas +ball was put to vote, they both rose and unequivocally voted for it. So, +for that matter, did so large a majority that one of the elders got up +and proposed that the church hold revival meetings, in the hope of +rousing her people to a realization of her dangers. And then Lily +whispered something to her neighbor, a good old man of the church, and +he stood up and announced that Miss Lily Washington proposed to have the +revival _after Christmas_. There was some laughter at this, and the +pastor very seriously objected to it as thwarting the very object for +which the meetings would be held; and then, seeing herself in danger of +being vanquished in argument, Lily, blushing a fine copper-color in real +maidenly embarrassment, rose in the presence of the congregation, to say +that when she proposed to have the revival after Christmas, she "didn't +mean no harm." She was only thinking that "it was a heap better to +repent 'n to backslide." + +This brought down the house, an expression not usually employed in this +connection, but which seems to force its way here as particularly +fitting. As soon as he could get a hearing the reverend brother gave out +a hymn, followed it with a short prayer, and dismissed the congregation. +And on the Sunday following he gave notice that for several reasons it +had been decided as expedient to postpone the revival meetings in the +church until _after Christmas_. No doubt he had come over to Lily's +way of thinking. + +Lily was perfectly ravishing in her splendor at the dance. The white +Swiss frock she wore was high in the neck, but her brown shoulders and +arms shone through the thin fabric with fine effect. About her slim +waist she tied a narrow ribbon of blue, and she carried a pink feather +fan, and the wreath about her forehead was of lilies-of-the-valley. She +had done a day's scouring for them, and they had come out of the summer +hat of one of the white ladies on the coast. This insured their quality, +and no doubt contributed somewhat to the quiet serenity with which she +bore herself as, with her little head held like that of the Venus of +Milo, she danced down the centre of the room, holding her flounces in +either hand, and kicking the floor until she kicked both her slippers to +pieces, when she finished the figure in her stocking feet. + +She had a relay of slippers ready, and there was a scramble as to who +should put them on; but she settled that question by making 'Pollo rise, +with his fiddle in his arms, and lend her his chair for a minute while +she pulled them on herself. Then she let Pete and Pierre each have one +of the discarded slippers as a trophy. Lily had always danced out +several pairs of slippers at the Christmas dance, but she had never +achieved her stocking feet in the first round until now, and she was in +high glee over it. If she had been admired before, she was looked upon +as a raving, tearing beauty to-night--and so she was. Fortunately 'Pollo +had his fiddling to do, and this saved him from any conspicuous folly. +But he kept his eyes on her, and when she grew too ravishingly lovely to +his fond vision, and he couldn't stand it a minute longer in silence, he +turned to the man next him, who played the bones, and remarked, "Ef--ef +anybody but Gord A'mighty had a-made anything as purty as Miss Lily, +dey'd 'a' stinted it somewhar," and, watching every turn, he lent his +bow to her varying moods while she tired out one dancer after another. +It was the New Orleans fellow who first lost his head utterly. He had +danced with her but three times, but while she took another's hand and +whizzed through the figures he scarcely took his eyes from her, and +when, at about midnight, he succeeded in getting her apart for a +promenade, he poured forth his soul to her in the picturesque English of +the quadroon quarter of New Orleans. "An' now, to proof to you my lorv, +Ma'm'selle Lee-lee"--he gesticulated vigorously as he spoke--"I am +geeving you wan beau-u-tiful Christmas present--I am goin' to geeve +you--w'at you t'ink? My borgee!" With this he turned dramatically and +faced her. They were standing now under the shed outside the door in the +moonlight, and, although they did not see him, Apollo stood within +hearing, behind a pile of molasses-barrels, where he had come "to cool +off." + +Lily had several times been "buggy-ridin'" with Pierre in this same +"borgee," and it was a very magnificent affair in her eyes. When he told +her that it was to be hers she gasped. Such presents were unknown on the +plantation. But Lily was a "mannerly" member of good society, if her +circle was small, and she was not to be taken aback by any compliment a +man should pay her. She simply fanned herself, a little flurriedly, +perhaps, with her feather fan, as she said: "You sho' must be jokin', +Mr. Pier. You cert'n'y must." But Mr. Pierre was not joking. He was +never more in earnest in his life, and he told her so, and there is no +telling what else he would have told her but for the fact that Mr. Pete +Peters happened to come out to the shed to cool off about this time, and +as he almost brushed her shoulder, it was as little as Lily could do to +address a remark to him, and then, of course, he stopped and chatted a +while; and after what appeared a reasonable interval, long enough for it +not to seem that she was too much elated over it, she remarked, "An' +by-de-way, Mr. Peters, I must tell you what a lovely Christmas gif' I +have just received by de hand of Mr. Pier. He has jest presented me wid +his yaller-wheeled buggy, an' I sho' is proud of it." Then, turning to +Pierre, she added, "You sho' is a mighty generous gen'leman, Mr. +Pier--you cert'n'y is." + +Peters gave Lily one startled look, but he instantly realized, from her +ingenuous manner, that there was nothing back of the gift of the +buggy--that is, it had been, so far as she was concerned, simply a +Christmas present. Pierre had not offered himself with the gift. And if +this were so, well, he reckoned he could match him. + +He reached forward and took Lily's fan from her hand. He hastened to do +this to keep Pierre from taking it. Then, while he fanned her, he said, +"Is dat so, Miss Lily, dat Mr. Pier is give you a buggy? Dat sholy is a +fine Christmas gif'--it sho' is. An' sence you fin' yo'se'f possessed of +a buggy, I trust you will allow me de pleasure of presentin' you wid a +horse to drive _in_ de buggy." He made a graceful bow as he spoke, a +bow that would have done credit to the man from New Orleans. It was so +well done, indeed, that Lily unconsciously bowed in return, as she +said, with a look that savored a little of roguishness: "Oh, hursh, Mr. +Peters! You des a-guyin' me--dat what you doin'." + +"Guyin' nothin'," said Peters, grinning broadly as he noted the +expression of Pierre's face. "Ef you'll jes do me de honor to accep' of +my horse, Miss Lily, I'll be de proudest gen'leman on dis plantation." + +At this she chuckled, and took her fan in her own hand. And then she +turned to Pierre. "You sho' has set de style o' mighty expensive +Christmas gif's on dis plantation, Mr. Pier--you cert'n'y has. An' I +wants to thank you bofe mos' kindly--I cert'n'y does." + +Having heard this much, 'Pollo thought it time to come from his hiding, +and he strolled leisurely out in the other direction first, but soon +returned this way. And then he stopped, and reaching over, took the +feather fan--and for a few moments he had his innings. Then some one +else came along and the conversation became impersonal, and one by one +they all dropped off--all except 'Pollo. When the rest had gone he and +Lily found seats on the cane-carrier, and they talked a while, and when +a little later supper was announced, it was the proud fiddler who took +her in, while Pierre and Peters stood off and politely glared at each +other; and after a while Pierre must have said something, for Peters +suddenly sprang at him and tumbled him out the door and rolled him over +in the dirt, and they had to be separated. But presently they laughed +and shook hands, and Pierre offered Pete a cigarette, and Pete took it, +and gave Pierre a light--and it was all over. + + * * * * + +It was next day--Christmas morning--and the young people were standing +about in groups under the China-trees in the campus, when Apollo joined +them, looking unusually chipper and beaming. He was dressed in his +best--Prince Albert, beaver, and all--and he sported a bright silk +handkerchief tied loosely about his neck. + +He was altogether a delightful figure, absolutely content with himself, +and apparently at peace with the world. No sooner had he joined the +crowd than the fellows began chaffing him, as usual, and presently some +one mentioned Lily's name and spoke of her presents. The two men who had +broken the record for generosity in the history of plantation lovers +were looked upon as nabobs by those of lesser means. Of course everybody +knew the city fellow had started it, and they were glad Peters had come +to time and saved the dignity of the place; indeed he was about the only +one on the plantation who could have done it. + +As they stood talking it over the two heroes had nothing to say, of +course, and 'Pollo began rolling a cigarette--an art he had learned from +the man from New Orleans. + +Finally he remarked, "Yas, Miss Lily got sev'al mighty nice presents +last night." + +At this Pierre turned, laughing, and said, "I s'pose you geeve 'er +somet'ing too, eh?" + +"Pity you hadn't a-give her dat silk hankcher. Hit'd become her a heap +better'n it becomes you," Peters said, laughing. + +"Yas, I reckon it would," said 'Pollo; "but de fact is _she_ gi' _me_ +dis hankcher--an' of co'se I accepted it." + +"But why ain't you tellin' us what you give her?" insisted Peters. + +'Pollo put the cigarette to his lips, deliberately lit it, puffed +several times, and then, removing it in a leisurely way, he drawled: + +"Well, de fact is I heerd Mr. Pier here give her a buggy, an'--an' Mr. +Peters, he up an' handed over a horse,--an' so, quick as I got a +chance, I des balanced my ekalub'ium an' went an' set down beside her +an' ast her ef she wouldn't do me de honor to accep' of a _driver_, +an'--an' _she say yas_. + +"You know I'm a coachman by trade. + +"An' dat's huccome I come to say she got sev'al presents las' night." + +And he took another puff of his cigarette. + + + + +NEAREST OF KIN + +(ON THE PLANTATION) + + +When Tamar the laundress was married to the coachman Pompey, there was a +big time on the plantation. Tamar wore white tarlatan and an orange +wreath--although it was her severalth marriage--and she had six +bridemaids and a train-bearer. The last, a slim little black girl of +about ten years, was dressed somewhat after the fashion of the ballet, +in green tarlatan with spangles, and her slender legs were carefully +wrapped with gilt paper that glistened through the clocked stockings +with fine effect. Otherwise the "clockings" in the black stockinet would +have lost their value. + +Pompey, as groom, was resplendent in the full glare of a white duck +suit, and he wore a rosette of satin ribbon--"so's to 'stinguish him out +f'om de groomsmen," each of whom was likewise "ducked" out in immaculate +linen; and if there were some suggestive misfits among them, there were +ample laundry compensations in the way of starch and polish--a proud +achievement of the bride. + +There was a good deal of marching up and down the aisles of the church +by the entire party before the ceremony, which was, altogether, really +very effective. Pompey was as black as his bride, and his face was as +carefully oiled and polished for the occasion as hers, which is saying a +good deal, both as to color and shine. + +After the ceremony everybody repaired, for a supper and dance, to the +sugar-house, where there was a bride's cake, with all the usual +accessories, such as the ring and thimble, to be cut for. And of course, +before the end of the evening, there was the usual distribution of bits +of cake to be "dreamed on." This last, indeed, was so important that +nearly every girl on the plantation slept in a neighbor's cabin that +night, so as to command the full potency of the charm by dreaming her +great dream in a strange bed. The whole wedding was, in fact, so +disturbing a social function that everything on the place was more or +less disarranged by it--even the breakfast hour at the great house, +which was fully three-quarters of an hour late next morning. But that +was no great matter, as all the family had been witnesses to the wedding +and were somewhat sleepy in consequence--and the "rising-bell" was a +movable form anyway. + +Perhaps if the nuptials had been less festive the demeanor of the bride +immediately afterwards would not have been so conspicuous. As it was, +however, when she appeared at the wash-house, ready for duty, on the +second morning following, dressed in heavy mourning, and wearing, +moreover, a pseudo-sorrowful expression on her every-otherwise shining +face, they wondered, and there was some nudging and whispering among the +negroes. Some hastily concluded that the marriage had been rashly +repudiated as a failure; but when presently the groom strolled into the +yard, smiling broadly, and when he proceeded with many a flourish to +devotedly fill her wash-tubs from the well for his bride, they saw that +there must be some other explanation. The importance of the central +figure in so recent a pageant still surrounded her with somewhat of a +glamour in the eyes of her companions, setting her apart, so that they +were slow to ask her any questions. + +Later in the day, though, when her mistress, happening to pass through +the yard, saw the black-gowned figure bending low over the tubs, she +hastened to the wash-shed. + +"Why, Tamar," she exclaimed, "what on earth--" + +At this Tamar raised her face and smiled faintly. Then, glancing down at +her dress to indicate that she understood, she drawled, demurely: + +"Ain't nothin' de matter, missy. I jes mo'nin' for Sister Sophy-Sophia." + +"Sophy-Sophia! You don't mean--" + +"Yas, 'm, I does. I means Pompey's las' wife, Sis' Sophy-Sophia. She +didn't have no kinfolks to go in mo'nin' for her, an' time Pompey an' me +got ingaged he made known his wushes to me, an' I promised him I'd put +on mo'nin' for her soon as I married into de family. Co'se I couldn't do +it 'fo' I was kin to her." + + [Illustration: "'I PROMISED HIM I'D PUT ON MO'NIN' FOR HER, SOON AS + I MARRIED INTO DE FAMILY.'"] + +"Kin to her!" the mistress laughed. "Why, Tamar, what relation on earth +are you to Pompey's former wife, I'd like to know?" + +The black woman dropped the garment she was wringing and thought a +moment. + +"Well, missy," she said, presently, "looks to me like I'm a speritu'l +foster-sister to her, ef I ain't no mo'--an' I done inherited all her +rights an' privileges, so Pompey say--an' ef I 'ain't got a right to +mo'n for her, _who is_? Dey tell me a 'oman is got a right to go in +mo'nin' for her husband's kin anyway; but of co'se, come down to it, +she warn't no blood-kin to Pompey, nohow. Howsomever, eve'ybody knows a +widder or a widderer is intitled to wear _all de mo'nin' dey is_; an' +his wife, why, she's intitled to a equal sheer in it, if she choose to +seize her rights. I'd 'a' put it on befo' de weddin', 'cep'n I didn't +have no title to it, an' it wouldn't 'a' been no comfort to her noways. +Set down, missy." She began wiping off one of her wash-benches with her +apron as she spoke. "Set down, mistus, an' lemme talk to you." + +The situation was interesting, and the mistress sat down. + +"You see, missy"--she had come nearer now, and assumed a confidential +tone--"you see, Sister Sophy-Sophia she 'ain't nuver found rest yit, an' +dat frets Pompey. Hit troubles 'im in de sperit--an' I promised him to +try to pacify her." + +"Pacify her! Why, Tamar! How can you pacify a person who is dead? And +how do you know that her spirit isn't at rest?" + +The black woman turned and looked behind her to make sure that no one +should overhear. Then, lowering her voice, she whispered: + +"Her grave 'ain't nuver settled yit, mistus. She been buried ever sence +befo' Christmus, an' hit ain't evened down yit. An' dat's a shore sign +of a onrestless sperit--yas, 'm." + +Her face had grown suddenly anxious as she spoke. And presently she +added: + +"Of co'se, when a grave settles _too_ quick, dat's a sign dey'll soon +be another death, an' nobody don't crave to see a grave sink too +sudden. But it'll ease down gradual--ef de dead sleeps easy--yas, 'm. +No, Sister Sophy-Sophia she 'ain't took no comfort in her grave yit. +An' Pompey, righteously speakin', ought to pacified her befo' he set +out to marry ag'in. Heap o' 'omans would 'a' been afeerd to marry a man +wid a unsunk grave on his hands--'feerd she'd ha'nt her. But I done had +'spe'unce, an' I'm mo' 'feerd o' live ha'nts 'n I is o' dead ones. I +know Sis' Sophy-Sophia she's _layin' dar_--an' she _can't git out_. You +know, she died o' de exclammatory rheumatism, an' some say hit was a +jedgmint f'om heaven. You know, Sis' Sophy-Sophia she was a devil for +fun. She would have her joke. An' some say Gord A'mighty punished her +an' turned eve'y bone in 'er body into funny-bones, jes to show her dat +eve'y funny thing ain't to be laughed at. An' ef you ever got a sudden +whack on de funny-bone in yo' elbow, missy, you know how she suffered +when she was teched. An' she ain't at rest yit. She done proved dat. Of +co'se, ef she died wid some'h'n' on 'er mind, we can't do nothin' for +her; but ef she jes need soothin', I'll git her quieted down." + +She leaned forward and resumed her washing--that is to say, she raised a +garment from the suds and looked at it, turned it over idly in her hands +several times, and dipped it languidly. + +Her visitor watched her in amused silence for a while. + +"And how are you going to soothe her, Tamar?" she asked, presently. +"Tell me all about it." + +At this the woman began wiping her hands upon her apron, and dropping +into a seat between two of the tubs and resting her arms upon their +rims, she faced her mistress. + +"Of co'se, honey," she began, "de fust thing is to _wear mo'nin_'--an' +dat ain't no special trouble to me--I got consider'ble black frocks +lef' over from my widderhoods. An' in addition to dat, I gwine carry it +around in my countenance--an' _ef she sees it_--an' I b'lieve de dead +does see--_maybe it'll ease her mind_. Of co'se, when a pusson ain't +able to sorrer in her heart, dey 'bleeged to wear it in dey face--" + +There was something in her voice as she said these last words--an +indescribable note that seemed to express detachment from all feeling in +the matter--that made her listener turn and look narrowly into her face. +Still, she was not in the least prepared for the hearty laughter that +greeted her question. + +"And don't you mourn for her in your heart, Tamar?" She eyed her +narrowly as she put the question. + +The black woman did not even attempt an answer. Nor did she apparently +even try to control her mirth. But, after a while, when she had laughed +until she was tired, she suddenly rose to her feet, and as she gathered +up a handful of wet garments, and began rubbing them on the wash-board, +she exclaimed, still chuckling: + +"Lemme git to my washin', honey, befo' I disgrace my mo'nin'." + +In a little while, however, she grew serious again, and although she +still seemed to have trouble with her shoulders, that insisted upon +expressing merriment, she said: + +"I 'clare, I talks like a plumb hycoprite, missy--I sho' does. But I +ain't. No, 'm, I ain't. Of co'se I grieves for Sis' Sophy-Sophia. I'd +grieve for any po' human dat can't find rest in 'er grave--an' I'm gwine +to consolate her, good as I kin. Soon as de dark o' de moon comes, I +gwine out an' set on her grave an' moan, an' ef dat don't ease her, +maybe when her funer'l is preached she'll be comforted." + +"And hasn't she had her funeral sermon yet, Tamar?" + +"Oh no, 'm. 'Tain't time, hardly, yit. We mos' gin'ly waits two or +three years after de bury-in' befo' we has members' funer'ls preached. +An' we don't nuver, sca'cely, have 'em under a year. You see, dey's a +lot o' smarty folks dat 'ain't got nothin' better to do 'n to bring up +things ag'in dead folks's cha'acter, so we waits tell dey been restin' +in de groun' a year or so. Den a preacher he can expec' to preach dey +funer'ls in peace. De fac' is, some o' our mos' piousest elders an' +deacons is had so many widders show up at dey funer'ls dat de chu'ches +is most of 'em passed a law dat dey compelled to wait a year or so an' +give all dese heah p'omiscu'us widders time to marry off--an' save +scandalizement. An' Pompey an' Sophy-Sophia dey didn't have no mo'n a +broomstick weddin' nohow--but of co'se _dey did have de broomstick. I'm +a witness to dat, 'caze dey borried my broom--yas, 'm._ Ricollec', I +had one o' dese heah green-handle sto'e brooms, an' Pompey he come over +to my cabin one mornin' an' he say, 'Sis' Tamar,' he say, 'would you +mind loandin' Sis' Sophy-Sophia dat green-handle straw broom dat you +sweeps out de chu'ch-house wid?' You 'member, I was married to Wash +Williams dat time--Wash Williams wha' live down heah at de cross-roads +now. He's married to Yaller Silvy now. You know dat red-head +freckled-face yaller gal dat use to sew for Mis' Ann Powers--always +wear a sailor hat--wid a waist on her no thicker'n my wris'--an' a +hitch in her walk eve'y time she pass a man? Dat's de gal. She stole +Wash f'om me--an' she's welcome to 'im. Any 'oman is welcome to any man +she kin git f'om me. Dat's my principle. But dese heah yaller freckle +niggers 'ain't got no principle _to_ 'em. I done heerd dat all my +life--an' Silvy she done proved it. Time Wash an' me was married he was +a man in good chu'ch standin'--a reg'lar ordained sexton, at six +dollars a month--an' I done de sweepin' for him. Dat's huccome I +happened to have dat green-handle sto'e broom. Dat's all I ever did git +out o' his wages. Any day you'd pass Rose-o'-Sharon Chu'ch dem days you +could see him settin' up on de steps, like a gent'eman, an' I sho' did +take pride in him. An' now, dey tell me, Silvy she got him down to +shirt-sleeves--splittin' rails, wid his breeches gallused up wid twine, +while she sets in de cabin do' wid a pink caliker Mother Hubbard +wrapper on fannin' 'erse'f. An' on Saturdays, when he draw his pay, +you'll mos' gin'ally see 'em standin' together at de hat an' ribbon +show-case in de sto'e--he grinnin' for all he's worth. An' my belief is +he grins des to hide his mizry." + +"You certainly were very good to do his sweeping for him." Tamar's +graphic picture of a rather strained situation was so humorous that it +was hard to take calmly. But her mistress tried to disguise her +amusement so far as possible. To her surprise, the question seemed to +restore the black woman to a fresh sense of her dignity in the +situation. + +"Cert'ny I done it," she exclaimed, dramatically. "Cert'ny. You reckon +I'd live in de house wid a man dat 'd handle a broom? No, ma'am. Nex' +thing I'd look for him to sew. No, ma'am. But I started a-tellin' you +huccome I come to know dat Pompey an' Sis' Sophy-Sophia was legally +married wid a broom. One day he come over to my cabin, jes like I +commenced tellin' you, an' he s'lute me wid, 'Good-mornin', Sis' Tamar; +I come over to see ef you won't please, ma'am, loand Sister Sophy-Sophia +Sanders dat straw broom wha' you sweeps out de chu'ch-house wid, please, +ma'am?' An' I ricollec's de answer I made him. I laughed, an' I say, +'Well, Pompey,' I say, 'I don't know about loandin' out a chu'ch broom +to a sinner like you.' An' at dat he giggle, 'Well, we wants it to +play preacher--an' dat seems like a mighty suitable job for a chu'ch +broom.' An' of co'se wid dat I passed over de broom, wid my best +wushes to de bride; an' when he fetched it back, I ricollec', he +fetched me a piece o' de weddin'-cake--but it warn't no mo'n common +one-two-three-fo'-cup-cake wid about seventeen onfriendly reesons +stirred into it wid brown sugar. I 'clare, when I looks back, I sho' +is ashamed to know dat dey was ever sech a po' weddin'-cake in my +family--I sho' is. Now you know, missy, of co'se, dese heah +broom--weddin's dey ain't writ down in nuther co't-house nur chu'ch +books--an' so ef any o' dese heah smarty meddlers was to try to bring +up ole sco'es an' say dat Sister Sophy-Sophia wasn't legally married, +dey wouldn't be no witnesses _but me an' de broom_, an' I'd have to +witness _for it_, an'--an' _I_ wouldn't be no legal witness." + +"Why wouldn't you be a legal witness, Tamar?" + +"'_Caze I got de same man_--an' dat's de suspiciouses' thing dey kin +bring up ag'ins' a witness--so dey tell me. Ef 'twarn't for dat, I'd +'a' had her fun'al preached las' month." + +"But even supposing the matter had been stirred up--and you had been +unable to prove that everything was as you wished--wouldn't your +minister have preached a funeral sermon anyway?" + +"Oh yas, 'm, cert'n'y. On'y de fun'al he'd preach wouldn't help her to +rest in her grave--dat's de on'ies' diffe'ence. Like as not dey'd git +ole Brother Philemon Peters down f'om de bottom-lands to preach +wrath--an' I wants grace preached at Sister Sophy-Sophia's fun'al, even +ef I has to wait ten years for it. She died in pain, but I hope for her +to rest in peace--an' not to disgrace heaven wid crutches under her +wings, nuther. I know half a dozen loud-prayers, now, dat 'd be on'y too +glad to 'tract attention away f'om dey own misdoin's by rakin' out +scandalizemint on a dead 'oman. Dey'd 'spute de legalness of dat +marriage in a minute, jes to keep folks f'om lookin' up dey own weddin' +papers--yas, 'm. But me an' de broom--we layin' low, now, an' keepin' +still, but we'll speak when de time comes at de jedgmint day, ef she +need a witness." + +"But tell me, Tamar, why didn't Pompey take his bride to the church if +they wanted a regular wedding?" + +"Dey couldn't, missy. Dey couldn't on account o' Sis' Sophy-Sophia's +secon' husband, Sam Sanders. He hadn't made no secon' ch'ice yit--an', +you know, when de fust one of a parted couple marries ag'in, dey +'bleeged to take to de broomstick--less'n dey go whar 'tain't known on +'em. Dat's de rule o' divo'cemint. When Yaller Silvy married my Joe wid +a broomstick, dat lef' me free for a chu'ch marriage. An' I tell you, +_I had it, too_. But ef she had a'tempted to walk up a chu'ch aisle +wid Joe--an' me still onmarried--well, I wush dey'd 'a' tried it! I'd +'a' been standin' befo' de pulpit a-waitin' for 'em--an' I'd 'a' quoted +some Scripture at 'em, too. But dey acted accordin' to law. Dey married +quiet, wid a broomstick, an' de nex' Sunday walked in chu'ch together, +took de same pew, an' he turned her pages mannerly for her--an' dat's de +ladylikest behavior Silvy ever been guilty of in her life, I reckon. She +an' him can't nair one of 'em read, but dey sets still an' holds de book +an' turns de pages--an' Gord Hisself couldn't ax no mo' for chu'ch +behavior. But lemme go on wid my washin', missy--for Gord's sake." + +Laughing again now, she drew a match from the ledge of one of the +rafters, struck it across the sole of her bare foot, and began to light +the fire under her furnace. And as she flattened herself against the +ground to blow the kindling pine, she added, between puffs, and without +so much as a change of tone: + +"Don't go, please, ma'am, tell I git dis charcoal lit to start dese +shirts to bile. I been tryin' to fix my mouf to ax you is you got air +ole crepe veil you could gimme to wear to chu'ch nex' Sunday--please, +ma'am? I 'clare, I wonder what's de sign when you blowin' one way an' a +live coal come right back at yer 'gins' de wind?" And sitting upon the +ground, she added, as she touched her finger to her tongue and rubbed a +burnt spot upon her chin: "Pompey 'd be mighty proud ef I could walk in +chu'ch by his side in full sisterly mo'nin' nex' Sunday for po' Sister +Sophy-Sophia--yas, 'm. I hope you kin fin' me a ole crepe veil, please, +ma'am." + +Unfortunately for the full blossoming of this mourning flower of +Afro-American civilization, as it is sometimes seen to bloom along the +by-ways of plantation life, there was not a second-hand veil of crepe +forth-coming on this occasion. There were small compensations, however, +in sundry effective accessories, such as a crepe collar and bonnet, not +to mention a funereal fan of waving black plumes, which Pompey +flourished for his wife's benefit during the entire service. Certainly +the "speritu'l foster-sister" of the mourning bride, if she witnessed +the tribute paid her that Sunday morning in full view of the entire +congregation--for the bridal pair occupied the front pew under the +pulpit--would have been obdurate indeed if she had not been somewhat +mollified. + +Tamar consistently wore her mourning garb for some months, and, so far +as is known, it made no further impression upon her companions than to +cause a few smiles and exchanges of glances at first among those of +lighter mind among them, some of whom were even so uncharitable as to +insinuate that Sis' Tamar wasn't "half so grieved as she let on." The +more serious, however, united in commending her act as "mos' +Christian-like an' sisterly conduc'." And when, after the gentle +insistence of the long spring rains, added to the persuasiveness of +Tamar's mourning, the grave of her solicitude sank to an easy level, +bespeaking peace to its occupant, Tamar suddenly burst into full flower +of flaming color, and the mourning period became a forgotten episode of +the past. Indeed, in reviewing the ways and doings of the plantation in +those days, it seems entitled to no more prominence in the retrospect +than many another incident of equal ingenuousness and novelty. There was +the second wooing of old Aunt Salina-Sue, for instance, and Uncle +'Riah's diseases; but, as Another would say, these are other stories. + +Another year passed over the plantation, and in the interval the always +expected had happened to the house of Pompey the coachman. It was a tiny +girl child, black of hue as both her doting parents, and endowed with +the name of her sire, somewhat feminized for her fitting into the rather +euphonious Pompeylou. Tamar had lost her other children in infancy, and +so the pansy-faced little Pompeylou of her mid-life was a great joy to +her, and most of her leisure was devoted to the making of the pink +calico slips that went to the little one's adorning. + +On her first journey into the great world beyond the plantation, +however, she was not arrayed in one of these. Indeed, the long gown she +wore on this occasion was, like that of her mother, as black as the +rejuvenated band of crepe upon her father's stovepipe hat; for, be it +known, this interesting family of three was to form a line of chief +mourners on the front pew of Rose-of-Sharon Church on the occasion of +the preaching of the funeral of the faithfully mourned and long-lamented +Sophy-Sophia, whose hour of posthumous honor had at length arrived. The +obsequies in her memory had been fixed for an earlier date, but in +deference to the too-recent arrival of her "nearest of kin" was then too +young to attend, they had been deferred by Tamar's request, and it is +safe to say that no child was ever brought forward with more pride at +any family gathering than was the tiny Miss Pompeylou when she was +carried up the aisle "to hear her step-mammy's funeral preached." + +It was a great day, and the babe, who was on her very best +six-months-old behavior, listened with admirable placidity to the +"sermon of grace," on which at a future time she might, perhaps, found a +genealogy. Her only offence against perfect church decorum was a +sometimes rather explosive "Agoo!" as she tried to reach the +ever-swaying black feather fan that was waved by her parents in turn for +her benefit. Before the service was over, indeed, she had secured and +torn the proud emblem into bits; but Tamar only smiled at its demolition +by the baby fingers. It was a good omen, she said, and meant that the +day of mourning was over. + + + + +THE DEACON'S MEDICINE + + +When the doctor drove by the Gregg farm about dusk, and saw old Deacon +Gregg perched cross-legged upon his own gatepost, he knew that something +was wrong within, and he could not resist the temptation to drive up and +speak to the old man. + +It was common talk in the neighborhood that when Grandmother Gregg made +things too warm for him in-doors, the good man, her spouse, was wont to +stroll out to the front gate and to take this exalted seat. + +Indeed, it was said by a certain Mrs. Frequent, a neighbor of prying +proclivities and ungentle speech, that the deacon's wife sent him there +as a punishment for misdemeanors. Furthermore, this same Mrs. Frequent +did even go so far as to watch for the deacon, and when she would see +him laboriously rise and resignedly poise himself upon the narrow area, +she would remark: + +"Well, I see Grandma Gregg has got the old man punished again. Wonder +what he's been up to now?" + +Her constant repetition of the unkind charge finally gained for it such +credence that the diminutive figure upon the gate-post became an object +of mingled sympathy and mirth in the popular regard. + +The old doctor was the friend of a lifetime, and he was sincerely +attached to the deacon, and when he turned his horse's head towards the +gate this evening, he felt his heart go out in sympathy to the old man +in durance vile upon his lonely perch. + +But he had barely started to the gate when he heard a voice which he +recognized as the deacon's, whereupon he would have hurried away had not +his horse committed him to his first impulse by unequivocally facing the +gate. + +"I know three's a crowd," he called out cheerily as he presently drew +rein, "but I ain't a-goin' to stay; I jest--Why, where's grandma?" he +added, abruptly, seeing the old man alone. "I'm shore I heard--" + +"You jest heerd me a-talkin' to myself, doctor--or not to myself, +exactly, neither--that is to say, when you come up I was addressin' my +remarks to this here pill." + +"Bill? I don't see no bill." The doctor drew his buggy nearer. He was a +little deaf. + +"No; I said this pill, doctor. I'm a-holdin' of it here in the pa'm o' +my hand, a-studyin' over it." + +"What's she a-dosin' you for now, Enoch?" + +The doctor always called the deacon by his first name when he approached +him in sympathy. He did not know it. Neither did the deacon, but he felt +the sympathy, and it unlocked the portals of his heart. + +"Well"--the old man's voice softened--"she thinks I stand in need of +'em, of co'se. The fact is, that yaller-spotted steer run ag'in her +clo'esline twice-t to-day--drug the whole week's washin' onto the +ground, an' then tromped on it. She's inside a-renchin' an' a-starchin' +of 'em over now. An' right on top o' that, I come in lookin' sort o' +puny an' peaked, an' I happened to choke on a muskitty jest ez I come +in, an' she declared she wasn't a-goin' to have a consumpted man sick on +her hands an' a clo'es-destroyin' steer at the same time. An' with that +she up an' wiped her hands on her apron, an' went an' selected this here +pill out of a bottle of assorted sizes, an' instructed me to take it. +They never was a thing done mo' delib'rate an' kind--never on earth. But +of co'se you an' she know how it plegs me to take physic. You could +mould out ice-cream in little pill shapes an' it would gag me, even ef +'twas vanilly-flavored. An' so, when I received it, why, I jest come out +here to meditate. You can see it from where you set, doctor. It's a +purty sizeable one, and I'm mighty suspicious of it." + +The doctor cleared his throat. "Yas, I can see it, Enoch--of co'se." + +"Could you jedge of it, doctor? That is, of its capabilities, I mean?" + +"Why, no, of co'se not--not less'n I'd taste it, an' you can do that ez +well ez I can. If it's quinine, it'll be bitter; an' ef it's soggy +an'--" + +"Don't explain no mo', doctor. I can't stand it. I s'pose it's jest ez +foolish to investigate the inwardness of a pill a person is bound to +take ez it would be to try to lif the veil of the future in any other +way. When I'm obligated to swaller one of 'em, I jest take a swig o' +good spring water and repeat a po'tion of Scripture and commit myself +unto the Lord. I always seem foreordained to choke to death, but I +notice thet ef I recover from the first spell o' suffocation, I always +come through. But I 'ain't never took one yet thet I didn't in a manner +prepare to die." + +"Then I wouldn't take it, Enoch. Don't do it." The doctor cleared his +throat again, but this time he had no trouble to keep the corners of his +mouth down. His sympathy robbed him for the time of the humor in the +situation. "No, I wouldn't do it--doggone ef I would." + +The deacon looked into the palm of his hand and sighed. "Oh yas, I +reckon I better take it," he said, mildly. "Ef I don't stand in need of +it now, maybe the good Lord'll sto'e it up in my system, some way, +'g'inst a future attackt." + +"Well"--the doctor reached for his whip--"well, _I_ wouldn't do +it--_steer or no steer_!" + +"Oh yas, I reckon you would, doctor, ef you had a wife ez worrited over +a wash-tub ez what mine is. An' I had a extry shirt in wash this week, +too. One little pill ain't much when you take in how she's been +tantalized." + +The doctor laughed outright. + +"Tell you what to do, Enoch. Fling it away and don't let on. She don't +question you, does she?" + +"No, she 'ain't never to say questioned me, but--Well, I tried that +once-t. Sampled a bitter white capsule she gave me, put it down for +quinine, an' flung it away. Then I chirped up an' said I felt a heap +better--and that wasn't no lie--which I suppose was on account o' the +relief to my mind, which it always did seem to me capsules was jest +constructed to lodge in a person's air-passages. Jest lookin' at a box +of 'em'll make me low-sperited. Well, I taken notice thet she'd look at +me keen now an' ag'in, an' then look up at the clock, an' treckly I see +her fill the gou'd dipper an' go to her medicine-cabinet, an' then she +come to me an' she says, says she, 'Open yore mouth!' An' of co'se I +opened it. You see that first capsule, ez well ez the one she had jest +administered, was mostly morphine, which she had give me to ward off a +'tackt o' the neuraligy she see approachin', and here I had been tryin' +to live up to the requi'ements of quinine, an' wrastlin' severe with a +sleepy spell, which, ef I'd only knew it, would o' saved me. Of co'se, +after the second dose-t, which I swallered, I jest let nature take its +co'se, an' treckly I commenced to doze off, an' seemed like I was a +feather-bed an' wife had hung me on the fence to sun, an' I remember how +she seemed to be a-whuppin' of me, but it didn't hurt. Of co'se nothin' +couldn't hurt me an' me all benumbed with morphine. An' I s'pose what +put the feather-bed in my head was on account of it bein' goose-pickin' +time, an' she was werrited with windy weather, an' she tryin' to fill +the feather-beds. No, I won't never try to deceive her ag'in. It never +has seemed to me thet she could have the same respect for me after +ketchin' me at it, though she 'ain't never referred to it but once-t, +an' that was the time I was elected deacon, an' even then she didn't do +it outspoke. She seemed mighty tender over it, an' didn't no mo'n remind +me thet a officer in a Christian church ought to examine hisself mighty +conscientious an' be sure he was free of deceit, which, seemed to me, +showed a heap 'o' consideration. She 'ain't got a deceitful bone in her +body, doctor." + + [Illustration: "SAYS SHE, 'OPEN YORE MOUTH.' AN' OF CO'SE I OPENED + IT"] + +"Why, bless her old soul, Enoch, you know thet I think the world an' all +o' Grandma Gregg! She's the salt o' the earth--an' rock-salt at that. +She's saved too many o' my patients by her good nursin', in spite o' my +poor doctorin', for me not to appreciate her. But that don't reconcile +me to the way she doses you for her worries." + +"It took me a long time to see that myself, doctor. But I've reasoned it +out this a-way: I s'pose when she feels her temper a-risin' she's 'feerd +thet she might be so took up with her troubles thet she'd neglect my +health, an' so she wards off any attackt thet might be comin' on. I +taken notice that time her strawberry preserves all soured on her hands, +an' she painted my face with iodine, a man did die o' the erysipelas +down here at Battle Creek, an' likely ez not she'd heerd of it. Sir? No, +I didn't mention it at the time for fear she'd think best to lay on +another coat, an' I felt sort o' disfiggured with it. Wife ain't a +scoldin' woman, I'm thankful for that. An' some o' the peppermints an' +things she keeps to dole out to me when she's fretted with little +things--maybe her yeast'll refuse to rise, or a thunder-storm'll kill a +settin' of eggs--why, they're so disguised thet _'cep'n thet I know +they're medicine_--" + +"Well, Kitty, I reckon we better be a-goin'." The doctor tapped his +horse. "Be shore to give my love to grandma, Enoch. An' ef you're bound +to take that pill--of co'se I can't no mo'n speculate about it at this +distance, but I'd advise you to keep clear o' sours an' acids for a day +or so. Don't think, because your teeth are adjustable, thet none o' yore +other functions ain't open to salivation. _Good_-night, Enoch." + +"Oh, she always looks after that, doctor. She's mighty attentive, come +to withholdin' harmful temptations. Good-bye, doctor. It's did me good +to open my mind to you a little. + +"Yas," he added, looking steadily into his palm as the buggy rolled +away--"yas, it's did me good to talk to him; but I ain't no more +reconciled to you, you barefaced, high-foreheaded little roly-poly, you. +Funny how a pill thet 'ain't got a feature on earth can look me out o' +countenance the way it can, and frustrate my speech. Talk about whited +sepulchures, an' ravenin' wolves! I don't know how come I to let on thet +I was feelin' puny to-night, nohow. I might've knew--with all them +clo'es bedaubled over--though I can't, ez the doctor says, see how me +a-takin' a pill is goin' to help matters--but of co'se I wouldn't let on +to him, an' he a bachelor." + +He stopped talking and felt his wrist. + +"Maybe my pulse is obstropulous, an' ought to be sedated down. Reckon +I'll haf to kill that steer--or sell him, one--though I swo'e I +wouldn't. But of co'se I swo'e that in a temper, an' temp'rate vows +ain't never made 'cep'in' to be repented of." + +Several times during the last few minutes, while the deacon spoke, there +had come to him across the garden from the kitchen the unmistakable odor +of fried chicken. + +He had foreseen that there would be a good supper to-night, and that the +tiny globule within his palm would constitute for him a prohibition +concerning it. + +Grandmother Gregg was one of those worthy if difficult women who never +let anything interfere with her duty as she saw it magnified by the +lenses of pain or temper. It usually pleased her injured mood to make +waffles on wash-day, and the hen-house owed many renovations, with a +reckless upsetting of nests and roosts, to one of her "splittin' +headaches." She would often wash her hair in view of impending company, +although she averred that to wet her scalp never failed to bring on the +"neuraligy." And her "neuraligy" in turn meant medicine for the deacon. + +It was probably the doctor's timely advice, augmented, possibly, by the +potencies of the frying-pan, with a strong underlying sympathy with the +worrying woman within--it was, no doubt, all these powers combined that +suddenly surprised the hitherto complying husband into such +unprecedented conduct that any one knowing him in his old character, and +seeing him now, would have thought that he had lost his mind. + +With a swift and brave fling he threw the pill far into the night. Then, +in an access of energy born of internal panic, he slid nimbly from his +perch and started in a steady jog-trot into the road, wiping away the +tears as he went, and stammering between sobs as he stumbled over the +ruts: + +"No, I won't--yas, I will, too--doggone shame, and she frettin' her life +out--of co'se I will--I'll sell 'im for anything he'll fetch--an' I'll +be a better man, yas, yas I will--but I won't swaller another one o' +them blame--not ef I die for it." + +This report, taken in long-hand by an amused listener by the road-side, +is no doubt incomplete in its ejaculatory form, but it has at least the +value of accuracy, so far as it goes, which may be had only from a +verbatim transcript. + +It was perhaps three-quarters of an hour later when Enoch entered the +kitchen, wiping his face, nervous, weary, embarrassed. Supper was on the +table. The blue-bordered dish, heaped with side bones and second joints +done to a turn, was moved to a side station, while in its accustomed +place before Enoch's plate there sat an ominous bowl of gruel. The old +man did not look at the table, but he saw it all. He would have realized +it with his eyes shut. Domestic history, as well as that of greater +principalities and powers, often repeats itself. + +Enoch's fingers trembled as he came near his wife, and standing with his +back to the table, began to untie a broad flat parcel that he had +brought in under his arm. She paused in one of her trips between the +table and stove, and regarded him askance. + +"Reckon I'll haf to light the lantern befo' I set down to eat, wife," he +said, by way of introduction. "Isrul'll be along d'rec'ly to rope that +steer. I've done sold him." The good woman laid her dish upon the table +and returned to the stove. + +"Pity you hadn't 'a' sold 'im day befo' yesterday. I'd 'a' had a heap +less pain in my shoulder-blade." She sniffed as she said it; and then +she added, "That gruel ought to be e't warm." + +By this time the parcel was open. There was a brief display of colored +zephyrs and gleaming card-board. Then Enoch began re-wrapping them. + +"Reckon you can look these over in the morn-in', wife. They're jest a +few new cross-stitch Bible texts, an' I knowed you liked Scripture +motters. Where'll I lay 'em, wife, while I go out an' tend to lightin' +that lantern? I told Isrul I'd set it in the stable door so's he could +git that steer out o' the way immejate." + +The proposal to lay the mottoes aside was a master-stroke. + +The aggrieved wife had already begun to wipe her hands on her apron. +Still, she would not seem too easily appeased. + +"I do hope you 'ain't gone an' turned that whole steer into perforated +paper, Enoch, even ef 'tis Bible-texted over." + +Thus she guarded her dignity. But even as she spoke she took the parcel +from his hands. This was encouragement enough. It presaged a thawing +out. And after Enoch had gone out to light the lantern, it would have +amused a sympathetic observer to watch her gradual melting as she looked +over the mottoes: + + "A VIRTUOUS WIFE IS FAR ABOVE RUBIES." + + "A PRUDENT WIFE IS FROM THE LORD." + + "BETTER A DINNER OF HERBS WHERE LOVE IS--" + +She read them over and over. Then she laid them aside and looked at +Enoch's plate. Then she looked at the chicken-dish, and now at the bowl +of gruel which she had carefully set on the back of the stove to keep +warm. + +"Don't know ez it would hurt 'im any ef I'd thicken that gruel up into +mush. He's took sech a distaste to soft food sense he's got that new +set." + +She rose as she spoke, poured the gruel back into the pot, sifted and +mixed a spoonful of meal and stirred it in. This done, she hesitated, +glanced at the pile of mottoes, and reflected. Then with a sudden +resolve she seized the milk-pitcher, filled a cup from it, poured the +milk into the little pot of mush, hastily whipped up two eggs with some +sugar, added the mixture to the pot, returned the whole to the yellow +bowl, and set it in the oven to brown. + +And just then Enoch came in, and approached the water-shelf. + +"Don't keer how you polish it, a brass lantern an' coal ile is like +murder on a man's hands. It will out." + +He was thinking of the gruel, and putting off the evil hour. It had been +his intention to boldly announce that he hadn't taken his medicine, that +he never would again unless he needed it, and, moreover, that he was +going to eat his supper to-night, and always, as long as God should +spare him, etc., etc., etc. + +But he had no sooner found himself in the presence of long-confessed +superior powers than he knew that he would never do any of these things. + +His wife was thinking of the gruel too when she encouraged delay by +remarking that he would better rest up a bit before eating. + +"And I reckon you better soak yo' hands good. Take a pinch o' that bran +out o' the safe to 'em," she added, "and ef that don't do, the Floridy +water is in on my bureau." + +When finally Enoch presented himself, ready for his fate, she was able +to set the mush pudding, done to a fine brown, before him, and her tone +was really tender as she said: + +"This ain't very hearty ef you're hungry; but you can eat it all. There +ain't no interference in it with anything you've took." + +The pudding was one of Enoch's favorite dishes, but as he broke its +brown surface with his spoon he felt like a hypocrite. He took one long +breath, and then he blurted: + +"By-the-way, wife, this reminds me, I reckon you'll haf to fetch me +another o' them pills. I dropped that one out in the grass--that is, ef +you think I still stand in need of it. I feel consider'ble better'n I +did when I come in this evenin'." + +The good woman eyed him suspiciously a minute. Then her eyes fell upon +the words "ABOVE RUBIES" lying upon the table. Reaching over, she lifted +the pudding-bowl aside, took the dish of fried chicken from its +sub-station, and set it before her lord. + +"Better save that pudd'n' for dessert, honey, an' help yo'self to some +o' that chicken, an' take a potater an' a roll, and eat a couple o' them +spring onions--they're the first we've had. Sence you're a-feelin' +better, maybe it's jest ez well thet you mislaid that pill." + + * * * * + +The wind blows sometimes from the east in Simkinsville, as elsewhere, +and there are still occasional days when the deacon betakes himself to +the front gate and sits like a nineteenth-century Simon Stilites on his +pillar, contemplating the open palm of his own hand, while he enriches +Mrs. Frequent's _repertoire_ of gossip by a picturesque item. + +But the reverse of the picture has much of joy in it; for, in spite of +her various tempers, Grandmother Gregg is a warm-hearted soul--and she +loves her man. And he loves her. + +Listen to him to-night, for instance, as, having finished his supper, he +remarks: + +"An' I'm a-goin' to see to it, from this on, thet you ain't fretted with +things ez you've been, ef I can help it, wife. Sometimes, the way I act, +I seem like ez ef I forgit you're all I've got--on earth." + +"Of co'se I reelize that, Enoch," she replies. "We're each one all the +other's got--an' that's why I don't spare no pains to keep you in +health." + + + + +TWO GENTLEMEN OF LEISURE + + +One could see at a glance that they were gentlemen as they strolled +leisurely along, side by side, through Madison Square, on Christmas +morning. + +A certain subtle charm--let us call it a dignified aimlessness--hung +about them like an easy garment, labelling them as mild despisers of +ambitions, of goals, of destinations, of conventionalities. + +The observer who passed from casual contemplation of their unkempt locks +to a closer scrutiny perceived, even in passing them, that their shoes +were not mates, while the distinct bagging at the knees of their +trousers was somewhat too high in one case, and too low in the other, to +encompass the knees within which were slowly, but surely, gaining tardy +secondary recognitions at points more or less remote from the first +impressions. + +One pair was a trifle short in the legs, while the other--they of the +too-low knee-marks--were turned up an inch or two above the shoes: a +style which in itself may seem to savor of affectation, and yet, taken +with the wearer on this occasion, dispelled suspicion. + +It seemed rather a cold day to sit on a bench in Madison Square, and yet +our two gentlemen, after making a casual tour of the walks, sat easily +down; and, indeed, though passers hurried by in heavy top-coats and +furs, it seemed quite natural that these gentlemen should be seated. + +One or two others, differing more or less as individuals from our +friends, but evidently members of the same social caste, broadly +speaking, were also sitting in the square, apparently as oblivious to +the cold as they. + +"The hardest thing to bear," the taller one, he of the short trousers, +was saying, as he dropped his shapely wrist over the iron arm of the +bench, "the hardest thing for the individual, under the present system, +is the arbitrariness of the assignments of life. The chief advantage of +the Bellamy scheme seems to me to be in its harmonious adjustments, so +to speak. Every man does professionally what he can best do. If you and +I had been reared under that system, now--" + +"What, think you, would Bellamy the prophet have made of you, Humphrey?" + +"Well, sir, his government would have taken pains to discover and +develop my tendency, my drift--" + +"Ah, I see. I should judge that nature had endowed you with a fine bump +of drift, Humphrey. But has it not been rather well cared for? The +trouble with drifting is, so say the preachers, that it necessarily +carries one downstream." + +"To the sea, the limitless, the boundless, the ultimatum--however, this +is irrelevant and frivolous. I am serious--and modest, I assure +you--when I speak of my gifts. I have, as you know, a pronounced gift at +repartee. Who knows what this might have become under proper +development? But it has been systematically snubbed, misunderstood, +dubbed impertinence, forsooth." + +"If I remember aright, it was your gift of repartee that--wasn't it +something of that sort which severed your connection with college?" + +"Yes, and here I am. That's where the shoe pinches. Ha! and by way of +literal illustration, speaking of the mal-adjustments of life, witness +this boot." + +The speaker languidly extended his right foot. + +"The fellow who first wore it had bunions, blast him, and I come into +his bunion-bulge with a short great toe. As a result, here I am in New +York in December, instead of absorbing sunshine and the odor of violets +in Jackson Square in New Orleans, with picturesqueness and color all +about me. No man could start South with such a boot as that. + +"I do most cordially hope that the beastly vulgarian who shaped it has +gone, as my friend Mantalini would express it, 'to the demnition +bow-wows.' You see the beauty of the Bellamy business is that all +callings are equally worthy. As a social factor I should have made a +record, and would probably have gone into history as a wit." + +"Condemn the history! You'd have gone into life, Humphrey. That's +enough. You'd have gone into the home--into your own bed at night--into +dinner in a dress-coat--into society, your element--into posterity in +your brilliant progeny, paterfamilias--" + +"Enough, Colonel. There are some things--even from an old comrade like +yourself--" + +"Beg pardon, Humphrey. No offence meant, I assure you. + +"It's only when life's fires are burning pretty low that we may venture +to stir the coals and knock off the ashes a little. + +"For myself, I don't mind confessing, Humphrey, that there have been +women--Don't start; there isn't even a Yule-log smouldering on my +heart's hearth to-day. I can stir the smoking embers safely. I say there +have been women--a woman I'll say, even--a nursemaid, whom I have seen +in this park--a perfect Juno. She was well-born I'd swear, by her +delicate ears, her instep, her curved nostrils--" + +"Did you ever approach your goddess near enough to catch her curved +articulation, Colonel? Or doubtless it flowed in angles, Anglo-Saxon +pura." + +"You are flippant, Humphrey. I say if this woman had had educational +advantages and--and if my affairs had looked up a little, well--there's +no telling! And yet, to tell you this to-day does not even warm my +heart." + +"Nor rattle a skeleton within its closet?" + +"Not a rattle about me, sir, excepting the rattle of these beastly +newspapers on my chest. Have a smoke, Humphrey?" + +The Colonel presented a handful of half-burned cigar-stubs. + +"No choice. They're all twenty-five-centers, assorted from a Waldorf +lot." + +"Thanks." + +Humphrey took three. The Colonel, reserving one for his own use, dropped +the rest into his outer pocket. + +And now eleven men passed, smoking, eleven unapproachables, before one +dropped a burning stump. + +As Humphrey rose and strode indolently forward to secure the fragment, +there was a certain courtliness about the man that even a pair of short +trousers could not disguise. It was the same which constrains us to +write him down Sir Humphrey. + +"I never appropriate the warmth of another man's lips," said he, as, +having first presented the light to his friend, he lit a fragment for +himself. Then, pressing out the fire of the last acquisition, he laid it +beside him to cool before adding it to his store. + +"Nor I," responded the Colonel--"at least, I never did but once. I +happened to be walking behind General Grant, and he dropped a smoking +stub--" + +"Which you took for Granted--" + +"If you will, yes. It was a bit sentimental, I know, but I rather +enjoyed placing it warm from his lips to mine. It was to me a sort of +calumet, a pipe of peace, for rebel that I was, and am, I always +respected Grant. Then, too, I fancied that I might deceive the fragment +into surrendering its choicest aroma to me, since I surprised it in the +attitude of surrender, and I believe it did." + +"Sentimental dog that you are!" said Sir Humphrey, smiling, as he +inserted the remaining bit of his cigar into an amber tip and returned +it to his lips. + +"You have never disclosed to me, Humphrey, where you procured that piece +of bric-a-brac?" + +"Haven't I? That is because of my Bostonian reticence. No secret, I +assure you. I found it, sir, in the lining of this coat. The fair donor +of this spacious garment on one occasion, at least, gave a _tip_ to +a beggar unawares." + +"Exceptional woman. Seems to me the exceptional beggar would have +returned the article." + +"Exceptional case. Didn't find the tip for a month. I was in Mobile at +the time. I should have written my benefactress had stationery been +available and had I known her name. When I returned to New York in the +spring there was a placard on the house. Otherwise I should have +restored the tip, and trusted to her courtesy for the reward of virtue." + +"You have forgotten that that commodity is its own reward?" + +"Yes, and the only reward it ever gets, as a New Orleans wit once +remarked. Hence, here we are. However, returning to my fair +benefactress, I haven't much opinion of her. Any woman who would mend +her husband's coat-sleeve with glue--look at this! First moist spell, +away it went. Worst of it was I happened to have no garment under it at +the time. However, the incident secured me quite a handsome acquisition +of linen. Happened to run against a clever little tub-shaped woman whose +ample bosom, I take it, was ordered especially for the accommodation of +assorted sympathies. She, perceiving my azure-veined elbow, invited me +to the dispensing-room of the I. O. U. Society, of which she was a +member, and presented me with a roll of garments, and--would you believe +it?--there wasn't a tract or leaflet in the bundle--and as to my soul, +she never mentioned the abstraction to me. Now, that is what I call +Christianity. However, I may come across a motto somewhere, yet. Of +course, at my first opportunity, I put on those shirts--one to wear, and +the other three to carry. So I've given them only a cursory examination +thus far." + +"Which one do you consider yourself wearing, Humphrey, and which do you +carry?" + +"I wear the _outside_ one, of course--and carry the others." + +"Do you, indeed? Well, now, if I were in the situation, I should feel +that I was wearing the one next my body--and carrying the other three." + +"That's because you are an egotist and can't project yourself. I have +the power the giftie gi'e me, and see myself as others see me. How's +that for quick adaptation?" + +"Quite like you. If the Scotch poet had not been at your elbow with his +offering, no doubt you'd have originated something quite as good. So you +may be at this moment absorbing condensed theology, _nolens +volens_." + +"For aught I know, yes, under my armpits. However, I sha'n't object, +just so the dogmas don't crowd out my morals. My moral rectitude is the +one inheritance I proudly retain. I've never sold myself--to anybody." + +"Nor your vote?" + +"Nor my vote. True, I have accepted trifling gratuities on election +occasions; but they never affected my vote. I should have voted the same +way, notwithstanding." + +"Well, sir, I am always persuaded to accept a bonus on such occasions +for _abstaining_. I have been under pay from both parties, each +suspecting me of standing with the opposition. Needless to say, I have +religiously kept my contract. I never vote. It involves too much +duplicity for a man of my profession." + +"Not necessarily. I resided comfortably for quite a period in the +basement of the dwelling of a certain political leader in this +metropolis, once. He wished to have me register for his butler, but I +stickled for private secretary, and private secretary I was written, +sir, though I discovered later that the rogue had registered me as +secretary to his coachman. However, the latter was the better man of the +two--dropped his h's so fast that his master seemed to feel constrained +to send everything to H---- for repairs." + +"What else could you expect for a man of _aspirations_?" + +"By thunder, Humphrey, that's not bad. But do you see, by yon clock, +that the dinner-hour approacheth?" + +The Colonel took from his waistcoat-pocket two bits of paper. + +"Somehow, I miss Irving to-day. There's nothing Irving enjoyed so much +as a free dinner-ticket. I see the X. Y. Z.'s are to entertain us at 1 +P.M., and the K. R. G.'s at 4." + +Sir Humphrey produced two similar checks. + +"Well, sir, were Irving here to-day I'd willingly present him with this +Presbyterian chip. There are some things to which I remain sensitive, +and I look this ticket in the face with misgivings. It means being +elbowed by a lot of English-slaying mendicants in a motto-bedecked +saloon, where every bite at the Presbyterian fowl seems a confession of +faith that that particular gobbler, or hen, as the case may be, was +fore-ordained, before the beginning of time, to be chewed by +yourself--or eschewed, should you decline it. Somehow theology takes the +zest out of the cranberries for me. However, _de gustibus_--" + +"Well, sir, I am a philosopher, and so was Irving. Poor Irving! He was +never quite square. It was he, you know, who perpetrated that famous +roach fraud that went the rounds of the press. I've seen him do it. He +would enter a restaurant, order a dinner, and, just before finishing, +discover a huge roach, a Croton bug, floating in his plate. Of course +the insects were his own contribution, but the fellow had a knack of +introducing them. He could slip a specimen into his omelette souffle, +for instance, dexterously slicing it in half with his knife, with a +pressure that left nothing to be desired. The interloper, compactly +imbedded, immediately imparted such an atmosphere to his vicinity that +even the cook would have sworn he was baked in. I blush to say I was +Irving's guest on one such occasion." + +"And Sir Roach paid for both dinners?" + +"Bless you, yes. Sir Roach, F.R.S. (fried, roasted, or stewed). Indeed, +his hospitality did not end here. We were pressed to call again, and +begged not to mention the incident. Of course, this was in our more +prosperous days, before either of us had taken on the stamp of our +exclusiveness. Even Irving would hesitate to try it now, I fancy." + +"Poor Irving! A good fellow, but morally insane. In Baton Rouge now, I +believe?" + +"Yes. He changed overcoats with a gentleman. + +"I wonder how the cooking is in that State institution, Humphrey? Irving +is such an epicure--" + +"Oh, he's faring well enough, doubtless. Trust those Louisianians for +cookery. When Irving is in New Orleans there are special houses where +he drops in on Fridays, just for _court-bouillon_. I've known him to +weed a bed of geraniums rather than miss it." + +"Such are the vicissitudes of pedestrianism. Well, _tempus fugit_; let +us be going. We have just an hour to reach our dining-hall. Here come +the crowd from church. The Christmas service is very beautiful. Do you +recall it, Humphrey?" + +"Only in spots--like the varioloid." + +They were quite in the crowd now, and so ceased speaking, and presently +the Colonel was considerably in advance of his companion. So it happened +that he did not see Humphrey stop a moment, put his foot on a bit of +green paper, drop his handkerchief, and in recovering it gather the +crumpled bill into it. + +Thus it came about that when Sir Humphrey overtook his friend, and, +tapping him upon the shoulder, invited him to follow him into a famous +saloon, the Colonel raised his eyes in mild surprise. + +Sir Humphrey paid for the drinks with a ten-dollar note, and then the +two proceeded to the side door of a well-known restaurant. + +"Private dining-room, please," he said, and he dropped a quarter into +the hands of the servant at the door as he led the way. + + * * * * + +It was two hours later when, having cast up his account from the bill of +fare, Sir Humphrey, calling for cigars, said: "Help yourself, Colonel. +If my arithmetic is correct, we shall enjoy our smoke, have a half +dollar for the waiter, and enter the Square with a whole cigar apiece in +our breast pockets--at peace with the world, the flesh, and his Satanic +majesty. Allow me to give you a light." + +He handed the Colonel one of the free dinner-tickets of the X. Y. Z. +Society. + +"The Presbyterian blue-light I reserve for my own use. Witness it burn. + +"Well, Colonel, I hope you have enjoyed your dinner?" + +"Thoroughly, sir, thoroughly. This is one of the many occasions in my +life, Humphrey, when I rejoice in my early good breeding. Were it not +for that, I should feel constrained to inquire whom you throttled and +robbed in crossing Fifth Avenue, two hours ago, during the forty seconds +when my back was turned." + +"And my pious rearing would compel me to answer, 'No one.' + +"The wherewithal to procure this Christmas dinner dropped straight from +heaven, Colonel. I saw it fall, and gratefully seized it, just in the +middle of the crossing." + +"Thanks. I have taken the liberty of helping myself to the rest of the +matches, Humphrey." + +"Quite thoughtful of you. We'll use one apiece for the other cigars. Do +you know I really enjoyed the first half of that smoke. It was quite +like renewing one's youth." + +And so, in easy converse, they strolled slowly down Fifth Avenue. + +As Sir Humphrey hesitated in his walk, evidently suffering discomfort +from his right boot, he presently remarked: + +"I say, Colonel, I think I'll call around tomorrow at a few of my +friends' houses, and see if some benevolent housewife won't let me have +a shoe for this right foot." + +"Or why not try your cigar on the ebony janitor of the apartment-house +across the way. He has access to the trash-boxes, and could no doubt +secure you a shoe--maybe a pair." + +"Thanks, Colonel, for the suggestion, but there are a few things I never +do. I never fly in the face of Providence. I shall smoke that cigar +intact." + +And they walked on. + + + + +THE REV. JORDAN WHITE'S THREE GLANCES + + +The Reverend Jordan White, of Cold Spring Baptist Church, was so utterly +destitute of color in his midnight blackness of hue as to be considered +the most thoroughly "colored" person on Claybank plantation, Arkansas. + +That so black a man should have borne the name of White was one of the +few of such familiar misfits to which the world never becomes insensible +from familiarity. From the time when Jordan, a half-naked urchin of six, +tremblingly pronounced his name before the principal's desk in the +summer free Claybank school to the memorable occasion of his +registration as an Afro-American voter, the announcement had never +failed to evoke a smile, accompanied many times by good-humored +pleasantry. + +"Well, sir," so he had often laughed, "I reck'n dey must o' gimme de +name o' White fur a joke. But de Jordan--I don' know, less'n dey named +me Jordan 'caze ev'ybody was afeerd ter cross me." + +From which it seems that the surname was not an inheritance. + +In his clerical suit of black, with standing collar and shirt-front +matched in fairness only by his marvellously white teeth and eyeballs, +Jordan was a most interesting study in black and white. + +There were no intermediate shades about him. Even his lips were black, +or of so dark a purple as to fail to maintain an outline of color. They +looked black, too. + +Jordan was essentially ugly, too, with that peculiar genius for ugliness +which must have inspired the familiar saying current among plantation +folk, "He's so ogly tell he's purty." + +There is a certain homeliness of person, a combined result of type and +degree, which undeniably possesses a peculiar charm, fascinating the eye +more than confessed beauty of a lesser degree or more conventional form. + +Jordan was ugly in this fashion, and he who glanced casually upon his +ebony countenance rarely failed to look again. + +He was a genius, too, in more ways than one. + +If nature gave him two startling eyes that moved independently of each +other, Jordan made the most of the fact, as will be seen by the +following confession made on the occasion of my questioning him as to +the secret of his success as a preacher. + +"Well, sir," he replied, "yer see, to begin wid: I got three glances, +an' dat gimme three shots wid ev'y argimint. + +"When I'm a preachin' I looks straight at one man an' lays his case out +so clair he can't miss it, but, you see, all de time I'm a-layin' him +out, my side glances is takin' in two mo'." + +"But," I protested, "I should think he whom you are looking at and +describing in so personal a manner would get angry, and--" + +"So he would, sir, if he knowed I was lookin' at him. _But he don't +know it_. You know, dat's my third glance an' hit's my secret glance. +You see, if my reel glance went straight, I'd have ter do like de rest +o' you preachers, look at one man while yer hittin' de man behin' 'im, +an' dat's de way dey _think I is doin_', whiles all de time I'm a +watchin' 'im wriggle. + +"Of cose, sometimes I uses my glances diff'ent ways. Sometimes I des +lets 'em loose p'omiskyus fur a while tell ev'ybody see blue lightnin' +in de air, an' de mo'ner's bench is full, an' when I see ev'ybody is +ready ter run fur 'is life, of co'se I eases up an' settles down on +whatever sinner seem like he's de leastest skeered tell I nails 'im +fast." + + [Illustration: "'I DES LETS 'EM LOOSE P'OMISKYUS, TELL EV'YBODY SEE + BLUE LIGHTNIN''"] + +He hesitated here a moment. + +"De onies' trouble," he resumed, presently. "De onies' trouble wid +havin' mixed glances is 'dat seem like hit confines a man ter preach +wrath. + +"So long as I tried preachin' Heaven, wid golden streets an' harp +music, I nuver fe'ched in a soul, but 'cep'n' sech as was dis a-waitin' +fur de open do' _to_ come in. Dat's my onies' drawback, Brer Jones. +Sometimes seem like when Heaven comes inter my heart I does crave ter +preach it in a song. Of cose, I does preach Heaven yit, but _I bleege +ter preach it f'om de Hell side, an' shoo 'em in_!" + +There was, I thought, the suspicion of a twinkle lurking in the corners +of his eyes throughout his talk, but it was too obscure for me to +venture to interpret it by a responsive smile, and so the question was +put with entire seriousness when I said: + +"And yet, Jordan, didn't I hear something of your going to an oculist +last summer?" + +"Yas, sir. So I did. Dat's true." He laughed foolishly now. + +"I did talk about goin' ter one o' deze heah occular-eye doctors las' +summer, _and I went once-t_, but I ain't nuver tol' nobody, an' you +mustn't say nothin' 'bout it, please, sir. + +"But yer see, sir." He lowered his voice here to a confidential whisper. +"Yer see dat was on account o' de ladies. I was a widder-man den, an', +tell de trufe, my mixed glances was gettin' me in trouble. Yer know in +dealin' wid de ladies, yer don' keer how many glances you got, yer wants +ter use 'em _one at a time_. Why dey was a yaller lady up heah at de +crossroads wha' 'blongs ter my church who come purty nigh ter suein' me +in de co't-house, all on account o' one o' my side glances, an' all de +time, yer see, my _reel_ glance, hit was settled on Mis' White, wha' +sot in de middle pew--but in cose she warn't Mis' White den; she was de +Widder Simpson." + +"And so you have been recently married," I asked; "and how does your +wife feel about the matter? + +"Well, yer see, sir," he answered, laughing, "she can't say nothin', +'caze she's cross-eyed 'erse'f. + +"An' lemme tell you some'h'n', boss." He lowered his tone again, +implying a fresh burst of confidence, while his whole visage seemed +twinkling with merriment. + +"Lemme tell yer some'h'n', boss. You ain't a ma'ied man, is yer?" + +I assured him that I was not married. + +"Well, sir, I gwine gi'e you my advice. An' I'm a man o' 'spe'unce. I +been ma'ied three times, an' of cose I done consider'ble co'tin' off'n +an' on wid all three, not countin' sech p'omiskyus co'tin' roun' as any +widder gemman is li'ble ter do, an' I gwine gi'e you some good advice. + +"Ef ever you falls in love wid air cross-eyed lady, an' craves ter +co't'er, you des turn down de lamp low 'fo' yer comes ter de fatal +p'int, ur else set out on de po'ch in de fainty moonlight, whar yer +can't see 'er eyes, caze dey's nothin' puts a co'tin' man out, and meek +'im lose 'is pronouns wuss 'n a cross-eye. An' ef it hadn't o' been dat +_I knowed what a cook she was_, tell de trufe, de Widder Simpson's +cross-eye would o' discour'ged me off enti'ely. + +"But now," he continued, chuckling; "but now I done got usen ter it; +it's purty ter me--seem like hit's got a searchin' glance dat goes out'n +its way ter fin' me." + +Needless to say, I found the old man amusing, and when we parted at the +cross-roads I was quite willing to promise to drop in some time to hear +one of his sermons. + +Although somewhat famed as a preacher, Jordan had made his record in +the pulpit not so much on account of any powers of oratory, _per se_, +as through a series of financial achievements. + +During the two years of his ministry he had built a new church edifice, +added the imposing parsonage which he occupied, and he rode about the +country on his pastoral missions, mounted on a fine bay horse--all the +result of "volunteer" contributions. + +And Jordan stood well with his people; the most pious of his fold +according him their indorsement as heartily as they who hung about the +outskirts of his congregation, and who indeed were unconsciously +supplying the glamour of his distinguished career; for the secret of +Jordan's success lay especially in his power of collecting money from +_sinners_. So it came about that, without adding a farthing to their +usual donations, the saints reclined in cushioned pews and listened to +the words of life from a prosperous, well-fed preacher, who was +manifestly an acceptable sower of vital seed--seed which took root in +brick and mortar, branched out in turret and gable, and flowered before +their very eyes in crimson upholstery. + +The truth was that Cold Spring was the only colored church known to its +congregation that boasted anything approaching in gorgeousness its +pulpit furnishings of red cotton velvet, and never a curious sinner +dropped in during any of its services for a peep at its grandeur without +leaving a sufficient quota of his substance to endow him with a +comfortable sense of proprietorship in it all. + +The man who has given a brick to the building of the walls of a +sanctuary has always a feeling of interest in the edifice, whether he be +of its fold or not, and if he return to it an old man, it will seem to +yield him a sort of welcoming recognition. The brick he gave is +somewhere doing its part in sustaining the whole, and the uncertainty of +its whereabouts seems to bestow it everywhere. + +I was not long in finding my way to Jordan's church. It was in summer +time, and a large part of his congregation was composed of young girls +and their escorts on the afternoon when I slipped into the pew near the +door. + +The church was crowded within, while the usual contingent of idlers hung +about the front door and open windows. + +I searched Jordan's face for a few moments, in the hope of discovering +whether he recognized me or not, but for the life of me I could not +decide. If his "secret glance" ever discerned me in my shadowed corner, +neither of the other two betrayed it. + +I soon discovered that there was to be no sermon on this occasion, for +which I was sorry, as I supposed that his most ambitious effort would +naturally take shape in this form. Of this, however, I now have my +doubts. + +After the conventional opening of service with prayer, Scripture +reading, and song, he passed with apparent naturalness to the +collection, the ceremony to which everything seemed to tend. + +The opening of this subject was again conventional, the only deviation +from the ordinary manner of procedure being that, instead of the hat's +passing round it was inverted upon the table beside the pulpit, while +contributors, passing up the aisles, deposited their contributions and +returned to their seats. + +This in itself, it will be seen, elevated the collection somewhat in the +scale of ceremonial importance. + +For some time the house was quite astir with the procession which moved +up one side and down the other, many singing fervently as they went, and +dramatically holding their coins aloft as they swayed in step with the +music, while above all rose the exhortations of the preacher which waxed +in fervor as the first generous impulse began to wane. + +"Drap in yo' dollar!" he was shouting. "Drap in yo' half dollar! Drap in +yo' dime! Drap in yo' nickel. Drap in yo' nickel, I say, an' ef yer +ain't got a nickel, come up an' let's pray fur yer! + +"Ef yer ain't got a nickel," he repeated, encouraged by the titter that +greeted this; "ef yer ain't got a nickel, come up an' let de whole +congergation pray fur yer! We'll teck up a collection fur any man dat 'l +stan' up an' confess he ain't wuth a nickel." + +A half dozen grinning young fellows stepped up now with coins concealed +in the palms of their hands. + +"Come on! Come on, all you nickel boys! Come on. + +"Ev'y nickel is a wheel ter keep salvation's train a-movin'! Come on, I +say; bring yo' wheels! + +"Ef you ain't got a big wheel fur de ingine fetch a little wheel fur de +freight train! We needs a-plenty o' freight kyars on dis salvation +train. 'Caze hit's loaded up heavy wid Bibles fur de heathen, an' brick +an' lumber to buil' churches, an' medicine fur de sick, an' ole clo'es +fur de po'--heap ob 'em wid de buttons cut off'n 'em, but dat ain't our +fault, we bleeged ter sen' 'em on! Fetch on yo' little wheels, I say, +fur de freight train." + +There had been quite a respectable response to this appeal thus far, but +again it spent itself and there was a lull when Jordan, folding his +arms, and looking intently before him, in several directions apparently, +exclaimed in a most tragic tone: + +"My Gord! Is de salvation train done stallded right in front o' Claybank +chu'ch, an' we can't raise wheels ter sen' it on? + +"Lord have mussy, I say! I tell yer, my brers an' sisters, you's +a-treatin' de kyar o' glory wuss'n you'd treat a ole cotton mule wagon! +You is, fur a fac'! + +"Ef air ole mule wagon ur a donkey-kyart was stallded out in de road in +front o' dis chu'ch--don' keer ef it was loaded up wid pippy chickens, +much less'n de Lord's own freight--dey ain't one o' yer but 'd raise a +wheel ter sen' it on! You know yer would! An' heah de salvation train +is stuck deep in de mud, an' yer know Arkansas mud _hit's mud_; hit +ain't b'iled custard; no, it ain't, an' hit sticks like glue! Heah de +glory kyar is stallded in dis tar-colored Arkansas glue-mud, I say, an' +I can't raise wheels enough out'n dis congergation ter sen' it on! An' +dis is de Holy Sabbath day, too, de day de Lord done special set apart +_fur_ h'istin' a oxes out'n a ditch, es much less'n salvation's train. + +"Now, who gwine fetch in de nex' wheel, my brothers, my sisters, my +sinner-frien's? Who gwine fetch a wheel? Dat's it! Heah come a +wheel--two wheels--three wheels; fetch one mo'; heah, a odd wheel; de +train's a-saggin' down lop-sided fur _one mo' wheel_! Heah it +come--f'om a ole 'oman, too! Shame on you, boys, ter let po' ole Aunt +Charity Pettigrew, wha' nussed yo' mammies, an' is half-blin' an' deef +at dat--shame on yer ter let 'er lif' dis train out'n de mud! An' yer +know she kyant heah me nuther. She des brung a wheel 'caze she felt de +yearth trimble, an' knowed de train was stallded! + +"Oh, my brers, de yearth gwine trimble wuss'n dat one o' deze days, an' +look out de rocks don't kiver you over! Don't hol' back dis train ef you +c'n he'p it on! I ain't axin' yer fur no paper greenbacks to-day _to +light de ingine fire_! + +"I ain't a-beggin' yer fur no gol' an' silver wheels fur de passenger +trains for de saints, 'caze yer know de passenger kyars wha' ride inter +de city o' de King, dey 'bleege ter have gol' and silver wheels ter +match de golden streets; but, I say, I ain't axin' yer fur no gol' an' +silver wheels to-day, nur no kindlin'! De train is all made up an' de +ingine is a steamin', an' de b'ilers is full. I say _de b'ilers is +full_, my dear frien's. + +"Full o' what? Whar do dey git water ter run dis gorspil train? Dis +heah's been a mighty dry season, an' de cotton-fiel's is a-beggin' now +fur water, an' I say _whar do de salvation train git water fur de +ingine_? + +"Oh, my po' sinner-frien's, does you want me ter tell yer? + +"De cisterns long de track is bustin' full o' water, an' _so long as a +sinner got o' tear ter shed_ de water ain't gwine run out!" + +"Yas, Lord!" "Glory!" "Amen!" and "Amen!" with loud groans came from +various parts of the house now, and many wheels were added to Glory's +train by the men about the door, while Jordan continued: + +"Don't be afeerd ter weep! De ingine o' Glory's kyar would o' gi'en out +o' water long 'fo' now in deze heah summer dry-drouths if 'twarn't fur +de tears o' sinners, an' de grief-stricken an' de heavy-hearted! I tell +yer Glory's train stops ter teck in water at de mo'ner's bench eve'y +day! So don't be afeerd to weep. But bring on de wheels!" + +He paused here and looked searchingly about him. + +There was no response. Stepping backward now and running both hands deep +into his pockets, he dropped his oratorical tone, and, falling easily +into the conversational, continued: + +"Well, maybe you right! Maybe you right, my frien's settin' down by de +do', an' my frien's leanin' 'gins' de choir banisters, an' I ain' gwine +say no mo'. I was lookin' fur you ter come up wid some sort o' wheel, +an' maybe a silver wheel ter match dat watch-chain hangin' out'n yo' +waistcoat-pocket; but maybe you right! + +"When a man set still an' say nothin' while de voice is a callin' I +reck'n he knows what he's a-doin'. + +"He knows whether de wheels in his pocket is _fitt'n_ fur de gorspil +kyar ur not! An' I say ter you to-day dat ef dat money in yo' pocket +ain't _clean money_, don't you _dare_ ter fetch it up heah! + +"Ef you made dat money sneakin' roun' henrooses in de dark o' de +moon--I don't say you is, but _ef_ you is--you set right still in yo' +seat an' don't _dare_ ter offer it ter de Lord, I say! + +"Ef you backed yo' wagon inter somebody else's watermillion patch by de +roadside an' loaded up on yo' way ter town 'fo' sunup--I don't say you +is, mind yer, but _ef you is_--set right whar you is, an' do des like +you been doin', 'caze de money you made on dat early mornin' wagon load +ain't fitt'n fur wheels fur de gorspil train! + +"An' deze yo'ng men at de winders, I say, ef de wheels in _yo_' pockets +come f'om _matchin' nickels on de roadside, or kyard-playin', or maybe +drivin' home de wrong pig_. (You nee'n't ter laugh. De feller dat +spo'ts de shinies' stovepipe hat of a Sunday sometimes cuts de ears +off'n de shoat he kills of a Sa'day, 'caze de ears got a tell-tale mark +on 'em.) _An', I say, ef you got yo' money dat a-way_, won't you des +move back from de winders, please, an' meck room fur some o' dem +standin' behin' yer dat got good hones' wheels ter pass in!" + +This secured the window crowds intact, and now Jordan turned to the +congregation within. + +"An' now, dear beloved." He lowered his voice. "For sech as I done +specified, _let us pray_!" + +He had raised his hands and was closing his eyes in prayer, when a man +rose in the centre of the church. + +"Brer Jordan," he began, laughing with embarrassment. "Ef some o' de +brers ur sisters'll change a dime fur me--" + +Jordan opened his eyes and his hands fell. + +"Bless de Lord!" he exclaimed, with feeling. + +"Bless de Lord, one man done claired 'isse'f! Glory, I say! Come on up, +Brer Smiff, 'n' I'll gi'e you yo' change!" + +"Ef--Brer Smiff'll loan _me_ dat nickel?" said a timid voice near the +window. + +Smith hesitated, grinning broadly. + +"Ef--ef I could o' spared de dime, Mr. Small, I'd a put it in myse'f, +but--but--" + +"_But nothin'_! Put de dime in de hat!" + +The voice came from near the front now. "Put it all in de hat, Brer +Smiff. You owes me a nickel an' I'll loan'd it to Mr. Small." + +And so, amid much laughter, Smith reluctantly deposited his dime. + +Others followed so fast that when Jordan exclaimed, "Who gwine be de +nex'?" his words were almost lost in the commotion. Still his voice had +its effect. + +"Heah one mo'--two mo'--fo' mo'--eight mo'! Glory, I say! An' heah dey +come in de winder! Oh, I'm proud ter see it, yo'ng men! I'm proud ter +see it!" + +Borrowing or making change was now the order of the moment, as every +individual present who had not already contributed felt called upon thus +to exonerate himself from so grave a charge. + +Amid the fresh stir a tremulous female voice raised a hymn, another +caught it up, and another--voices strong and beautiful; alto voices soft +as flute notes blended with the rich bass notes and triumphant tenors +that welled from the choir, and floated in from the windows, until the +body of the church itself seemed almost to sway with the rhythmic +movement of the stirring hymn + + "Salvation's kyar is movin'." + + [Illustration: "SALVATION'S KYAR IS MOVIN'!"] + +Still, above all, Jordan's voice could be distinguished--as a fine +musical instrument, and whether breaking through the tune in a volley +of exhortations, or rising superior to it all in a rich tenor--his +words thrown in snatches, or drawn out to suit his purpose--never once +did it mar the wonderful harmony of the whole. + +It was a scene one could not easily forget. + +The shaft of low sunlight that now filled the church, revealing a +bouquet of brilliant color in gay feathers and furbelows, with a +generous sprinkling of white heads, lit up a set of faces at once so +serious and so happy, so utterly forgetful of life's frettings and +cares, that I felt as I looked upon them, that their perfect vocal +agreement was surely but a faint reflection of a sweet spiritual +harmony, which even if it did not survive the moment, was worth a long +journey thither, for in so hearty a confession of fellowship, in so +complete a laying down of life's burdens, there is certainly rest and +a renewal of strength. + +Feeling this to be a good time to slip out unobserved, I noiselessly +secured my hat from beneath the pew before me, but I had hardly risen +when I perceived a messenger hurrying towards me from the pulpit, with +a request that I should remain a moment longer, and before I could +take in the situation the singing was over and Jordan was speaking. + +What he said, as nearly as I can recall it, was as follows: + +"Befo' I pernounces de benediction, I wants ter 'spress de thanks o' +dis chu'ch ter de 'oner'ble visitor wha' set 'isse'f so modes' in de +las' pew dis evenin', _an' den sen' up de bigges' conterbutiom_, +fulfillin' de words o' de Scripture, which say _de las' shill be fus' +an' de fus' shill be las_'. + +"Brer Chesterfiel' Jones, please ter rise an' receive de thanks o' de +congergation fur dat gen'rous five-dollar bill wha' you sont up by Brer +Phil Dolittle." + +He paused here, and feeling all eyes turned upon me, I was constrained +to rise to my feet, and I think I can truly say that I have never been +surprised by greater embarrassment than I felt as I hurriedly subsided +to the depths of my corner. Addressing himself now to Dolittle, Jordan +continued: + +"I 'ain't see you walk so biggoty in a _long_ time, Brer Dolittle, as +you walked when you fetched up dat five dollars. Ef dis heah 'd been a +cake walk yo'd o' tooken de prize, sho'. + +"De nex' time dy' all gets up a cake walk on dis plantation, lemme +advise you ter borry a five-dollar note _f'om somebody dat don't know +yer_, ter tote when yer walk. Hit'll he'p yer ter keep yo' chin up. + +"_An' dat ain't all_. Hit'll he'p _me_ ter keep _my chin up_ when I +ca'ys dis greenback bill to de grocery to-morrer an' I'll turn it into +a wheel, too--two wheels, wid a bulge between 'em. Now guess wha' dat +is?" + +The congregation were by this time convulsed with laughter, and some one +answered aloud: + +"A flour-bar'l!" + +"Dat's it, Joe, a flour-bar'l! You's a good guesser. + +"An' so now, in de name o' Col' Spring Chu'ch, Brer Jones, I thanks you +ag'in fur a bar'l o' flour, an' I tecks it mighty kin' o' you too, +'caze I knows deys a heap o' 'Piscopalpalian preachers _wha' wouldn't +o' done it!_ Dey'd be 'feerd dat ef dey gi'e any o' de high-risin' +'Piscopalpalian flour ter de Baptists dat dey'd ruin it wid _col' +water!_" + +There was so much laughter here that Jordan had to desist for a moment, +but he had not finished. + +"_But_," he resumed, with renewed seriousness--"_But ef Christians on'y +knowed it_, dey kin put a _little leaven o' solid Christianity_ in all +de charity flour dey gi'es away, an' hit'll _leaven de whole lot_ so +strong dat _too much water can't spile it_, nur _too much fire can't +scorch it_, nur _too much fore-sight_ (ur whatever dis heah is de +P'esberteriums mixes in dey bread) _can't set it so stiff it can't +rise_, 'caze hit's got de strong leaven o' de spirit in it, an' hit's +_boun' ter come up_! + +"I see de sun's gitt'n low, an' hit's time ter let down de bars an' +turn de sheeps loose, an' de goats too--not sayin' deys any goats in +dis flock, an' not sayin' dey ain't--but 'fo' we goes out, I wants +ter say one mo' word ter Brer Dolittle." + +His whole face was atwinkle with merriment now. + +"Dey does say, Brer Dolittle, dat riches is mighty 'ceitful an' +mighty ap' ter turn a man's head, an' I tookin' notice dat arter you +fetched up Brer Chesterfiel' Jones's five dollars to-day you nuver +corndescended ter meck no secon' trip to de hat on Brer Dolittle's +'count. + +"I did think I'd turn a searchin' glance on yer fur a minute an' +shame yer up heah, but you looked so happy an' so full o' biggoty I +spared yer, but yer done had time ter cool off now, an' I 'bleeged +ter bring yer ter de scratch. + +"Now, ef you done teched de five-dollar notch an' can't git down, +we'll git somebody ter loan'd yer a greenback bill ter fetch up, an' +whils' de congergation is meditatin' on dey sins I'll gi'e you back +fo' dollars an' ninety-five cents." + +Amid screams of laughter poor little Dolittle, a comical, wizen-faced +old man, nervously secured a nickel from the corner of his handkerchief, +and, grinning broadly, walked up with it. + +"De ve'y leastest a man _kin_ do," Jordan continued, as leaning forward +he presented the hat--"de ve'y _leastest_ he kin do is ter _live up ter +'is name_, an' ef my name was _Dolittle_ I sho' would try ter _live up +ter dat, ef I didn't pass beyond it_!" + +And as he restored the hat to the table beside him, he added, with a +quizzical lift of his brow: + +"I does try ter live up ter _my_ name even, an' yer know, my +feller-sinners, hit does look like a hard case fur a man o' my color +ter live up ter de name o' White." + +He waited again for laughter to subside. + +"At leas'," he resumed, seriously, "hit did look like a hard case _at +fust_, but by de grace o' Gord I done 'skivered de way ter do it! + +"Ef we all had ter live up ter our skins, hit'd be purty hard on a heap +of us; but, bless de Lord! he don't look at de skins; he looks at de +_heart_! + +"I tries ter keep my _heart_ white, an' my _soul_ white, an' my +_sperit_ white! Dat's how I tries ter live up ter _my_ name wid a +_white cornscience, bless de Lord_! An' I looks fur my people ter he'p +me all dey kin." + +And now, amid a hearty chorus of "Amens!" and "Glorys!" he raised his +hands for a benediction, which in its all-embracing scope did not fail +to invoke Divine favor upon "our good 'Piscopalpalian brother, Riviren' +Chesterfiel' Jones--Gord bless him." + + + + +LADY + +A MONOLOGUE OF THE COW-PEN + + +Umh! Fur Gord sake, des look at dem cows! All squez up together 'g'ins' +dem bars in dat sof' mud--des like I knowed dey gwine be--an' me late at +my milkin'! You Lady! Teck yo' proud neck down f'om off dat heifer's +head! Back, I tell yer! Don't tell me, Spot! Yas, I know she impose on +you--yas she do. Reachin' her monst'ous mouf clair over yo' po' little +muley head. Move back, I say, Lady! Ef you so biggoty, why don't you +fool wid some o' dem horn cows? You is a lady, eve'y inch of yer! You +knows who to fool wid. You is de uppishes' cow I ever see in all my +life--puttin' on so much style--an' yo' milk so po' an' blue, I could +purty nigh blue my starch clo'es wid it. Look out dar, Peggy, how you +squeeze 'g'ins' Lady! She ain' gwine teck none o' yo' foolishness. Peggy +ain't got a speck o' manners! Lady b'longs ter de cream o' s'ciety, I +have yer know,--an' bless Gord, I b'lieve dat's all de cream dey is +about her. Hyah! fur Gord's sake lis'n at me, passin' a joke on Lady! + +I does love to pleg dem cows--dey teck it so good-natured. Heap o' us +'omans mought teck lessons in Christianity f'om a cow--de way she stan' +so still an' des look mild-eyed an' chaw 'er cud when anybody sass 'er. +Dey'd be a heap less fam'ly quar'lin on dis plantation ef de 'omans had +cuds ter chaw--dat is ef dey'd be satisfied ter chaw dey own. But ef dey +was ter have 'em 'twouldn't be no time befo' dey'd be cud fights eve'y +day in de week, eve'y one thinkin' de nex' one had a sweeter moufful 'n +what she had. Reckon we got 'nough ter go to law 'bout, widout +cuds--ain't we Lady? Don't start pawin' de groun' now, des caze yer heah +me speculatin' at yo' feed-trough. I kin talk an' work too. I ain't like +you--nuver do n'air one. + +I ain't gwine pay no 'tention ter none o' y' all no mo' now tell I git +yo' supper ready. Po' little Brindle! Stan' so still, an' ain't say a +word. I'm a-fixin' yo' feed now, honey--yas, I is! I allus mixes yo's +fust, caze I know you nuver gits in till de las' one an' some o' de rest +o' de greedies mos' gin'ally eats it up fo' you gits it. + +She's a Scriptu'al cow, Brindle is--she so meek. + +Yas, I sho' does love Brindle. Any cow dat kin walk in so 'umble, after +all de res' git done, an' pick up a little scrap o' leavin's out'n +de trough de way she do--an' turn it eve'y bit into good yaller +butter--_dat what I calls a cow!_ Co'se I know Lady'll git in here +ahead o' yer, honey, an' eat all dis mash I'm a-mixin' so good fur you. +It do do me good to see 'er do it, too. I sho' does love Lady--de way +'er manners sets on 'er. She don't count much at de churn--an' she +ain't got no conscience--an' no cha'acter--_but she's a lady!_ Dat's +huccome I puts up wid 'er. Yas, I'm a-talkin' 'bout you, Lady, an' I'm +a-lookin' at yer, too, rahin' yo' head up so circumstantial. But you +meets my eye like a lady! You ain't shame-faced, is yer! You too well +riz--you is. _You_ know dat _I_ know dat yo' po' measly sky-colored +milk sours up into mighty fine clabber ter feed yo'ng tukkeys wid--you +an' me, we knows dat, don't we? + +Hyah! Dar, now, we done turned de joke on all you yaller-creamers--ain't +we, Lady? + +Lordy! I wonder fo' gracious ef Lady nod her head to me accidental! + +Is you 'spondin' ter me, Lady? Tell de trufe, I spec's Lady ter twis' up +'er tongue an' talk some day--she work 'er mouf so knowin'! + +Dis heah cotton-seed ought ter be tooken out'n her trough, by rights. Ef +I could feed her on bran an' good warm slops a while, de churn would +purty soon 'spute her rights wid de tukkeys! + +A high-toned cow, proud as Lady is, ought ter reach white-folk's table +somehow-ma-ruther. But you gits dar all the same, don't yer Lady? You +gits dar in tukkey-meat _ef dey don't reco'nize yer_! + +Well! I'm done mixin' now an' I turns my back on de trough--an' advance +ter de bars. Lordy, how purty dem cows does look--wid dat low sun +'g'ins' dey backs! So patient an' yit so onpatient. + +Back, now, till I teck out dese rails! + +Soh, now! Easy, Spot! Easy, Lady! I does love ter let down dese bars wid +de sun in my eyes. I loves it mos' as good as I loves ter milk. + +Down she goes! + +Step up quick, now, Brindle, an' git yo' place. + +Lord have mussy! Des look how Brindle meck way fur Lady! I know'd Lady'd +git dar fust! I know'd it! + +An' dat's huccome I mixed dat feed so purtic'lar. + +I does love Lady! + + + + +A PULPIT ORATOR + + +Old Reub' Tyler, pastor of Mount Zion Chapel, Sugar Hollow Plantation, +was a pulpit orator of no mean parts. Though his education, acquired +during his fifty-ninth, sixtieth, and sixty-first summers, had not +carried him beyond the First Reader class in the local district school, +it had given him a pretty thorough knowledge of the sounds of simple +letter combinations. This, supplemented by a quick intuition and a +correct musical ear, had aided him to really remarkable powers of +interpretation, and there was now, ten years later, no chapter in the +entire Bible which he hesitated to read aloud, such as contained long +strings of impossible names hung upon a chain of "begats" being his +favorite achievements. + +A common tribute paid Reub's pulpit eloquence by reverential listeners +among his flock was, "Brer Tyler is got a black face, but his speech +sho' is white." The truth was that in his humble way Reub' was something +of a philologist. A new word was to him a treasure, so much stock in +trade, and the longer and more formidable the acquisition, the dearer +its possession. + +Reub's unusual vocabulary was largely the result of his intimate +relations with his master, Judge Marshall, whose body-servant he had +been for a number of years. The judge had long been dead now, and the +plantation had descended to his son, the present incumbent. + +Reub' was entirely devoted to the family of his former owners, and +almost any summer evening now he might be seen sitting on the lowest of +the five steps which led to the broad front veranda of the great house +where Mr. John Marshall sat smoking his meerschaum. If Marshall felt +amiably disposed he would often hand the old man a light, or even his +own tobacco-bag, from which Reub' would fill his corn-cob pipe, and the +two would sit and smoke by the hour, talking of the crops, the weather, +politics, religion, anything--as the old man led the way; for these +evening communings were his affairs rather than his "Marse John's." On a +recent occasion, while they sat talking in this way, Marshall was +congratulating him upon his unprecedented success in conducting a +certain revival then in progress, when the old man said: + +"Yassir, de Lord sho' is gimme a rich harves'. But you know some'h'n', +Marse John? All de power o' language th'ough an' by which I am enable +ter seize on de sperit is come to me th'ough ole marster. I done tooken +my pattern f'om him f'om de beginnin,' an' des de way I done heerd him +argify de cases in de co't-house, dat's de way I lay out ter state my +case befo' de Lord. + +"I nuver is preached wid power yit on'y but 'cep' when I sees de sinner +standin' 'fo' de bar o' de Lord, an' de witnesses on de stan', an' de +speckletators pressin' for'ard to heah, an' de jury listenin', an +_me--I'm de prosecutin' 'torney_! + +"An' when I gits dat whole co't-room 'ranged 'fo' my eyes in my min', +an' de pris'ner standin' in de box, I des reg'lar _lay 'im out_! You +see, I knows all de law words ter do it _wid_! I des open fire on 'im, +an' prove 'im a crim'nal, a law-breaker, a vagabone, a murderer in ev'y +degree dey is--fus', secon', _an_' third--a reperbate, an' a blot on de +face o' de yearth, tell dey ain't a chance lef' fur 'im but ter fall on +'is knees an' plead guilty! + +"An' when I got 'im down, _I got 'im whar I want 'im_, an' de work's +half did. Den I shif's roun' an' ac' _pris'ner's 'torney_, an' preach +grace tell I gits 'im shoutin'--des de same as ole marster use ter +do--clair a man whe'r or no, guilty or no guilty, step by step, nuver +stop tell he'd have de last juryman blowin' 'is nose an' snifflin'--an' +he'd do it wid swellin' dic'sh'nary words, too! + +"Dat's de way I works it--fus' argify fur de State, den plead fur de +pris'ner. + +"I tell yer, Marse John," he resumed, after a thoughtful pause, "dey's +one word o' ole marster's--I don'no' huccome it slipped my min', but hit +was a long glorified word, an' I often wishes hit'd come back ter me. Ef +I could ricollec' dat word, hit'd holp me powerful in my preachin'. + +"Wonder ef you wouldn't call out a few dic'sh'nary words fur me, please, +sir? Maybe you mought strike it." + +Without a moment's reflection, Marshall, seizing at random upon the +first word that presented itself, said, "How about _ratiocination_?" + +The old man started as if he were shot. "Dat's hit!" he exclaimed. +"Yassir, dat's hit! How in de kingdom come is you struck it de fust pop? +Rasheoshinatiom! I 'clare! Dat's de ve'y word, sho's you born! Dat's +what I calls a high-tone word; ain't it, now, Marse John?" + +"Yes, Uncle Reub'; ratiocination is a good word in its place." Marshall +was much amused. "I suppose you know what it means?" + +"Nemmine 'bout dat," Reub' protested, grinning all over--"nemmine +'bout dat. I des gwine fetch it in when I needs a thunder-bolt! +Rasheoshinatiom! Dat's a bomb-shell fur de prosecutiom! But I can't git +it off now; I'm too cool. Wait tell I'm standin' in de pulpit on +tip-toes, wid de sweat a-po'in' down de spine o' my back, an' fin' +myse'f _des one argimint short_! Den look out fur de locomotive! + +"Won't yer," he added, after a pause--"won't yer, please, sir, spell dat +word out fur me slow tell I writes it down 'fo' I forgits it?" + + [Illustration: "'WON'T YER, PLEASE, SIR, SPELL DAT WORD OUT FUR ME + SLOW?'"] + +Reaching deep into his trousers pocket, he brought forth a folded scrap +of tobacco-stained paper and a bit of lead-pencil. + +Notwithstanding his fondness for the old man, there was a twinkle in +Marshall's eye as he began to spell for him, letter by letter, the +coveted word of power. + +"R," he began, glancing over the writer's shoulder. + +"R," repeated Reub', laboriously writing. + +"A," continued Marshall. + +"R-a," repeated Reub'. + +"T," said the tutor. + +"R-a-t," drawled the old man, when, suddenly catching the sound of the +combination, he glanced first at the letters and then with quick +suspicion up into Marshall's face. The suppressed smile he detected +there did its work. He felt himself betrayed. + +Springing tremulously from his seat, the very embodiment of abused +confidence and wrath, he exclaimed: + +"Well! Hit's come ter dis, is it? One o' ole marster's chillen settin' +up makin' spote o' me ter my face! I didn't spect it of yer, Marse +John--I did not. It's bad enough when some o' deze heah low-down +po'-white-trash town-boys hollers 'rats' at me--let alone my own white +chillen what I done toted in my arms! Lemme go home an' try ter forgit +dis insult ole marster's chile insulted me wid!" + +It was a moment before Marshall saw where the offence lay, and then, +overcome with the ludicrousness of the situation, he roared with +laughter in spite of himself. + +This removed him beyond the pale of forgiveness, and as Reub' hobbled +off, talking to himself, Marshall felt that present protest was useless. +It was perhaps an hour later when, having deposited a bag of his best +tobacco in his coat pocket, and tucked a dictionary under his arm, +Marshall made his way to the old man's cabin, where, after many +affectionate protestations and much insistence, he finally induced him +to put on his glasses and spell the word from the printed page. + +He was not easily convinced. However, under the force of Marshall's +kindly assurances and the testimony of his own eyes, he finally melted, +and as he set back the candle and removed his glasses, he remarked, in a +tone of the utmost humility, + +"Well--dat's what comes o' nigger educatiom! Des let a nigger git fur +enough along ter spell out c-a-t, cat, an' r-a-t, rat, an' a few Fus' +Reader varmints, an' he's ready ter conterdic' de whole dic'sh'nary. + +"Des gimme dat word a few times _in my ear_ good, please, sir. I +wouldn't dare ter teck it in thoo my eye, 'caze don' keer what you say, +when a word sets out wid r-a-t, I gwine see a open-eyed rat settin' +right at de head of it blinkin' at me ev'y time I looks at it." + + + + +AN EASTER SYMBOL + +A MONOLOGUE OF THE PLANTATION + +_Speaker_: A Black Girl. +_Time_: Easter Morning. + + +"'Scuse me knockin' at yo' do' so early, Miss Bettie, but I'se in +trouble. Don't set up in bed. Jes' lay still an' lemme talk to yer. + +"I come to ax yer to please ma'am loand me a pair o' wings, mistus. +No'm, I ain't crazy. I mean what I say. + +"You see, to-day's Easter Sunday, Miss Bettie, an' we havin' a high time +in our chu'ch. An' I'se gwine sing de special Easter carol, wid Freckled +Frances an' Lame Jane jinin' in de chorus in our choir. Hit's one o' +deze heah visible choirs sot up nex' to de pulpit in front o' de +congergation. + +"Of co'se, me singin' de high solo makes me de principlest figgur, so we +'ranged fur me to stan' in de middle, wid Frances an' Jake on my right +an' lef' sides, an' I got a bran new white tarlton frock wid spangles on +it, an' a Easter lily wreath all ready. Of co'se, me bein' de fust +singer, dat entitles me to wear de highest plumage, an' Frances, she +knows dat, an' she 'lowed to me she was gwine wear dat white nainsook +lawn you gi'n 'er, an' des a plain secondary hat, an' at de p'inted time +we all three got to rise an' courtesy to de congergation, an' den bu'st +into song. Lame Jake gwine wear dat white duck suit o' Marse John's an' +a Easter lily in his button-hole. + +"Well, hit was all fixed dat-a-way, peaceable an' proper, but you know +de trouble is Freckled Frances is jealous-hearted, an' she ain't got no +principle. I tell you, Miss Bettie, when niggers gits white enough to +freckle, you look out for 'em! Dey jes advanced fur enough along to show +white ambition an' nigger principle! An' dat's a dange'ous mixture! + +"An' Frances--? She ain't got no mo' principle 'n a suck-aig dorg! Ever +sence we 'ranged dat Easter programme, she been studyin' up some +owdacious way to outdo me to-day in de face of eve'ybody. + +"But I'm jes one too many fur any yaller freckled-faced nigger. I'm +black--but dey's a heap o' trouble come out o' ink bottles befo' to-day! + +"I done had my eye on Frances! An' fur de las' endurin' week I taken +notice ev'ry time we had a choir practisin', Frances, she'd fetch in +some talk about butterflies bein' a Easter sign o' de resurrection o' de +dead, an' all sech as dat. Well, I know Frances don't keer no mo' 'bout +de resurrection o' de dead 'n nothin'. Frances is too tuck up wid dis +life fur dat! So I watched her. An' las' night I ketched up wid 'er. + +"You know dat grea' big silk paper butterfly dat you had on yo' +_pi_anner lamp, Miss Bettie? She's got it pyerched up on a wire on +top o' dat secondary hat, an' she's a-fixin' it to wear it to church +to-day. But she don't know I know it. You see, she knows I kin sing all +over her, an' dat's huccome she's a-projectin' to ketch de eyes o' de +congergation! + +"But ef you'll he'p me out, Miss Bettie, we'll fix 'er. You know dem +yaller gauzy wings you wo'e in de tableaux? Ef you'll loand 'em to me +an' help me on wid 'em terreckly when I'm dressed, I'll _be_ a _whole +live butterfly_, an' I bet yer when I flutters into dat choir, Freckled +Frances'll feel like snatchin' dat lamp shade off her hat, sho's you +born! An' fur once-t I'm proud I'm so black complected, caze black an' +yaller, dey goes together fur butterflies! + +"Frances 'lowed to kill me out to-day, but I lay when she sets eyes on +de yaller-winged butterfly she'll 'preciate de resurrection o' de dead +ef she never done it befo' in her life." + + + + +CHRISTMAS AT THE TRIMBLES' + + * * * * + +Part I + +_Time_: Daylight, the day before Christmas. +_Place_: Rowton's store, Simpkinsville. + + +_First Monologue, by Mr. Trimble_: + +"Whoa-a-a, there, ck, ck, ck! Back, now, Jinny! Hello, Rowton! Here we +come, Jinny an' me--six miles in the slush up to the hub, an' Jinny with +a unweaned colt at home. Whoa-a-a, there! + +"It's good Christmas don't come but once-t a year--ain't it, Jinny? + +"Well, Rowton, you're what I call a pro-gressive business man, that's +what you are. Blest ef he ain't hired a whole row o' little niggers to +stand out in front of 'is sto'e an' hold horses--while he takes his +customers inside to fleece 'em. + +"Come here, Pop-Eyes, you third feller, an' ketch aholt o' Jinny's +bridle. I always did like pop-eyed niggers. They look so God-forsaken +an' ugly. A feller thet's afflicted with yo' style o' beauty ought to +have favors showed him, an' that's why I intend for you to make the +first extry to-day. The boy thet holds my horse of a Christmus Eve +always earns a dollar. Don't try to open yo' eyes no wider--I mean what +I say. How did Rowton manage to git you fellers up so early, I wonder. +Give out thet he'd hire the first ten that come, did he? An' gives each +feller his dinner an' a hat. + +"I was half afeered you wouldn't be open yet, Rowton--but I was +determined to git ahead o' the Christmus crowd, an' I started by +starlight. I ca'culate to meet 'em all a-goin' back. + +"Well, I vow, ef yo' sto'e don't look purty. Wish _she_ could see it. +She'd have some idee of New York. But, of co'se, I couldn't fetch her +to-day, an' me a-comin' specially to pick out her Christmus gif'. She's +jest like a child. Ef she s'picions befo' hand what she's a-goin' to +git, why, she don't want it. + +"I notice when I set on these soap-boxes, my pockets is jest about even +with yo' cash-drawer, Rowton. Well, that's what we're here for. Fetch +out all yo' purties, now, an' lay 'em along on the counter. You know +_her_, an' she ain't to be fooled in quality. Reckon I _will_ walk +around a little an' see what you've got. I 'ain't got a idee on earth +what to buy, from a broach to a barouche. Let's look over some o' yo' +silver things, Rowton. Josh Porter showed me a butter-dish you sold him +with a silver cow on the led of it, an' I was a-wonderin' ef, maybe, +you didn't have another. + +"That's it. That's a mighty fine idee, a statue like that is. It sort o' +designates a thing. D'rec'ly a person saw the cow, now, he'd s'picion +the butter inside the dish. Of co'se, he'd know they wouldn't hardly be +hay in it--no, ez you say, 'nor a calf.' No doubt wife'll be a-wantin' +one o' these cow-topped ones quick ez she sees Josh's wife's. She'll see +the p'int in a minute--of the cow, I mean. But, of co'se, I wouldn't +think o' gittin' her the same thing Josh's got for Helen, noways. We're +too near neighbors for that. Th' ain't no fun in borryin' duplicates +over a stile when company drops in sudden, without a minute's warnin'. + +"No, you needn't call my attention to that tiltin' ice-pitcher. I seen +it soon ez I approached the case. Didn't you take notice to me a-liftin' +my hat? That was what I was a-bowin' to, that pitcher was. No, that's +the thing wife hankers after, an' I know it, an' it's the one thing I'll +never buy her. Not thet I'd begrudge it to her--but to tell the truth +it'd pleg me to have to live with the thing. I wouldn't mind it on +Sundays or when they was company in the house, but I like to take off my +coat, hot days, an' set around in my shirt-sleeves, an' I doubt ef I'd +have the cheek to do it in the face of sech a thing as that. + +"Fact is, when I come into a room where one of 'em is, I sort o' look +for it to tilt over of its own accord an' bow to me an' ask me to 'be +seated.' + +"You needn't to laugh. Of co'se, they's a reason for it--but it's so. +I'm jest that big of a ninny. Ricollec' Jedge Robinson, he used to have +one of 'em--jest about the size o' this one--two goblets an' a +bowl--an' when I'd go up to the house on a errand for pa, time pa was +distric' coroner, the jedge's mother-in-law, ol' Mis' Meredy, she'd be +settin' in the back room a-sewin,' an' when the black gal would let me +in the front door she'd sort o' whisper: 'Invite him to walk into the +parlor and be seated.' I'd overhear her say it, an' I'd turn into the +parlor, an' first thing I'd see'd be that ice-pitcher. I don't think +anybody can _set down_ good, noways, when they're ast to 'be seated,' +an' when, in addition to that, I'd meet the swingin' ice-pitcher half +way to the patent rocker, I didn't have no mo' consciousness where I +was a-settin' than nothin'. An' like ez not the rocker'd squawk first +strain I put on it. She wasn't no mo'n a sort o' swingin' ice-pitcher +herself, ol' Mis' Meredy wasn't--walkin' round the house weekdays +dressed in black silk, with a lace cap on her head, an' half insultin' +his company thet he'd knowed all his life. I did threaten once-t to +tell her, 'No, thank you, ma'am, I don't keer to be seated--but I'll +_set down_ ef it's agreeable,' but when the time would come I'd turn +round an' there'd be the ice-pitcher. An' after that I couldn't be +expected to do nothin' but back into the parlor over the Brussels +carpet an' chaw my hat-brim. But, of co'se, I was young then. + +"Reckon you've heerd the tale they tell on Aleck Turnbull the day he +went there in the old lady's time. She had him ast into the cushioned +sanctuary--an' Aleck hadn't seen much them days--an' what did he do but +gawk around an' plump hisself down into that gilt-backed rocker with a +tune-playin' seat in it, an', of co'se, quick ez his weight struck it, +it started up a jig tune, an' they say Aleck shot out o' that door like +ez ef he'd been fired out of a cannon. An' he never did go back to say +what he come after. I doubt ef he ever knew. + +"How much did you say for the ice-pitcher, Rowton? Thirty dollars--an' +you'll let me have it for--hush, now, don't say that. I don't see how +you could stand so close to it an' offer to split dollars. Of co'se +I ain't a-buyin' it, but ef I was I wouldn't want no reduction on it, +I'd feel like ez ef it would always know it an' have a sort of contemp' +for me. They's suitableness in all things. Besides, I never want no +reduction on anything I buy for _her_, someways. You can charge me +reg'lar prices an' make it up on the Christmas gif' she buys for +me--that is, ef she buys it from you. Of co'se it'll be charged. +That's a mighty purty coral broach, that grape-bunch one, but she's +so pink-complected, I don't know ez she'd become it. I like this +fish-scale set, myself, but she might be prejerdyced ag'in' the idee +of it. You say she admired that hand-merror, an' this pair o' +side-combs--an' she 'lowed she'd git 'em fur my Christmus gif' ef she +dared? But, of co'se, she was jokin' about that. Poor little thing, she +ain't never got over the way folks run her about that side-saddle she +give me last Christmus, though I never did see anything out o' the way +in it. She knew thet the greatest pleasure o' my life was in makin' her +happy, and she was jest simple-hearted enough to do it--that's all--an' +I can truly say thet I ain't never had mo' pleasure out of a Christmus +gif' in my life than I've had out o' that side-saddle. She's been so +consistent about it--never used it in her life without a-borryin' it of +me, an' she does it so cunnin'. Of co'se I don't never loand it to her +without a kiss. They ain't a cunnin'er play-actor on earth 'n she is, +though she ain't never been to a theatre--an' wouldn't go, bein' too +well raised. + +"You say this pitcher wasn't there when she was here--no, for ef it had +'a' been, I know she'd 'a' took on over it. Th' ain't never been one +for sale in Simpkinsville before. They've been several of 'em brought +here by families besides the one old Mis' Meredy presided over--though +that was one o' the first. But wife is forever a-pickin' out purty +patterns of 'em in the catalogues. Ef that one hadn't 'a' give me such +a setback in my early youth I'd git her this, jest to please her. Ef I +was to buy this one, it an' the plush album would set each other off +lovely. She's a-buyin' _it_ on instalments from the same man thet +enlarged her photograph to a' ile-painted po'trait, an' it's a dandy! +She's got me a-settin' up on the front page, took with my first wife, +which it looks to me thet if she'd do that much to please me, why, I +might buy almost anything to please her, don't it? Of co'se I don't +take no partic'lar pleasure in that photograph--but she seems to think +I might, an' no doubt she's put it there to show thet she ain't +small-minded. You ricollec' Mary Jane was plain-featured, but Kitty +don't seem to mind that ez much ez I do, now thet she's gone an' her +good deeds ain't in sight. I never did see no use in throwin' a +plain-featured woman's looks up to her _post mortem_. + +"This is a mighty purty pitcher, in my judgment, but to tell the truth +I've made so much fun o' the few swingin' pitchers thet's been in this +town that I'd be ashamed to buy it, even ef I could git over my own +obnoxion to it. But of co'se, ez you say, everybody'd know thet I done +it jest to please her--an' I don't know thet they's a more worthy object +in a married man's life than that. + +"I s'pose I'll haf to git it for her. An' I want a bold, outspoke +dedication on it, Rowton. I ain't a-goin' about it shamefaced. Here, +gimme that pencil. Now, I want this inscription on it, word for word. +I've got to stop over at Paul's to git him to regulate my watch, an' +I'll tell him to hurry an' mark it for me, soon ez you send it over. + +"Well, so long. Happy Christmus to you an' yo' folks. + +"Say, Rowton, wrap up that little merror an' them side-combs an' send +'em along, too, please. So long!" + + +Part II + +_Time_: Same morning. +_Plate_: Store in Washington. + +_Second Monologue, by Mrs. Trimble_: + + +"Why, howdy, Mis' Blakes--howdy, Mis' Phemie--howdy, all. Good-mornin', +Mr. Lawson. I see yo' sto'e is fillin' up early. Great minds run in the +same channel, partic'larly on Christmus Eve. + +"My old man started off this mornin' befo' day, an' soon ez he got out +o' sight down the Simpkinsville road, I struck out for Washin'ton, an' +here I am. He thinks I'm home seedin' raisins. He was out by starlight +this mornin' with the big wagon, an', of co'se, I know what that means. +He's gone for my Christmus gif', an' I'm put to it to know what +tremenjus thing he's a-layin' out to fetch me--thet takes a cotton-wagon +to haul it. Of co'se I imagine everything, from a guyaskutus down. I +always did like to git things too big to go in my stockin'. What you +say, Mis' Blakes? Do I hang up my stockin'? Well, I reckon. I hadn't +quit when I got married, an' I think that's a poor time to stop, don't +you? Partic'larly when you marry a man twice-t yo' age, an' can't +convince him thet you're grown, noways. Yas, indeedy, that stockin' goes +up to-night--not mine, neither, but one I borry from Aunt Jane Peters. I +don't wonder y' all laugh. Aunt Jane's foot is a yard long ef it's a' +inch, but I'll find it stuffed to-morrer mornin', even ef the guyaskutus +has to be chained to the mantel. An' it'll take me a good hour to empty +it, for he always puts a lot o' devilment in it, an' I give him a +beatin' over the head every nonsensical thing I find in it. We have a +heap o' fun over it, though. + +"He don't seem to know I'm grown, an' I know I don't know he's old. + +"Listen to me runnin' on, an' you all nearly done yo' shoppin'. Which do +you think would be the nicest to give him, Mr. Lawson--this silver +card-basket, or that Cupid vase, or--? + +"Y' all needn't to wink. I seen you, Mis' Blakes. Ef I was to pick out a +half dozen socks for him like them you're a-buyin' for Mr. Blakes, how +much fun do you suppose we'd have out of it? Not much. I'd jest ez lief +'twasn't Christmus--an' so would he--though they do say his first wife +give him a bolt o' domestic once-t for Christmus, an' made it up into +night-shirts an' things for him du'in' the year. Think of it. No, I'm +a-goin' to git him somethin' thet's got some git-up to it, an'--an' +it'll be either--that--Cupid vase--or--lordy, Mr. Lawson, don't fetch +out that swingin' ice-pitcher. I glimpsed it quick ez I come in the +door, an', says I, 'Get thee behind me, Satan,' an' turned my back on it +immejiate. + +"But of co'se I ca'culated to git you to fetch it out jest for me to +look at, after I'd selected his present. Ain't it a beauty? Seems to me +they couldn't be a more suitable present for a man--ef he didn't hate +'em so. No, Mis' Blakes, it ain't only thet he don't never drink +ice-water. I wouldn't mind a little thing like that. + +"You ricollec' ol' Mis' Meredy, she used to preside over one thet they +had, an' somehow he taken a distaste to her an' to ice-pitchers along +with her, an' he don't never lose a chance to express his disgust. When +them new folks was in town last year projec'in' about the railroad, he +says to me, 'I hope they won't stay, they'd never suit Simpkinsville on +earth. They're the regular swingin' ice-pitcher sort. Git folks like +that in town an' it wouldn't be no time befo' they'd start a-chargin' +pew rent in our churches.' We was both glad when they give out thet they +wasn't a-goin' to build the road. They say railroads is mighty +corrupting an' me, with my sick headaches, an' a' ingine whistle in +town, no indeed! Besides, ef it was to come I know I'd be the first one +run over. It's bad enough to have bulls in our fields without turnin' +steam-ingines loose on us. Jest one look at them cow-ketchers is enough +to frustrate a person till he'd stand stock still an' wait to be run +over--jest like poor crazy Mary done down here to Cedar Springs. + +"They say crazy Mary looked that headlight full in the face, jes' the +same ez a bird looks at a snake, till the thing caught her, an' when the +long freight train had passed over her she didn't have a single remain, +not a one, though I always thought they might've gethered up enough to +give her a funeral. When I die I intend to have a funeral, even if I'm +drownded at sea. They can stand on the sho'e, an' I'll be jest ez likely +to know it ez them thet lay in view lookin' so ca'm. I've done give him +my orders, though they ain't much danger o' me dyin' at sea, not ef we +stay in Simpkinsville. + +"How much are them willer rockers, Mr. Lawson? I declare that one favors +my old man ez it sets there, even without him in it. Nine dollars? +That's a good deal for a pants'-tearin' chair, seems to me, which them +willers are, the last one of 'em, an' I'm a mighty poor hand to darn. +Jest let me lay my stitches in colors, in the shape of a flower, an' I +can darn ez well ez the next one, but I do despise to fill up holes jest +to be a-fillin'. Yes, ez you say, them silver-mounted brier-wood pipes +is mighty purty, but he smokes so much ez it is, I don't know ez I want +to encourage him. Besides, it seems a waste o' money to buy a Christmus +gif' thet a person has to lay aside when company comes in, an' a +silver-mounted pipe ain't no politer to smoke in the presence o' ladies +than a corncob is. An' ez for when we're by ourselves--shucks. + +"Ef you don't mind, Mr. Lawson, I'll stroll around through the sto'e +an' see what you've got while you wait on some o' them thet know their +own minds. I know mine well enough. _What I want_ is _that swingin' +ice-pitcher_, an' my judgment tells me thet they ain't a more suitable +present in yo' sto'e for a settled man thet has built hisself a +residence an' furnished it complete the way _he_ has, but of co'se +'twouldn't never do. I always think how I'd enjoy it when the minister +called. I wonder what Mr. Lawson thinks o' me back here a-talkin' to +myself. I always like to talk about the things I'm buyin'. That's a +mighty fine saddle-blanket, indeed it is. He was talkin' about a new +saddle-blanket the other day. But that's a thing a person could pick up +almost any day, a saddle-blanket is. A' ice-pitcher now-- + +"Say, Mr. Lawson, lemme look at that tiltin'-pitcher again, please, +sir. I jest want to see ef the spout is gold-lined. Yes, so it is--an' +little holes down in the throat of it, too. It cert'n'y is well made, +it cert'n'y is. I s'pose them holes is to strain out grasshoppers or +anything thet might fall into it. That musician thet choked to death at +the barbecue down at Pump Springs last summer might 'a' been livin' yet +ef they'd had sech ez this to pass water in, instid o' that open pail. +_He's_ got a mighty keerless way o' drinkin' out o' open dippers, too. +No tellin' what he'll scoop up some day. They'd be great safety for him +in a pitcher like this--ef I could only make him see it. It would seem +a sort o' awkward thing to pack out to the well every single time, an' +he won't drink no water but what he draws fresh. An' I s'pose it would +look sort o' silly to put it in here jest to drink it out again. + +"Sir? Oh yes, I saw them saddle-bags hang-in' up back there, an' they +are fine, mighty fine, ez you say, an' his are purty near wo'e out, but +lordy, I don't want to buy a Christmus gif' thet's hung up in the +harness-room half the time. What's that you say? Won't you all never +git done a-runnin' me about that side-saddle? You can't pleg me about +that. I got it for his pleasure, ef it was for my use, an', come to +think about it, I'd be jest reversin' the thing on the pitcher. It +would be for his use an' my pleasure. I wish I could see my way to buy +it for him. Both goblets go with it, you say--an' the slop bowl? It +cert'n'y is handsome--it cert'n'y is. An' it's expensive--nobody could +accuse me o' stintin' 'im. Wonder why they didn't put some polar bears +on the goblets, too. They'd 'a' had to be purty small bears, but they +could 'a' been cubs, easy. + +"I don't reely believe, Mr. Lawson, indeed I don't, thet I could find a +mo' suitable present for him ef I took a month, an' I don't keer what +he's a-pickin' out for me this minute, it can't be no handsomer 'n +this. Th' ain't no use--I'll haf to have it--for 'im. Jest charge it, +please, an' now I want it marked. I'll pay cash for the markin', out of +my egg money. An' I want his full name. Have it stamped on the iceberg +right beside the bear. 'Ephraim N. Trimble.' No, you needn't to spell +out the middle name. I should say not. Ef you knew what it was you +wouldn't ask me. Why, it's Nebuchadnezzar. It'd use up the whole +iceberg. Besides, I couldn't never think o' Nebuchadnezzar there an' +not a spear o' grass on the whole lan'scape. You needn't to laugh. I +know it's silly, but I always think o' sech ez that. No, jest write it, +'Ephraim N. Trimble, from his wife, Kitty.' Be sure to put in the +Kitty, so in after years it'll show which wife give it to him. Of +co'se, them thet knew us both would know which one. Mis' Mary Jane +wouldn't never have approved of it in the world. Why, she used to rip +up her old crocheted tidies an' things an' use 'em over in bastin' +thread, so they tell me. She little dremp' who she was a-savin' for, +poor thing. She was buyin' this pitcher then, but she didn't know it. +But I keep a-runnin' on. Go on with the inscription, Mr. Lawson. What +have you got? 'From his wife, Kitty'--what's the matter with +'affectionate wife'? You say affectionate is a purty expensive word? +But 'lovin'' 'll do jest ez well, an' it comes cheaper, you say? An' +plain 'wife' comes cheapest of all? An' I don't know but what it's mo' +suitable, anyhow--at his age. Of co'se, you must put in the date, an' +make the 'Kitty' nice an' fancy, please. Lordy, well, the deed's +done--an' I reckon he'll threaten to divo'ce me when he sees it--till +he reads the inscription. Better put in the 'lovin',' I reckon, an' put +it in capitals--they don't cost no more, do they? Well, goodbye, Mr. +Lawson, I reckon you'll be glad to see me go. I've outstayed every last +one thet was here when I come. Well, good-bye! Have it marked +immediate, please, an' I'll call back in an hour. Good-bye, again!" + + +Part III + +When old man Trimble stood before the fireplace at midnight that night, +stuffing little parcels into the deep, borrowed stocking, he chuckled +noiselessly, and glanced with affection towards the corner of the room +where his young wife lay sleeping. He was a fat old man, and as he stood +with shaking sides in his loose, home-made pajamas, he would have done +credit to a more conscious impersonation of old Santa himself. + +His task finally done, he glanced down at a tall bundle that stood on +the floor almost immediately in front of him, moved back with his hands +resting on his hips, and thoughtfully surveyed it. + +"Well, ef anybody had 'a' told it on me I never would 'a' believed it," +he said, under his breath. "The idee o' me, Ephe Trimble, settin' up +sech a thing ez that in his house--at my time o' life." Then, glancing +towards the sleeper, he added, with a chuckle, "an' ef they'd 'a' +prophesied it I wouldn't 'a' believed sech ez _thet_, neither--at +my time o' life--bless her little curly head." + +He sat down on the floor beside the bundle, clipped the twine, and +cautiously pushed back the wrappings. Then, rising, he carefully set +each piece of the water-set up above the stocking on the mantel. He did +not stop to examine it. He was anxious to get it in place without noise. + +It made a fine show, even in the dim, unsteady light of the single taper +that burned in its tumbler of oil close beside the bed. Indeed, when it +arose in all its splendor, he was very much impressed. + +"A thing like that ought to have a chandelier to set it off right," he +thought--"yas, and she'll have one, too--she'll have anything she +wants--thet I can give her." + +Sleep came slowly to the old man that night, and even long after his +eyes were closed, the silver things seemed arrayed in line upon his +mental retina. And when, after a long while, he fell into a troubled +slumber, it was only to dream. And in his dream old Judge Robinson's +mother-in-law seemed to come and stand before him--black dress, side +curls, and all--and when he looked at her for the first time in his life +unabashed--she began to bow, over and over again, and to say with each +salutation, "Be seated"--"be seated"--"be seated," getting farther and +farther away with each bow until she was a mere speck in the +distance--and then the speck became a spot of white, and he saw that the +old lady had taken on a spout and a handle, and that she was only an +ice-pitcher, tilting, and tilting, and tilting--while from the yellow +spout came a fine metallic voice saying, "Be seated"--"be seated"--again +and again. Then there would be a change. Two ladies would appear +approaching each other and retreating--turning into two ice-pitchers, +tilting to each other, then passing from tilting pitchers to bowing +ladies, until sometimes there seemed almost to be a pitcher and a lady +in view at the same time. When he began to look for them both at once +the dream became tantalizing. Twin ladies and twin pitchers--but never +quite clearly a lady and a pitcher. Even while the vision tormented him +it held him fast--perhaps because he was tired, having lost his first +hours of sleep. + +He was still sleeping soundly, spite of the dissolving views of the +novel panorama, when above the two voices that kept inviting him to "be +seated," there arose, in muffled tones at first, and then with +distressing distinctness, a sound of sobbing. It made the old man turn +on his pillow even while he slept, for it was the voice of a woman, and +he was tender of heart. It seemed in the dream and yet not of it--this +awful, suppressed sobbing that disturbed his slumber, but was not quite +strong enough to break it. But presently, instead of the muffled sob, +there came a cumulative outburst, like that of a too hard-pressed +turkey-gobbler forced to the wall. He thought it was the old black +gobbler at first, and he even said, "Shoo," as he sprang from his bed. +But a repetition of the sound sent him bounding through the open door +into the dining-room, dazed and trembling. + +Seated beside the dining-table there, with her head buried in her arms, +sat his little wife. Before her, ranged in line upon the table, stood +the silver water-set--her present to him. He was beside her in a +moment--leaning over her, his arms about her shoulders. + +"Why, honey," he exclaimed, "what on earth--" + +At this she only cried the louder. There was no further need for +restraint. The old man scratched his head. He was very much distressed. + +"Why, honey," he repeated, "tell its old man all about it. Didn't it +like the purty pitcher thet its old husband bought for it? Was it too +big--or too little--or too heavy for it to tote all the way out here +from that high mantel? Why didn't it wake up its lazy ol' man and make +him pack it out here for it?" + +It was no use. She was crying louder than ever. He did not know what to +do. He began to be cold and he saw that she was shivering. There was no +fire in the dining-room. He must do something. "Tell its old man what it +would 'a' ruther had," he whispered in her ear, "jest tell him, ef it +don't like its pitcher--" + +At this she made several efforts to speak, her voice breaking in real +turkey-gobbler sobs each time, but finally she managed to wail: + +"It ain't m-m-m-mi-i-i-ne!" + +"Not yours! Why, honey. What can she mean? Did it think I bought it for +anybody else? Ain't yours! Well, I like that. Lemme fetch that lamp over +here till you read the writin' on the side of it, an' I'll show you +whose it is." He brought the lamp. + +"Read that, now. Why, honey! Wh--wh--wh--what in thunder an' lightnin'! +They've done gone an' reversed it. The fool's put my name first--' +Ephraim N. Trimble. From--his--' + +"Why, Jerusalem jinger! + +"No wonder she thought I was a low-down dog--to buy sech a thing an' +mark it in my own name--no wonder--here on Christmus, too. The idee o' +Rowton not seein' to it thet it was done right--" + +By this time the little woman had somewhat recovered herself. Still, she +stammered fearfully. + +"R-r-r-owton ain't never s-s-s-saw that pitcher. It come from +L-l-l-awson's, d-d-down at Washin'ton, an' I b-bought it for y-y-y-you!" + +"Why, honey--darlin'--" A sudden light came into the old man's eyes. He +seized the lamp and hurried to the door of the bed-chamber, and looked +in. This was enough. Perhaps it was mean--but he could not help it--he +set the lamp down on the table, dropped into a chair, and fairly howled +with laughter. + +"No wonder I dremp' ol' Mis' Meredy was twins!" he screamed. "Why, +h-h-honey," he was nearly splitting his old sides--"why, honey, I ain't +seen a thing but these two swingin' pitchers all night. They've been +dancin' before me--them an' what seemed like a pair o' ol' Mis' Meredys, +an' between 'em all I ain't slep' a wink." + +"N-n-either have I. An' I dremp' about ol' Mis' M-m-m-eredy, too. I +dremp' she had come to live with us--an' thet y-y-you an' me had moved +into the back o' the house. That's why I got up. I couldn't sleep easy, +an' I thought I might ez well git up an' see wh-wh-what you'd brought +me. But I didn't no mor'n glance at it. But you can't say you didn't +sleep, for you was a-s-s-snorin' when I come out here--" + +"An' so was you, honey, when I 'ranged them things on the mantel. Lemme +go an' git the other set an' compare 'em. That one I picked out is +mighty purty." + +"I'll tell you befo' you fetch 'em thet they're exactly alike"--she +began to cry again--"even to the p-p-polar bear. I saw that at a glance, +an' it makes it s-s-so much more ridic'--" + +"Hush, honey. I'm reely ashamed of you--I reely am. Seems to me ef +they're jest alike, so much the better. What's the matter with havin' a +pair of 'em? We might use one for buttermilk." + +"Th-that would be perfectly ridiculous. A polar bear'd look like a fool +on a buttermilk pitcher. N-n-no, the place for pitchers like them is in +halls, on tables, where anybody comin' in can see 'em an' stop an' git a +drink. They couldn't be nothin' tackier'n pourin' buttermilk out of a' +ice-pitcher." + +"Of co'se, if you say so, we won't--I jest thought maybe--or, I tell you +what we might do. I could easy take out a panel o' banisters out of the +side po'ch, an' put in a pair o' stairsteps, so ez to make a sort o' +side entrance to the house, an' we could set one of 'em in _it_. It +would make the pitcher come a little high, of co'se, but it would set +off that side o' the house lovely, an' ef you say so-- + +"Lemme go git 'em all out here together." + +As he trudged in presently loaded up with the duplicate set he said, "I +wonder ef you know what time it is, wife?" + +She glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the wall. + +"Don't look at that. It's six o'clock last night by that. I forgot to +wind her up. No. It's half-past three o'clock--that's all it is." By +this time he had placed his water-set beside hers upon the table. "Why, +honey," he exclaimed, "where on earth? I don't see a sign of a' +inscription on this--an' what is this paper in the spout? Here, you read +it, wife, I ain't got my specs." + + "'Too busy to mark to-day--send back after Christmas--sorry. + + ROWTON.'" + +"Why, it--an' here's another paper. What can this be, I wonder?" + + "'To my darling wife, from her affectionate husband.'" + +The little wife colored as she read it. + +"Oh, that ain't nothin' but the motter he was to print on it. But ain't +it lucky thet he didn't do it? I'll change it--that's what I'll do--for +anything you say. There, now. Don't that fix it?" + +She was very still for a moment--very thoughtful. "An' affectionate is a +mighty expensive word, too," she said, slowly, glancing over the +intended inscription, in her husband's handwriting. "Yes. Your pitcher +don't stand for a thing but generosity--an' mine don't mean a thing but +selfishness. Yes, take it back, cert'nly, that is ef you'll get me +anything I want for it. Will you?" + +"Shore. They's a cow-topped butter-dish an' no end o' purty little +things out there you might like. An' ef it's goin' back, it better be +a-goin'. I can ride out to town an' back befo' breakfast. Come, kiss me, +wife." + +She threw both arms around her old husband's neck, and kissed him on one +cheek and then on the other. Then she kissed his lips. And then, as she +went for pen and paper, she said: "Hurry, now, an' hitch up, an' I'll be +writin' down what I want in exchange--an' you can put it in yo' pocket." + +In a surprisingly short time the old man was on his way--a heaped basket +beside him, a tiny bit of writing in his pocket. When he had turned into +the road he drew rein for a moment, lit a match, and this is what he +read: + + "MY DEAR HUSBAND,--I want one silver-mounted brier-wood pipe and + a smoking set--a nice lava one--and I want a set of them fine + overhauls like them that Mis Pope give Mr. Pope that time I said + she was too extravagant, and if they's any money left over I want + some nice tobacco, the best. I want all the price of the ice-set + took up even to them affectionate words they never put on. + + "Your affectionate and loving wife, + + "KITTY." + +When Ephraim put the little note back in his pocket, he took out his +handkerchief and wiped his eyes. + +Her good neighbors and friends, even as far as Simpkinsville and +Washington, had their little jokes over Mis' Trimble's giving her +splendor-despising husband a swinging ice-pitcher, but they never knew +of the two early trips of the twin pitcher, nor of the midnight comedy +in the Trimble home. + +But the old man often recalls it, and as he sits in his front hall +smoking his silver-mounted pipe, and shaking its ashes into the lava +bowl that stands beside the ice-pitcher at his elbow, he sometimes +chuckles to himself. + +Noticing his shaking shoulders as he sat thus one day his wife turned +from the window, where she stood watering her geraniums, and said: + +"What on earth are you a-laughin' at, honey?" (She often calls him +"honey" now.) + +"How did you know I was a-laughin'?" He looked over his shoulder at her +as he spoke. + +"Why, I seen yo' shoulders a-shakin'--that's how." And then she added, +with a laugh, "An' now I see yo' reflection in the side o' the +ice-pitcher, with a zig-zag grin on you a mile long--yo' smile just +happened to strike a iceberg." + +He chuckled again. + +"Is that so? Well, the truth is, I'm just sort o' tickled over things in +general, an' I'm a-settin' here gigglin', jest from pure contentment." + + + + +A MINOR CHORD + + +I am an old bachelor, and I live alone in my corner upper room of an +ancient house of _Chambres garnies_, down on the lower edge of the +French quarter of New Orleans. + +When I made my nest here, forty years ago, I felt myself an old man, and +the building was even then a dilapidated old rookery, and since then +we--the house and I--have lapsed physically with the decline of the +neighborhood about us, until now our only claims to gentility are +perhaps our memories and our reserves. + +The habit of introspection formed by so isolated an existence tends to +develop morbid views of life, and throws one out of sympathetic +relations with the world of progress, we are told; but is there not some +compensation for this in the acquisition of finer and more subtle +perception of things hidden from the social, laughing, hurrying world? +So it seems to me, and even though the nicer discernment bring pain, as +it often does--as all refinement must--who would yield it for a grosser +content resulting from a duller vision? + +To contemplate the procession that passes daily beneath my window, with +its ever-shifting pictures of sorrow, of decrepitude ill-matched with +want, new motherhood, and mendicancy, with uplifted eye and palm--to +look down upon all this with only a passing sigh, as my worthy but +material fat landlady does, would imply a spiritual blindness infinitely +worse than the pang which the keener perception induces. + +There are in this neighborhood of moribund pretensions a few special +objects which strike a note of such sadness in my heart that the most +exquisite pain ensues--a pain which seems almost bodily, such as those +for which we take physic; yet I could never confuse it with the +neuralgic dart which it so nearly resembles, so closely does it follow +the sight or sound which I know induces it. + +There is a young lawyer who passes twice a day beneath my window.... I +say he is young, for all the moving world is young to me, at eighty--and +yet he seems old at five-and-forty, for his temples are white. + +I know this man's history. The only son of a proud house, handsome, +gifted--even somewhat of a poet in his youth--he married a soulless +woman, who began the ruin which the wine-cup finished. It is an old +story. In a mad hour he forged another man's name--then, a wanderer on +the face of the earth, he drifted about with never a local habitation or +a name, until his aged father had made good the price of his honor, when +he came home--"tramped home," the world says--and, now, after years of +variable steadiness, he has built upon the wreck of his early life a +sort of questionable confidence which brings him half-averted +recognition; and every day, with the gray always glistening on his +temples and the clear profile of the past outlining itself--though the +high-bred face is low between the shoulders now--he passes beneath my +window with halting step to and from the old courthouse, where, by +virtue of his father's position, he holds a minor office. + +Almost within a stone's throw of my chamber this man and his aged +father--the latter now a hopeless paralytic--live together in the ruins +of their old home. + +Year by year the river, by constant cavings, has swallowed nearly all +its extensive grounds, yet beyond the low-browed Spanish cottage that +clings close within the new levee, "the ghost of a garden" fronts the +river. Here, amid broken marbles--lyreless Apollos, Pegasus bereft of +wings, and prostrate Muses--the hardier roses, golden-rod, and +honeysuckle run riot within the old levee, between the comings of the +waters that at intervals steal in and threaten to swallow all at a gulp. + +The naked old house, grotesquely guarded by the stately skeleton of a +moss-grown oak, is thus bereft, by the river in front and the public +road at its back, of all but the bare fact of survival. + +No visitor ever enters here; but in the summer evenings two old men may +be seen creeping with difficult steps from its low portal up to the brow +of the bank, where they sit in silence and watch the boats go by. + +The picture is not devoid of pathos, and even the common people whisper +together as they look upon the figures of father and son sitting in the +moonlight; and no one likes to pass the door at night, for there are +grewsome tales of ghosts afloat, in which decapitated statues are said +to stalk about the old garden at nightfall. + +A sigh always escapes me as I look upon this desolate scene; but it is +not now, but when the old-young man, the son, passes my door each day, +carrying in his pale hands a bunch of flowers which he keeps upon his +desk in the little back office, that my mysterious pain possesses me. + +Why does this hope-forsaken man carry a bunch of flowers? Is it the +surviving poet within him that finds companionship in them, or does he +seem to see in their pure hearts, as in a mirror, a reflection of his +own sinless youth? + +These questions I cannot answer; but every day, as he passes with the +flowers, I follow him with fascinated eye until he is quite lost in the +distance, my heart rent the while with this incisive pain. + +Finally, he is lost to view. The dart passes through and out my breast, +and, as I turn, my eye falls upon a pretty rose-garden across the way, +where live a mother and her two daughters. + + * * * * + +Seventeen years ago this woman's husband--the father--went away and +never returned. The daughters are grown, and they are poor. The elder +performs some clerical work up in Canal Street, and I love to watch her +trig little figure come and go--early and late. + +The younger, who is fairer, has a lover, and the two sit together on a +little wrought-iron bench, or gather roses from the box-bordered beds in +the small inland garden, which lies behind the moss-grown wall and +battened gate; and sometimes the mother comes out and smiles upon the +pair. + +The mother is a gentlewoman, and though she wears a steel thimble with +an open top, like a tailor's, and her finger is pricked with the needle, +she walks and smiles, even waters her roses, with a lady's grace; but it +seems to me that the pretty pink daughter's lover is less a gentleman +than this girl's lover should be--less than her grandfather must have +been when he courted her grandmother in this same rose-garden--less than +this maid's lover would be if her father had not gone to India, and her +mother did not sew seams for a living. + +As I sit and watch this peaceful fragment of a family, my heart seems to +find repose in its apparent content; but late at night, when the lover +has gone and the mother and daughters are asleep, when I rise to close +my shutters I perceive, between the parted curtains in the mother's +window, a light dimly burning. When I see this beacon in the deserted +wife's chamber, and remember that I have seen it burning there, like the +faint but steadfast hope that refuses to be extinguished, for seventeen +years, the pain of pains comes into my heart. + + * * * * + +There is a little old man with a hump upon his shoulder who passes often +in the crowd, and a sight of him always awakens this pain within me. + +It is not the tragedy of senility which his extreme age pictures, nor +yet the hump upon his back, which stirs my note of pain. + +Years ago this man left his wife, for a price, to another who had +betrayed her, and disappeared from the scene of his ignominy. When the +woman was dead and her betrayer gone, the husband came back, an old man; +and now, as I see him bending beneath its weight, the hump upon his +shoulder seems to be labelled with this price which, in my imagination, +though originally the bag of gold, has by a slow and chemically +unexplained process of ossification, become a part of himself, and will +grotesquely deform his skeleton a hundred years to come. When, morning +and evening, I see this old man trudge laboriously, staggering always +towards the left, down the street, until he disappears in the clump of +willows that overshadow the cemetery gate, and I know that he is going +for a lonely vigil to the grave of the dishonored woman, his lost wife, +pain, keen as a Damascus blade, enters my heart. + + * * * * + +I close my window and come in, for the night dews are falling and I am +rheumatic and stiff in the legs. + +So, every night, musing, I go early to my bed, but before I lie down, +after my prayer is said, I rise to put fresh water in the vase of +flowers, which are always fresh, beneath the picture upon my wall. + +For one moment I stand and gaze into a pure, girlish face, with a pallid +brow and far-away blue eyes. + +She was only fifteen years old, and I twice as many, when we quarrelled +like foolish children. + +The day she married my brother--my youngest, best-beloved brother +Benjamin--I laid this miniature, face downward, in a secret drawer of my +desk. + +In the first year she died, and in another Benjamin had taken to himself +a new wife, with merrier eyes and ruddier lips. + +My heart leaped within me when I kissed my new sister, but she knew not +that my joy was because she was giving me back my love. + +Trembling with ecstasy, I took this image from its hiding-place, and for +nearly fifty years the flowers beneath it have not withered. + +As I stood alone here one night, ere I knew he had entered, my little +brother's hand was upon my shoulder. For a moment only he was silent, +awe-stricken. + +"She was always yours, my brother," he said, presently, in a tremulous +whisper. "I did not know until it was too late. She had +misunderstood--but God was very merciful," and turning he left her to +me. + +And still each day I lay fresh flowers at her shrine, cherishing the +dart that rends my heart the while, for its testimony to the immortality +of my passion. + +Do you smile because a trembling old man feasts his failing eyes on a +fair woman's face and prates of love and flowers and beauty? Smile if +you will, but if you do it is because you, being of the earth, cannot +understand. + +These things are of the spirit; and palsy and rheumatism and waning +strength are of the flesh, which profiteth nothing. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Moriah's Mourning and Other Half-Hour +Sketches, by Ruth McEnery Stuart + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORIAH'S MOURNING AND OTHER *** + +***** This file should be named 20438.txt or 20438.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/4/3/20438/ + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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