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diff --git a/22673-h/22673-h.htm b/22673-h/22673-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b4e1aef --- /dev/null +++ b/22673-h/22673-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5613 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Plantation Sketches, by Margaret Devereux. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + a {text-decoration: none;} + + img {border: none;} + + em {font-style: italic;} + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; padding: 1em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: .2em; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + .tdli {text-align: left; vertical-align: bottom; font-style: italic;} /* left align italic cell */ + .tdr {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} /* right align cell */ + + .sig {text-align: right; margin-right: 10em; font-variant: small-caps;} /* signatures */ + .addressl {margin-left: 4em; margin-bottom: 0em; font-variant: small-caps;} /* left aligned address */ + .addressr {text-align: right; margin-right: 10em; font-variant: small-caps;} /* right aligned address */ + .date {margin-left: 8em; margin-top: 0em;} /* date line */ + +span.dropcap {display: none;} /* this goes around the first letter of the first word */ + +/* You need a unique span like this for each of your drop cap images */ +span.dropcapil { float: left; + height: 100px; width: 102px; /* adjust for your image */ + margin: 0 1em 1em 0; + background: url("images/ps_il.png") no-repeat top left; + } +span.dropcapir { float: left; + height: 100px; width: 102px; /* adjust for your image */ + margin: 0 1em 1em 0; + background: url("images/ps_ir.png") no-repeat top left; + } +span.dropcaps { float: left; + height: 100px; width: 100px; /* adjust for your image */ + margin: 0 1em 1em 0; + background: url("images/ps_s.png") no-repeat top left; + } +span.dropcapt { float: left; + height: 100px; width: 100px; /* adjust for your image */ + margin: 0 1em 1em 0; + background: url("images/ps_t.png") no-repeat top left; + } + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Plantation Sketches, by Margaret Devereux + +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: Plantation Sketches + +Author: Margaret Devereux + +Release Date: September 19, 2007 [EBook #22673] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLANTATION SKETCHES *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +made from images produced by the North Carolina History +and Fiction Digital Library.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 438px;"> +<img src="images/ps01.jpg" width="438" height="600" +alt="Cover of Plantation Sketches" /> +</div> + + + +<h1 style="padding-top: 3em;">PLANTATION SKETCHES</h1> + +<p class="center" style="padding-top: 3em;">BY</p> + +<h2 style="padding-top: 3em; padding-bottom: 3em;">MARGARET DEVEREUX</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 111px;"> +<img src="images/ps02.png" width="111" height="200" alt="" /> +</div> + + +<p class="center" style="padding-top: 5em;">PRIVATELY PRINTED AT<br /> +The Riverside Press, Cambridge<br /> +MDCCCCVI</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 424px;"> +<img src="images/ps03.jpg" width="424" height="560" +alt="Portrait of Mammy" /> +<span class="caption"><a href="#Page_119">MAMMY</a></span> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="center" style="padding-top: 3em; padding-bottom: 3em;">COPYRIGHT 1906 BY MARGARET DEVEREUX<br /> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> +<h2>EDITOR’S PREFACE</h2> + + +<p>The descriptions of Southern life in this +little book, as well as the accompanying +stories, were written by Mrs. Devereux +during the past fifteen years, in large part +after she had passed her sixty-fifth year. +They are essentially reminiscent, and were +prepared originally with no thought of +publication, but merely to be read to her +grandchildren, so that there might be preserved +in their minds some conception of +the old-time lives of their grandparents. +The sketches thus came to be read by me +to my own children, who are of the third +generation. They brought to my mind so +simply, yet so vividly and in so attractive a +manner, a picture of the old plantation life, +they showed such remarkable memory of +interesting details, that they seemed to me +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> +to merit publication. The charm of the +descriptions will impress all readers, and +the truthfulness of the illustrations of negro +character and habits will be recognized by +all who are familiar with the South. The +sketches are simple, homely little tales prepared +for children, and they must be read +with this fact in mind; but they have +nevertheless an interest and a lesson for +maturer readers, to whom they are now +offered.</p> + +<p class="sig">Arthur Winslow</p> + +<p class="addressl">18 Chestnut St., Boston, Mass.</p> +<p class="date">April 27, 1906</p> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="60%" summary="Table of Contents"> + <tr> + <td class="tdli">Letter to my Grandchildren</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_ix">ix</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdli">Plantation Life</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdli">Going to the Plantation</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdli">My Own Early Home</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdli">Two Bob Whites</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdli">Little Dave</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdli">The Hog-Feeder’s Day</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdli">The Junior Reserve</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdli">Mammy</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdli">War Reminiscences</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p> +<h2>TO MY GRANDCHILDREN</h2> + + +<p>As the “New South,” with all its changes and +improvements, rises above the horizon, those +whose hearts still cling to the “Old South” look +sadly backward and sigh to see it fade away into +dimness, to be soon lost to sight and to live only +in the memory of the few. Hoping to rescue +from oblivion a few of the habits, thoughts, and +feelings of the people who made our South what +it was, I have drawn from memory a few pen +sketches of plantation life, based upon actual +events, in which are recorded some of the good +and even noble traits of character which were +brought forth under the yoke of slavery.</p> + +<p>For you, my dear grandchildren, I have tried +to fix, before they fade entirely, these already +faint reflections from the “light of other days.”</p> + +<p class="sig">Margaret Devereux.</p> + +<p class="addressl">Raleigh, North Carolina.</p> +<p class="date">December, 1905.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2>PLANTATION LIFE</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapil"><span class="dropcap">I</span></span> am going to try to describe to +you something of the lives and +homes of your dear grandfather +and of your great-grandfather, +because I want you to know something of +them, because their mode of life was one +of which scarcely a vestige is left now, and +because, finally, I don’t want you to be led +into the misconception held by some that +Southern planters and slaveholders were +cruel despots, and that the life of the negro +slaves on the plantation was one of misery +and sorrow.</p> + +<p>Before I enter upon my brief narrative I +want you to realize that it is all strictly true, +being based upon my knowledge of facts; +very simple and homely in its details, but +with the merit of entire truthfulness.</p> + +<p>Your great-grandfather, Thomas Pollock +Devereux, and your grandfather, John +Devereux, were planters upon an unusually +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +large scale in North Carolina; together +they owned eight large plantations and between +fifteen and sixteen hundred negroes. +Their lands, situated in the rich river bottoms +of Halifax and Bertie counties, were +very fertile, the sale crops being corn, cotton, +and droves of hogs, which were sent to +Southampton county, Virginia, for sale.</p> + +<p>The names of your great-grandfather’s +plantations were Conacanarra, Feltons, +Looking Glass, Montrose, Polenta, and +Barrows, besides a large body of land in +the counties of Jones and Hyde. His residence +was at Conacanarra, where the dwelling +stood upon a bluff commanding a fine +view of the Roanoke river, and, with the +pretty house of the head overseer, the small +church, and other minor buildings, looked +like a small village beneath the great elms +and oaks.</p> + +<p>Your grandfather’s principal plantation, +and our winter home, was Runiroi, in +Bertie county. The others were “The +Lower Plantation” and “Over the Swamp.” +At Runiroi we lived and called ourselves +at home, and of it I have preserved the clearest +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +recollection and the fondest memories.</p> + +<p>From Kehukee bluff, which we usually +visited while waiting for the ferryman on +our return journey after the summer’s absence, +the plantation could be seen stretching +away into the distance, hemmed in by +the flat-topped cypresses. From there we +had a view of our distant dwelling, gleaming +white in the sunlight and standing in a +green oasis of trees and grass, all looking +wonderfully small amid the expanse of flat +fields around it. Apart as I now am from +the restless, never-ending push of life, when +neither men nor women have time for leisure, +when even pleasure and amusement +are reduced to a business calculation as to +how much may be squeezed into a given +time, I think it might perhaps calm down +some of the nervous restlessness that I perceive +in my dear children and grandchildren +if they could, for once, stand there in +the soft November sunshine. The splendor +of the light is veiled in a golden haze, the +brown fields bask in the soft radiance and +seem to quiver in the heat, while the ceaseless +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +murmur of the great river is like a +cradle song to a sleepy child; the rattle of +the old ferryman’s chain and the drowsy +squeak of his long sweeps seem even to +augment the stillness. The trees along the +banks appear to lack the energy to hang +out the brilliant reds and purples of autumn, +but tint their leaves with the soft shades of +palest yellow, and these keep dropping and +floating away, while the long gray moss +waves dreamily in the stillness.</p> + +<p>The house at Runiroi was a comfortable, +old, rambling structure, in a green yard and +flower garden, not ugly, but quite innocent +of any pretensions at comeliness. Neither +was there, to many, a bit of picturesque +beauty in the flat surroundings; and yet +this very flatness <em>did</em> lend a charm peculiar +to itself. My eyes ever found a delight in +its purple distances and in the great, broad-armed +trees marking the graceful curves of +the river. The approach from the public +road, which followed the bank of the river, +was through the “willow lane,” between +deep-cut ditches, which kept the roadway +well drained unless the river overspread +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +its banks, when the lane was often impassable +for days. In the springtime, when the +tender green boughs of the willows were +swayed by the breeze, it was a lovely spot, +and a favorite resort of the children.</p> + +<p>I was so young a bride, only seventeen, +when I was taken to our winter home, and +so inexperienced, that I felt no dread whatever +of my new duties as mistress. The +household comforts of my childhood’s home +had seemed to come so spontaneously that +I never thought of <em>processes</em>, and naturally +felt rather nonplussed when brought into +contact with realities. The place had for +years been merely a sort of camping-out +place for your great-grandfather, who liked +to spend a part of the winter there; so the +house was given over to servants who made +him comfortable, but who took little heed of +anything else.</p> + +<p>I recollect my antipathy to a certain old +press which stood in the back hall. The +upper part was filled with books. In the +under cupboard, Minerva kept pies, gingerbread, +plates of butter, etc. The outside +looked very dim and dusty. I could not +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +bear to look at it, but knew not how to +remedy its defects. I know now that it was +a handsome old piece, which a furniture-lover +would delight in. However, my youthful +appetite did not scorn Minerva’s gingerbread, +and, as I had many lonely hours to +get through with as best I could, I would +mount the highest chair that I could find, +and ransack the old musty volumes in +search of amusement. The collection consisted +chiefly of antiquated medical works, +some tracts, etc., but once, to my delight, I +unearthed two of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels, +which were indeed a treasure trove; one of +them was “Gaston de Blondeville,” which I +thought beautiful. I have regretted that I +did not take care of it, for I have never seen +another copy.</p> + +<p>Minerva was a woman of pretty good +sense, but of slatternly habits. She had +been so long without a lady to guide her +that her original training was either forgotten +or entirely disregarded. Once, when +starting to Conacanarra for Christmas, I +charged her to take advantage of the fine +weather to give the passage floors a thorough +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +scrubbing; they were bare and showed every +footprint of black mud from the outside. +When it came time to return, in spite of our +pleasant Christmas week, we were glad to +think of our own home and were rather +dismayed when the morning fixed for our +departure broke dark and very cold, with +little spits of snow beginning to fall. I was +much afraid that we should be compelled +to yield to the hospitable objections to our +going, but at last we succeeded in getting +off. We crossed at Pollock’s (your great-grandfather’s +ferry), so that should the storm +increase we need not leave our comfortable +carriage until we should be at home. It +was a lonely drive; the snow fell steadily +but so gently that I enjoyed seeing the +earth and the trees, the fences and the few +lonely houses that we passed all draped in +white; though we were warmly wrapped, +the anticipation of the crackling fires in our +great old fireplaces was delightful. When +we got home, the first sound that greeted +our ears, as we stepped upon the piazza, +was a mournful, long-drawn hymn. Shivering +and damp from our walk up the yard, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +we opened the door, to see Minerva, with +kilted skirts, standing in an expanse of +frozen slush and singing at the top of her +voice, while she sluiced fresh deluges of +water from her shuck brush. I was too +disgusted for words, but resolved that this +should not occur again. As soon as I could +communicate with the outside world I had +the hall floors covered with oilcloth (then +the fashionable covering). Also, Minerva +was displaced, and Phyllis reigned in her +stead, but Minerva, nevertheless, always indulged +in the belief that she was indispensable +to our happiness and comfort.</p> + +<p>In honor of my advent as mistress, the +floors had been freshly carpeted with very +pretty bright carpets, which were in danger +of being utterly ruined by the muddy shoes +of the raw plantation servants, recently +brought in to be trained for the house. +Although the soil generally was a soft, +sandy loam, I observed in my horseback +rides numbers of round stones scattered +about in the fields. They were curious +stones, and looked perfectly accidental and +quite out of place. Their presence excited +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +my interest, and aroused my curiosity as +to their origin, which has never been gratified. +They seemed so out of place in those +flat fields! However, I determined to utilize +them and had a number collected and +brought into the yard, and with them I had +a pretty paved walk made from the house +to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Our house stood upon what was known +as the “Second Land,” which meant a +slight rise above the wide, low grounds, +which were formerly, I believe, the bed of +the sluggish stream now known as the +Roanoke. All along the edge of these Second +Lands, just where they joined the low +grounds, there was a bed of beautiful small +gravel. I was delighted when I discovered +this and at once interested myself in having +a gravel walk made up to the front of the +house, and this was, when completed, all +that I had hoped, and served as a perfect +protection against the offending mud.</p> + +<p>There was one evil, though, which I +could not guard against, and this was the +clumsy though well-meaning stupidity of a +plantation negro. One afternoon the house +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +became offensive with the odor of burning +wool. I followed up the scent and, after +opening several doors, I finally traced it to +the dining-room. It was filled with smoke, +and there, in front of an enormous fire, +squatted Abby. In a fit of most unaccountable +industry she had undertaken to clean +the brass andirons, and had drawn them red +hot from the fire and placed them upon the +carpet. Of course, four great holes were the +result and, as the carpets had been made in +New York, there were no pieces with which +the holes could be mended. As I had already +decided her to be too stupid to be +worth the trouble of training, I felt no desire +to find fault with her, so I merely told +her to put them back, or rather stood by to +see it done. I did not keep her in the house +after that, but do not suppose that she ever +at all realized the mischief that she had +done.</p> + +<p>One of my amusements was to watch the +birds; they were so numerous, and appeared +to be so tame. I set traps for them. This +was childish, but I was very young and +often rather at a loss to find something to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +do; so I used to take with me my small +house boy, “Minor,” whom I was training +to be a grand butler; he would carry the +trap and, after it had been set and baited, I +would make him guide me to the trees where +the sweetest persimmons grew; there I +would while away the morning and on the +next we would find one or more birds fluttering +in the trap, which, to Minor’s silent +disgust, I would set free.</p> + +<p>The squirrels, too, were a pleasure to me +in my horseback rides toward Vine Ridge, +especially. Your grandfather and I would +pause to watch them playing hide and seek +just like children, scampering round and +round, their pretty gray tails waving, until +some noise would send them out of sight, +and the silent forest would seem as if no +living thing were near. It was upon one of +these rides that your grandfather told me +how, when he was about twelve years old, +and spending his Christmas holidays at +Runiroi with his grandfather, he once said +that he could shoot one hundred squirrels +between sunrise and sunset. His uncle, +George Pollock Devereux, happened to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +hear him and rebuked him sharply for so +idle a boast, and when your dear grandfather +manfully stood his ground, saying +that it was not an idle boast, his uncle called +him a vain braggart, which so offended +your grandfather that he told his uncle that +he would prove the truth of his assertion. +And so, upon the following morning, he rose +early and was at Vine Ridge gun in hand, +ready to make his first shot, as soon as the +sun should appear. The squirrels were very +numerous at first, and he made great havoc +among them. Many a mile he tramped that +day, scanning with eager eyes the trees +above him, in search of the little gray noses, +hidden behind the branches, and thus it +happened that he got many a fall and tumble +among the cypress knees; but what +did that matter to his young limbs? he had +only to pick himself up again and tramp on. +As the day advanced, fewer little bright +eyes peeped from the tree-tops and his +number was not made up; he was getting +tired too, and very hungry, for he had eaten +nothing since his early breakfast. He stumbled +wearily on, however, determined not +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +to fail, for he dreaded his uncle’s triumphant +sarcasm should he do so. A few more shots +brought his number to ninety-nine, but +where was the one-hundredth to be found? +The sun was sinking to the horizon; he had +come out from the swamp and was tramping +homeward; the gun, so light in the +morning, now weighed like lead upon his +shoulder. As he looked into every tree for +that hundredth squirrel which could not be +found, the sun’s disk was resting upon the +horizon when he turned into the willow +lane leading to the house. Just at the entrance +there stood a great chestnut oak. +This was his last chance. He paused to +take one hopeless look, when, to his unspeakable +joy, he beheld a fox squirrel seated +up among the branches. Now he knew that +the fox squirrel was the slyest, as well as the +shyest of all his kind; no creature so expert +as he in slipping out of range; there would +be no chance for a second shot, for now only +a rim of the sun was left. With a wildly beating +heart he raised his gun, took time to aim +well,—fired,—and down came his hundredth +squirrel. His wager was won; fatigue +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +and hunger all gone, he hastened gayly home +and with pride emptied his bag before his +uncle and his delighted old grandfather, who +loved him above everything, and who finally +made him his heir, so that your grandfather +was quite independent of his own father.</p> + +<p>When I first became acquainted with the +plantation, the sale crop was taken down to +Plymouth in a great old scow, but this was +afterward superseded by the introduction of +freight steamers, which took the produce +direct to Norfolk. These steamers proved +to be a great comfort and convenience to +us. By them we might receive anything +that we desired from Norfolk, of which +the things most enjoyed were packages of +books,—Vickry and Griffiths, booksellers, +having standing orders to send at their discretion +what they thought desirable, besides +the special orders for what we wished to +see.</p> + +<p>The advent of a steamer at the landing +would cause much pleasurable excitement. +If anything of special interest was expected, +the first puff of steam from down the river +would be eagerly examined through the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +spy-glass. Then would follow several days of +busy life down at the different barns from +which the corn was to be shipped. Before +the introduction of the corn-sheller, the corn +was beaten from the cob by men wielding +great sticks, or flails; others raked the grain +into an immense pile; from this pile it was +measured by select hands and put into bags, +which were carried to the steamer lying +at the landing. The men who measured +and kept the tally maintained a constant +song or chant, and designated the <i>tally</i>, or +fifth bushel, by a sort of yell. The overseer +stood by with pencil and book and scored +down each tally by a peculiar mark. The +constant stream of men running back and +forth, with bags empty or full, made a very +busy scene.</p> + +<p>After the corn had been shipped, the +boat had steamed down the river, and the +place, lately so full of busy life, had returned +to its accustomed quiet seclusion, the redbirds +came to peck up the corn left upon +the ground. I remember how once, upon a +cold, gray afternoon, I put on my wraps and +ran down to the Sycamore Barn, on purpose +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +to watch the shy, beautiful things. Snowflakes +were beginning to fall and whisper +about the great bamboo vines; twisted +around the trees upon the river banks, the +long gray moss hung motionless and a +thick grayness seemed to shut out the whole +world; all about me was gray,—earth, sky, +trees, barn, everything, except the redbirds +and the red berries of a great holly tree +under whose shelter I stood, listening to +the whispering snowflakes.</p> + +<p>The Sycamore Barn derived its name from +a great sycamore tree near which it stood. +This tree was by far the largest that I ever +saw; a wagon with a four-horse team might +be on one side, and quite concealed from +any one standing upon the other. When +I knew it, it was a ruin, the great trunk +a mere shell, though the two giant forks,—themselves +immense in girth—still had +life in them. In one side of the trunk was +an opening, about as large as an ordinary +door; through this we used to enter, and I +have danced a quadrille of eight within +with perfect ease.</p> + +<p>This tree gave its name to the field in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +which it grew, which formed part of the +tract known as the Silver Wedge. It was +about the Silver Wedge that an acrimonious +lawsuit was carried on during the +lives of your great-great-grandparents, John +and Frances Devereux. She was a Pollock, +and the dispute arose through a Mr. Williams, +the son or grandson of a certain +Widow Pollock, who had, after the death of +her first husband, Major Pollock, married a +Mr. Williams. She may possibly have dowered +in this Silver Wedge tract. At any rate, +her Williams descendants set up a claim to it, +although it was in possession of the real Pollock +descendant, Frances Devereux. It was +a large body of very rich land, and intersected +the plantation in the form of a wedge, +beginning near the Sycamore Barn, and running +up far into the Second Lands, widening +and embracing the dwelling-house and +plantation buildings. I have heard your +great-great-grandfather laugh and tell how +Williams once came to the house, and, with +a sweeping bow and great assumption +of courtesy, made your great-great-grandmother +welcome to remain in <em>his</em> house. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +After the suit had been settled, Williams +had occasion to come again to the house, +feeling, no doubt, rather crestfallen. Mrs. +Devereux met him at the door and, making +him a sweeping curtsy, quoted his exact +words, making him welcome to <em>her</em> house.</p> + +<p>One of my pleasant memories is connected +with our fishing porch. This was a +porch, or balcony, built upon piles driven +into the river upon one side, and the other +resting upon the banks. It was raised some +eight or ten feet above the water and protected +by a strong railing or balustrade and +shaded by the overhanging branches of a +large and beautiful hackberry tree. It made +an ideal lounging-place, upon a soft spring +afternoon, when all the river banks were a +mass of tender green, and the soft cooing of +doves filled the air. We usually took Minor +with us to bait our hooks and assist generally, +and often went home by starlight with +a glorious string of fish.</p> + +<p>The drawback to the plantations upon +the lower Roanoke lay in their liability to +being flooded by the freshets to which the +Roanoke was exposed. These were +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +especially to be dreaded in early spring, when +the snow in the mountains was melting. I +have known freshets in March to inundate +the country for miles. At one time there +was not a foot of dry land upon one of the +Runiroi plantations. It was upon a mild +night in that month that I sat upon the porch +nearly all through the night, feeling too +anxious to sleep, for your grandfather, the +overseer, and every man on the plantation +were at the river, working upon the embankments. +The back waters from the +swamp had already spread over everything. +This gentle and slow submersion did no +great damage, when there was no growing +crop to be injured; the thing to be guarded +against was the breaking of the river dam +and the consequent rushing in of such a +flood as would wash the land into enormous +holes, or “breakovers,” of several acres in +extent in some places, or make great sand +ledges in others, to say nothing of the destruction +of fences, the drowning of stock, +etc. On the night that I speak of, the moon +was at its full and glittered upon the water, +rippling all around where dry land should +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +have been. I sat listening anxiously and +occasionally shuddering at a sharp cracking +noise, like a pistol shot, and, following upon +it, the rushing of water into some plantation +up the river. Once in the night I heard a +noise and, upon my calling to know who it +was, a man replied that they had come up in +a canoe to get some water. I could not help +laughing; it struck me that water was rather +too plentiful just then. They worked upon +the dam until there was no more material +to work with, water being level with the top +on both sides and only a foot of standing-room +at the top, so, having done all that +they could, all hands took to canoes and +went to their homes. That “March freshet” +did incalculable damage to the whole region, +but still fine crops were made that season. +Your grandfather was indefatigable while +anything could be done, but, having done +all that human energy could, he would resign +himself cheerfully to the inevitable, and +his family never were saddened by depression +on his part. This wonderful elasticity +was most noticeable at the fearful period of +the surrender and, indeed, through all the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +succeeding years, when this power of his, +despite all of our losses and anxieties, made +our life one of great happiness.</p> + +<p>When, during the winter months, a moderate +freshet meant nothing more serious +than the flooding of the low grounds, it was +considered rather a benefit, owing to the +rich deposit left upon the land, besides the +advantages gained in floating out lumber +from the swamps. This March freshet +caused great pecuniary loss; new dams had +to be constructed at a heavy expense, and +many miles of repairing had to be done to +those left standing. The few days before +the water had reached its height were most +trying to the nerves (that is, my nerves). I +believe my fears culminated upon the night +that I saw the water rippling over our own +doorstep and realized that there was not a +foot of dry land visible for miles; by morning, +though, the river was “at a stand,” and +by evening little spots of green were showing +themselves in the yard and garden.</p> + +<p>The word garden recalls to my memory +our pretty garden, a most beautiful continuation +of the smooth green yard, its many +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +alleys bordered with flowers and flowering +shrubs. It was, I own, laid out in a stiff, +old-fashioned manner, very different from +the present and far more picturesque style; +still, it was charming,—the profusion of +flowers, fed by that wonderful river loam, +exceeded anything that I have ever seen +elsewhere. In the springtime, what with +the flowers, the beautiful butterflies, and the +humming-birds, the sunny air would actually +seem to quiver with color and life.</p> + +<p>Every plantation had a set of buildings +which included generally the overseer’s +house, ginhouse, screw, barn, stable, porkhouse, +smokehouse, storehouse, carpenter’s +shop, blacksmith shop, and loomhouse, +where the material for clothing for each +plantation was woven,—white cloth for +the underclothes, and very pretty striped or +checked for outer garments. At Runiroi, +the weaver, Scip, was a first-class workman, +and very proud of his work. I often had +sets of very pretty towels woven in a damask +pattern of mixed flax and cotton. The winter +clothing was of wool, taken from our +own sheep.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +The carpenters at Runiroi were Jim, the +head carpenter, Austin, and Bill, who were +all good workmen. Frank, “Boat Frank,” +as he was called, from having formerly +served as captain of the old flat-bottomed +scow which carried the sale crop to Plymouth, +was also in the shop and did beautiful +work. I was fond of visiting Jim’s shop +and ordering all sorts of wooden ware, pails, +piggins, trays, etc.; these last, dug out of +bowl-gum, were so white that they looked +like ivory. Boat Frank was very proud of +the smoothness and polish of his trays. Our +children, with their mammy, were fond of +visiting “Uncle Jim’s” shop and playing +with such tools as he considered safe for +them to handle, while Mammy, seated upon +a box by the small fire, would indulge in +long talks about religion or plantation gossip. +That shop was indeed a typical spot; +its sides were lined to the eaves with choice +lumber, arranged systematically so that the +green was out of reach, while that which +was seasoned was close at hand. Uncle +Jim would have felt disgraced had a piece +of work made of unseasoned wood left his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +shop. The smoke from the small fire which +burned in the middle of the big shop, upon +the dirt floor, escaped in faint blue wreaths +through the roof, leaving behind it a sweet, +pungent odor. The sun streamed in at the +wide-open door, while Jim and Frank tinkered +away leisurely upon plough handles +and other implements or household articles.</p> + +<p>Uncle Jim was a preacher as well as a +carpenter. He was quite superior to most +of his race, both in sense and principle +and was highly thought of by both white and +black. Upon two Sundays in each month +he preached in the church and his sermons +were quite remarkable, teaching in +his homely way the necessity of honesty +and obedience. His companion in the shop, +Boat Frank, was of a more worldly nature, +and wore great golden hoops in his ears +and a red woolen cap upon his head, and +resembled an elderly and crafty ape, as he +sat chipping away at his work.</p> + +<p>Next came the blacksmith shop, where +Bob wielded the great hammer and grinned +with childish delight at seeing the children’s +enjoyment when the sparks flew.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +After the blacksmith’s shop came the +loomhouse, where Scip, the little fat weaver, +threw the shuttles and beat up the homespun +cloth from morning till night; there, +too, were the warping-bars, the winding-blades, +and the little quilling-wheel, at which +a boy or girl would fill the quills to be in +readiness for the shuttles. Scip was an odd +figure, with his short legs, and his woolly +hair combed out until his head looked as +big as a bushel.</p> + +<p>The dwellings of the negroes were quite +a distance from the “Great House,” as that +of the master was called, and were built in +two or more long rows with a street between. +This was the plan upon every plantation. +Each house had a front and back piazza, +and a garden, which was cultivated or +allowed to run wild according to the thrift +of the residents. It generally was stocked +with peach and apple trees, and presented +a pretty picture in spring, when the blue +smoke from the houses curled up to the sky +amid the pink blossoms, while the drowsy +hum of a spinning-wheel seemed to enhance +the quiet of the peaceful surroundings.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +The church at Runiroi was large and +comfortably furnished with seats; colored +texts were upon the walls, and the bell, +which summoned the people on Sunday +mornings, swung amid the branches of a +giant oak. Both your great-grandfather +and grandfather employed a chaplain. At +Runiroi, he officiated only upon alternate +Sundays, as the people liked best to listen +to Carpenter Jim. It used to be a pretty +sight upon a Sunday morning to see the +people, all dressed in their clean homespun +clothes, trooping to church, laughing and +chattering until they reached the door, when +they immediately would assume the deepest +gravity and proceed at once to groan +and shake themselves more and more at +every prayer. The singing would often +sound very sweet at a distance, although +I must confess that I never sympathized in +the admiration of the negro’s voice.</p> + +<p>Of course, like all other laboring classes, +the negroes had to work, and of course, as +they had not the incentive of poverty, discipline +was necessary. They knew that +they would be housed, clothed and well fed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +whether they earned these comforts or not; +so, in order to insure diligence, reliable men +were chosen from among them as assistants +to the white overseers; these were called +“foremen,” and were looked up to with +respect by their fellows. Upon every large +plantation there was also a Foreman +Plower, his business being to take the +lead and see that the plowing was well +done and that the plow horses were not +maltreated. With the settled men this was +unnecessary, but it was very needful with +the younger hands. These colored foremen +were, in their turn, subject to the overseers, +who, in turn, if not found to be temperate +and reliable, were dismissed. Upon well-ordered +plantations punishments were rare, +I may say unknown, except to the half-grown +youths. Negroes, being somewhat lacking +in moral sense or fixed principles, are singularly +open to the influence of example; and +thus it was that a few well-ordered elders +would give a tone to the whole plantation, +while the evil influences of one ill-disposed +character would be equally pronounced.</p> + +<p>The plantations of which I am speaking +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +were singularly remote, being so surrounded +by other large plantations that they were +exempt from all outside and pernicious influences. +The one or two country stores +at which the negroes traded might have +furnished whiskey, had not those who kept +them stood too much in awe of the planters +to incur the risk of their displeasure. +As the town of Halifax could boast of several +little stores, and was the trading post +of Feltons, Conacanara, and Montrose, your +great-grandfather, in order to prevent the +evils of promiscuous trading, caused certain +coins to be struck off, of no value except to +the one merchant with whom his people +were allowed to trade.</p> + +<p>Perhaps you will be surprised to know +how important to the country merchants +was the trade of a plantation, so I will explain +to you of what it consisted. Of course, +a few of the careless, content with the abundance +provided for them, did not care to +accumulate, while others, naturally thrifty, +amassed a good deal from the sale of otter, +coon, mink, and other skins of animals +trapped. Then, some owned as many as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +thirty beehives. One old woman, known +as “Honey Beck,” once hauled thirty or +more gallons of honey to Halifax and back +again, the whole distance (twenty-five miles), +rather than take a low price for it. Besides +skins, honey, and beeswax, eggs and poultry +were always salable. One of my necessities +in housekeeping was a bag of small +change, and, as I never refused to take what +was brought to me, my pantry was often so +overstocked with eggs and my coops with +ducks and chickens, that it was a hard matter +to know how to consume them.</p> + +<p>The beautiful white shad, now so highly +prized in our markets, were then a drug. +It was the prettiest sight in the early dawn +of a spring morning to see the fishermen +skimming down the broad river with their +dip-nets poised for a catch. My opportunities +for seeing them at that early hour were +from my bedroom window, when I happened +to be visiting the family at Conacanara. +Our home at Runiroi stood some distance +from the river, but the dwelling at +Conacanara was upon a bluff just over the +stream.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +Beside the sale crops of cotton and corn, +sweet potatoes were raised in large quantities +for the negroes, to which they were allowed +to help themselves without stint, also +a summer patch of coarse vegetables such +as they liked.</p> + +<p>The regular food furnished consisted of +corn meal, bacon or pickled pork, varied +with beef in the autumn, when the beeves +were fat, salt fish with less meat when desired, +molasses, dried peas and pumpkins +without stint (I mean the peas and pumpkins). +I don’t suppose any laboring class +ever lived in such plenty.</p> + +<p>A woman with a family of children always +had the use of a cow, the only proviso +being that she should look after the calf +and see that it did not suffer, for your +grandfather was particular about his ox +teams; they were the finest that I ever saw, +and were well blooded,—Holstein for size +and Devon for speed and activity.</p> + +<p>Our dairy was very pretty; it was built of +immense square logs, with a paved brick +floor, and great broad shelves all around. +The roof was shaded by hackberry trees, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +and the grass around it was like velvet, so +thick and green. Old Aunt Betty, who was +the dairy woman until she grew too infirm, +was the neatest creature imaginable; she +wore the highest of turbans, and her clothes +were spotless. She took the greatest pride +in her dairy; for milk vessels she used great +calibashes with wooden covers, and, as they +naturally were absorbent, it was necessary +to sun one set while another was in use. +She kept them beautifully, and the milk +and butter were delicious.</p> + +<p>There was a man upon the plantation +called “Shoe Joe,” or “Gentleman Joe.” He +had, when a young man, been body-servant +to his young master George, your great-grandfather’s +brother. I never in my life +have seen finer manners than Joe’s, so +deeply respectful, and so full of courtesy. +Notwithstanding his really fine deportment, +Joe’s nature was low and mean, and something +that he did so offended his young +master that, to Joe’s great disgust, he was +remanded back to the plantation and field +work. In consequence of this, he always bore +his young master a grudge, which, of course, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +he kept to himself. Once, however, he made +some disrespectful speech before old Betty, +who was devoted to her Master George, and +this so offended her that she never again +spoke to Joe, nor allowed him to make her +shoes, though this last was more from fear +than vindictiveness. For Shoe Joe was suspected +of being a trick negro, and of possessing +the power so to trick his work as +to cause the death of any one wearing his +products. Nothing was productive of more +evil upon a plantation than was the existence +upon it of a “Trick” or “Goomer” +negro; and so insidious was their influence, +and so secret their machinations, that, +though suspected, it was impossible to prove +anything, for, although detested by their +fellows, fear kept the latter silent. Nothing +would cause such abject terror as the discovery +of an odd-looking bundle, wrapped +and wrapped with strands of horse-hair, +secreted beneath the steps, or laid in an +accustomed path. Instantly after such a +discovery the person for whom it was meant +would begin to pine away, and, unless some +counter spell were discovered, death would +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +ensue. These occurrences, fortunately, were +rare, but if the thing once took root upon +a plantation, it wrought much evil in various +ways. Joe was suspected of these evil +practices, and, though a wonderfully capable +man at all kinds of work, and a most +accomplished courtier, was always looked +upon with suspicion. His death was sudden, +and the people firmly believed that he +had made a compact with the devil, that the +term had expired, and that Satan had met +him in the woods and broken his neck. He +was a tall, finely formed man, as black as +ebony, and his movements always reminded +me of a serpent.</p> + +<p>Negroes, even in these days of school +education, retain many of their superstitions, +though ashamed to own it. One of their +beliefs was that the word <em>you</em> meant the +devil’s wife, and it was insulting to address +any one by that word. To one another it +was always <i>yinna</i>. So marked was this +custom that the negroes of that section were +known as the yinna negroes. This word, +though, was never used toward their superiors, +who were invariably addressed in the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +third person. Manuel was rather a common +name among them; there were always two +or three Manuels upon every plantation, and +one was always called “Hoodie Manuel.” +No one could ever discover what this meant; +perhaps they did not know themselves, +though I am rather inclined to think that +it was a superstitious observance, understood, +perhaps, only by a select few. I think +it must have had some sort of significance, +as it was never omitted. As soon as one +Hoodie Manuel died, another Manuel assumed +the title, though not always the +oldest.</p> + +<p>It was not required of a woman with a +large family to do field work. Such women +had their regular tasks of spinning allotted +to them, sufficiently light to allow ample +time to take care of their houses and children. +The younger women (unless delicate) +left their children in a day nursery in charge +of an elderly woman who was caretaker. +Usually they preferred field work, as being +more lively; but if one disliked it, she usually +soon contrived to be classed among the +spinners.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +When, occasionally, I happened to go to +any of the houses, often quite unexpectedly, +I can assert truthfully that I never, in a +single instance, saw dirt or squalor in one +of them. The floors were clean, the beds +comfortable, with white and wonderfully +clean blankets. Everything, though very +homely, with clumsy benches and tables, +looked white and thoroughly clean. I remember +hearing your grandfather speak of +once going at breakfast time to a house to +visit a sick child. The man of the house +was seated at a small table while his wife +served him. The table was covered with +an immaculately clean homespun cloth, and +coffee, in a tin pot shining with scrubbing, +either sugar or molasses, I forget which, a +dish of beautifully fried bacon and hoe-cakes, +fresh from the fire, constituted his plain but +most abundant meal.</p> + +<p>Separation of families has ever been a favorite +plea for the abolition of slavery, and I +admit that in theory it was a plausible argument; +and justice compels me to say that +such instances, though rare, were not unknown. +As a rule, however, family ties were +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +respected, and when, through the settlement +of an estate, such separations seemed impending, +they were usually prevented by +some agreement between the parties; for instance, +if a negro man had married a woman +belonging to another planter, a compromise +was generally effected by the purchase of +one of the parties, regardless of self-interest +on the part of the owners. Thus families +were kept together without regard to +any pecuniary loss. Public sentiment was +against the severing of family ties.</p> + +<p>Before I close this little sketch I will +tell you as well as I can the outline of plantation +work.</p> + +<p>With the beginning of a new year, the +crop being all housed, the sale corn being +stored in large barns or cribs on the river +banks, and the cotton either being sold or +kept for better prices, the plowing, ditching, +and, when the swamps were full, the floating +out of timber, were all carried on with +great diligence. At Christmas, when all the +clothing, shoes, and Kilmarnock caps had +been given out to the ditchers, high waterproof +boots were distributed. It was the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +custom to allow to every man who desired +it a bit of land, upon which, in his spare +time, to cultivate a small crop, for which he +was paid the market price. Christmas was +the usual day chosen for settling these +accounts, and the broad piazza was full +of happy, grinning black faces gathered +around the table at which the master sat, +with his account-book and bags of specie. +A deep obeisance and a scrape of the foot +accompanied each payment, and many a +giggle was given to the lazy one whose +small payment testified to his indolence. +What a contrast between those happy, +sleek, laughing faces and the sullen, careworn, +ill-fed ones of now! In the early +springtime, what was known as the “trash-gang,” +that is, boys and girls who had never +worked, were set to clearing up fences, +knocking down cotton stalks, and burning +small trash piles.</p> + +<p>I pause here to say that, the woodlands +being a long distance from the quarters, +the supply of fuel was a serious question, +and when there was a threat of snow or +increasing cold, every man would be +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +employed in cutting or hauling a supply of +fuel to the houses.</p> + +<p>Planting time began with the middle of +March. In August the crops were “laid +by.” The three days’ holiday began with +the slaughter of pigs and beeves, in preparation +for the annual dinner upon every +plantation. After holiday came the fodder-pulling, +a job hated by all, especially by overseer +and master, as the drenching dews and +the hot sun combined to make much sickness. +This work was never begun until late +in the morning, but even after the sun had +shone upon the fields, the people would be +drenched in dew to their waists. Next, the +whitening fields told that cotton-picking +must begin, and, later on, a killing frost +upon the already browning shucks sent the +great wagons to the fields, where the corn-gatherers, +with sharp needles tied to their +wrists, ripped open the tough shucks and +let loose the well-hardened ears of grain. +As each field became stripped, stock would +be turned in to feast upon the peas and +pumpkins.</p> + +<p>With winter came that period of bliss to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +the soul of Cuffee, namely, the hog-killing, +when even the smallest urchin might revel +in grease and fresh meat.</p> + +<p>If eyesight permitted, I might tell you +some tales of plantation doings which might +perhaps amuse you, but I have said enough +to give you some idea of the old Southern +life. All that I have said is within bounds, +but, after all, I fear I have not been able to +give you an adequate idea of the peacefulness +and abundance of life upon a great +plantation.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> +<h2>GOING TO THE PLANTATION</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcaps"><span class="dropcap">S</span></span>ummer is over; the nights +grow chill, and the autumnal +tints, beginning to glow upon +the hillsides, tell the low-country +folk that the time draws near for the +yearly flitting to their plantation homes. +The planter, who passes the hot season +amid the breezy uplands, begins to think +of his whitening cotton fields, and grows +impatient for the frost, which must fall ere +the family may venture into the land of +swamps and agues. He looks out upon the +flower-beds, glowing with life and quivering +in the sunshine, and listens to the incessant +shrill-voiced cicada piping from the tree-tops, +while the insect-drone, in the heated, +languid air, seems to speak of an unending +summer; but as “all things come to him +who waits,” so at length come the frosts to +the planter.</p> + +<p>The week preceding the departure is a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +busy one, embracing, along with the numberless +good-byes, many important afterthoughts +in the way of providing the +necessities required in the isolated home, +where shops are unknown. At length, +however, the great boxes are closed, and +stand ready for the daylight start of the +wagon; the bird-cage, the basket of kittens, +and the puppy are also committed by the +children to “Ung Jack,” the teamster, who, +with the broadest of smiles, promises “little +missis” and the “little masters” to take +the best of care of them.</p> + +<p>Giving the baggage a day’s start, the +family’s departure takes place on the day +following. After an early breakfast, Mammy +and the younger children bundle into the +big carriage, mother and the rest of the +little mob follow in the <i>barouche</i>, while papa, +who abhors the confinement of a carriage, +follows on horseback. Although the animal +which he bestrides is a noble specimen +of his kind, still it must be confessed that +papa does not present a jaunty appearance +as he jogs soberly along; and yet, as he sits +easily swaying in the saddle, there is about +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +him a careless grace which marks the natural +horseman.</p> + +<p>Three days are consumed upon the journey. +It might be made in less time; but the +party prefer to take it easily, and at midday +make a halt by a running stream, where, +seated upon a fallen log or mossy bank, +they open their well-stored baskets, and +dine. The horses utter impatient whinnies +as their drivers dip their buckets into the +sparkling water of the little stream, and, +when these are lifted to their heads, thirstily +thrust their muzzles into the cool depths, +and drink long and deeply of the refreshing +draughts.</p> + +<p>At sunset, the tired little ones begin to +look out for the white chimneys of old +John Tayler’s wayside inn, where they are +to pass the night. This house has, for generations, +been the halting-place for planters’ +families. Tayler’s grandfather and his +father have entertained bygone generations; +and so it is not strange that when the little +cortège draw up before the old piazza, and +the red light from the pine blaze streams +out from the open door, not only old John, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +but his wife and two elderly daughters +stand with beaming faces to give the travelers +a hearty greeting, kindly to usher them +into the carpetless room and seat them +upon the stiff “split-bottomed” chairs. +While the women busy themselves in +getting supper, old John talks crops and +politics to his guests, who, on their part, +calmly accept the discomforts of the little +inn as one of the unalterable laws of nature, +without any idea of the possibility of improvement, +swallow without complaint the +nauseous coffee, and rest philosophically +under the home-made sheets and blankets, +feebly wondering that so much weight +should contain so little warmth.</p> + +<p>When supper is over, the women throw +a fresh torch upon the fire, and, as it +crackles up the wide chimney, and sends +its red light and sweet odors over the room, +they set themselves to their tasks of picking +the seeds from the “raw cotton,” for, being +famous spinners and weavers, they disdain +that which has had its staples torn by the +teeth of the gin.</p> + +<p>Upon the second day, the party leave +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +the hills, now gorgeous in their autumnal +brilliancy, the rocky roads, and the swiftly +running streams of the up-country, and +enter the lonely region where the great +turpentine trees rear their lofty crests, and +interminable sandy roads stretch away into +dimness between columns of stately pines +whose lofty tops make solemn music to the +sighing wind.</p> + +<p>The third day finds them in “The +Slashes,” a desolate region inhabited by +squatters. As they jolt over corduroy roads +between pools of stagnant waters, the travelers +look out wearily upon a sparse growth +of gallberry and scrub-pine. Now and then +they pass the solitary hut of a charcoal-burner, +surrounded by its little patch of +meagre corn; a pack of cur dogs rush out +and bark fiercely, within the safe limits of +the wattle fence surrounding the premises; +white-headed children gaze from the doorways +at the passing carriages.</p> + +<p>At the last settlement which they pass, +a woman and a small, pale-faced boy are +gathering in their corn crop. They are the +wife and son of Bolin Brazle, an idle but +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +good-natured vagabond, who spends his +days scraping upon his fiddle up at the store, +or occasionally, upon the promise of a drink, +lending a hand in rafting tar-barrels. In +consequence of the presentation of a worn-out +mule, Bolin swears by the planter, +wants to run him for the presidency, and +obstinately refuses to receive pay for his +charcoal. The matter is finally arranged by +a barrel of corn being sent as a present +whenever a load of charcoal is needed.</p> + +<p>Soon after leaving the “Slashes,” a huddle +of houses standing irregularly in a grove +of magnificent oaks comes into view. In +passing the one which does double duty as +store and post-office, the travellers look at +it with the realization that it is the connecting +link with the outside world, as from +it the bi-weekly mail is dispensed. Inside, +some one (Brazle, no doubt) is scraping +a lively jig upon his fiddle; on the long +piazza men, lounging in chairs tilted against +the wall, take off their hats to the carriages +as they roll by. The planter draws his rein +for a little friendly greeting, and the men, +squirting tobacco juice, stand around and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +lazily report the country-side news as to +the opening of the cotton, the state of the +river, etc. Even the screech of the fiddle +has died away.</p> + +<p>The long descents of the ferry hill commence, +and the carriages roll pleasantly between +deeply wooded banks. The approach +to the river is marked by long rows of tar-barrels +awaiting shipment, or rather rafting. +From this point the road has become a sort +of concrete from years of leakage from the +tar-barrels. The children shriek with joy +as the carriages come to a stop, and, craning +their heads out, they behold the great +tawny river in all its majesty. The repeated +hallooings for the ferryman are at length +responded to from far upstream. The old +scamp is off fishing, and the party seek +the shade, where a spring of clear water +bubbles from a bank. While the children +are drinking copious draughts, the parents +stroll off and take a woodland path, which, +after many a twist and turn amid thickets +of sweet myrtle and purple-berried Bermuda +Shrub, brings them to the summit of “The +Bluff.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +Standing there, they look down upon the +river, two hundred feet below. Upon the +further side lie fields, all brown and golden +in the sunshine, level and limitless; they +stretch into the purple dimness where +cypress trees loom upon the horizon, their +flat tops mingling dreamily with the soft +autumnal hazes. Far away, amid the sun-bathed +fields, stand the trees which shelter +the plantation home, whose chimneys and +white gables are scarce visible save where a +stray sunbeam falls upon them.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“So to the Jews fair Canaan stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While Jordan rolled between,”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>murmured the mother, as she glanced at +her husband, to whom she knew the lands +spread before them were, by inheritance +and long association, far dearer than could +be measured by the mere money value.</p> + +<p>Descending again to the ferry, they find +the carriage already in the flat, and the +children scarce restrained by Mammy from +crossing without their elders. They draw +deep breaths of delight as they watch old +Bartley, with active limp, loosen the chain, +and, planting his iron-shod pole deep into +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +the grating sands, send the flat upstream; +then, at a given point, they watch with +intense admiration his skill in taking the +sweeps and shooting swiftly to the other +side.</p> + +<p>The horses know that they are near home, +and prick up their ears, and go briskly onward. +Scarcely a quarter of a mile is gone +before the buildings of the “lower plantation” +come into view,—a row of cabins +built irregularly upon the highest points +straggle along the river banks. Each cabin +has its little garden with its row of coleworts +and its beehives, or perhaps a pumpkin or +two shows its yellow sides amid the withered +vines. Outside the cabins, fish-nets are +hung to dry, and from within comes the +sleepy drone of a spinning-wheel; about +the doorstep hens are scratching, while +from around the corner a cluster of little +woolly heads peep out shyly.</p> + +<p>Standing in the mellow sunlight, amid +fields of ripening corn, with the river gently +flowing between levees of such strength +as to set floods at defiance, these cabins +seem the very embodiment of peaceful +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +security; the high piles, though, upon which +they stand, are rather suggestive, and give +a hint of what the now peacefully flowing +stream is capable of when roused.</p> + +<p>A story is told of an old negro who +obstinately refused to leave his house at a +time when the unusually high water made +it necessary to remove the people to a place +of greater security. The rafts were ready, +and the people, scared and anxious, had left +their houses, and now only wailed for old +Todge, who, with mulish persistence, refused +to be moved. At length, unable to +persuade him, and afraid to wait longer, +they poled the rafts away. For the first +few hours Todge got on very well. He had +plenty of provisions, and, as for the isolation, +he did not care for it. By and by the +water began to make its appearance upon +his hearth, and, before long, his little bank +of coal, upon which his bread was baking, +began to sizzle, and soon became a moist +and blackened heap. Todge, however, was +not imaginative, and when night fell, he lay +down upon his bed and slept without fear; +that is, he slept until his bed began to float, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +then he awoke and groped his way neck +deep in water until he found his ladder and +managed by it to climb up into his loft, +where he sat shivering, till suddenly he +felt the cabin give a lurch, and the water +rushed in. It had been lifted clear off the +piles, and when it should settle down poor +Todge would be caught like a rat in a hole. +It was settling fast, and the water was gurgling +into poor Todge’s ears, when, in desperation, +he made a bolt at the roof, and, +using his head as a battering ram, succeeded +in knocking a hole in it, through which he +contrived to creep out. Luckily, the point +of the chimney was not quite submerged, +and Todge was rescued in the course of +the following day.</p> + +<p>The road, following the winding of the +river, is bordered by giant trees from whose +branches the gray moss waves dreamily, +while leaves of palest yellow drop and +silently float through the still air until they +fall into the stream. In the fields, the corn-gatherers +pause to doff their hats and smile +their welcome. Ere long the barns and +workshops of the upper plantation become +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +visible. The tall gables and chimneys of +the great house glisten in the sunlight. +They pass the little church, with its bell +half hidden amid the brown leaves of the +great oak from which it dangles; from +cabin chimneys, half hidden in trees, thin +columns of smoke ascend and mingle with +the soft blue sky.</p> + +<p>At the open gate, a broadly smiling +dusky group stands with welcome depicted +upon every face. Hearty handshakes of +real affection are exchanged, while the +children are being hugged, caressed, +laughed over, and extolled for their growth +and beauty. The master and mistress pass +under the trees, whose long shadows rest +upon the soft, green grass between streams +of sunshine. The old piazza, gilded into +brightness, smiles a welcome home.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> +<h2>MY OWN EARLY HOME</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapil"><span class="dropcap">I</span></span> was born at the old home in +Raleigh, upon the land originally +held by my great-grandfather, +Colonel Lane, from the +Crown. It had been the home of my grandfather, +Harry Lane, and of his wife, Mary, +and it was there that their children and +grandchildren were born. When my oldest +brother attained his majority, he took possession +of this place, while my mother settled +at Wills Forest, which was also part of +the Lane land. This, Wills Forest, became +our beloved summer home, which I inherited +at the death of my dear mother. +At the breaking out of the war between +the states, your grandfather left to his +subordinates his plantation interests in the +eastern part of the state, and Wills Forest +became our permanent home. Although +you never saw this place in its palmy days, +still, you are too well acquainted with its +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +situation to need a description. In spite of +neglect, Wills Forest is still beautiful; to +it my heart is ever turning with regret and +longing for that which can never return. +It was for many years the brightest and +happiest of homes, and as such it is still +remembered by many besides its former +inmates.</p> + +<p>Hospitality has ever been a marked +characteristic of the Lane blood. Colonel +Lane’s doors were ever open, not only to his +friends, but to every wayfarer, and as the +small settlement, originally called Bloomsbury, +became Raleigh, and the state capital, +he found it necessary to build an “ornery” +for the accommodation of strangers; this +building stood upon Hillsborough Street, +and was torn down only a short time ago. +These “orneries” were a very common adjunct +to gentlemen’s residences in country +neighborhoods, where there were no inns +for the accommodation of travelers. We +once stopped at one belonging to the Littles, +near Littleton. It was kept by two servants, +a man and his wife, belonging to the family, +and they made us very comfortable.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +My grandfather, Harry Lane, inherited +his father’s liberal and open-hearted nature, +and the old home, even since the death of +my brother, still maintains its character for +genial hospitality. Nor was Wills Forest +inferior to it in that respect. My mother, +accustomed from earliest youth to lavish +housekeeping, kept it up after her removal +to Wills Forest, and, so long as her health +permitted, ever took delight in making her +home all that a kindly, open-handed hospitality +could. Nor do I think its character +deteriorated after your grandfather became +its master. Both he and I were fond of +society, and few strangers ever came to +town who were not entertained at Wills +Forest. This could not be possible now, +but previous to the war it was not at all +impossible, and, during the war, at times, we +received whole families of refugees. I do +not mention these facts in a boastful spirit, +but only as a sample of the old customs of +the South.</p> + +<p>During the winter of 1865, we had the +pleasure of entertaining the family of Colonel +Norris of Baltimore, and early in March +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +we had an unexpected visit from a large +party of South Carolinians, who had been +wounded in an attack made by General Kilpatrick +upon Gen. Joseph E. Johnston’s +command at Fayetteville. Your grandfather +met them in the street seeking for shelter; +and, compassionating their forlorn condition, +he directed them to Wills Forest. +When we first caught sight of the cortège +surrounding two ambulances, we were +alarmed, thinking that it must be the +Yankees coming to deprive us of house +and home. You may, perhaps, imagine the +relief when I saw the dear Confederate gray. +I met the cavalcade at the front steps, and +bade them welcome; the wounded were +brought in and laid upon beds in the nursery, +after which I directed one of our men, +Frank, the carriage-driver, I think it was, to +conduct the horsemen to the stable, to give +the horses a plentiful feed, and then to bring +the men up to the house to get their dinners. +In ordinary times, this unlooked-for addition +of more than twenty guests would, no doubt, +have been an unwelcome tax, but in those +days preceding the sad termination of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +war there were so many poor, half-starved +stragglers from the different commands +passing to and fro, that we were never unprepared +to feed as many as called upon us. +At this time, two cooks were kept continually +at work in the kitchen preparing such +plain food as we could command: such as +boiled hams, biscuit, loaf bread, corn bread, +and wheat coffee. The milk and butter, all +that we had, were joyfully given to our soldiers. +The gray jacket was, indeed, a passport +to every Southern heart. I have fed +many a poor, footsore “boy in gray,” but +never in a single instance heard a despondent +word from one of them. Most grateful +they were for their good, abundant meals, +but often too modest to carry any away in +their haversacks.</p> + +<p>In times of peace, both before and after +the war, the social life at the table, with +family and always welcome friends, was a +source of much pleasure. For a dinner of +ten or twelve persons, including ourselves, +there would be a ham at the head, a large +roast turkey at the foot, a quarter of boiled +mutton, a round of beef <i>à la mode</i>, and a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +boiled turkey stuffed with oysters. In the +middle of the table would be celery in tall +cut-glass stands, on the sides cranberries in +moulds and various kinds of pickles. With +these would be served either four or six +dishes of vegetables and scalloped oysters, +handed hot from the plate-warmer. The +dessert would be a plum pudding, clear +stewed apples with cream, with a waiter in +the centre filled with calf’s-foot jelly, syllabub +in glasses, and cocoanut or cheesecake +puddings at the corners. The first +cloth was removed with the meats. For +a larger entertainment a roast pig would +be added, ice-cream would take the place +of stewed apples. The dessert cloth would +be removed with the dessert, and the decanters +and fruit set upon the bare mahogany, +with the decanters in coasters; cigars +would follow, after the ladies had left, of +course.</p> + +<p>At the time of the surrender, General Logan +borrowed, or asked to borrow, my tables +and cut-glass tumblers and wine-glasses; as +such a request meant an order, I, of course, +allowed them to be taken; to my surprise all +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +were returned. Generals Grant and Sherman +were entertained by Logan at this time, +the tables being set before his tent in the +grove.</p> + +<p>When my two little girls went to day +school at St. Mary’s, their dinners were sent +to them by a negro boy or man. He carried +the basket of hot dinner, while another carried +the ice for their water, while another +often walked behind bearing a large watermelon. +As the other day-pupils dined in a +similar way, the road at this time of day +would be full of negroes carrying dinners.</p> + +<p>Since these bygone days, knowledge has +increased, and men go to and fro with ease +between the far corners of the earth; but I +do not think that either virtue or happiness +has kept pace with this increase of knowledge, +nor has there ever been or will there +ever be again such a country as the Old +South, nor a people so good, so brave, or so +true-hearted as the dear, primitive people of +that good old time.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> +<h2>TWO BOB WHITES</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>wo Bob Whites were standing +beneath the old thorn-bush at +the far end of the orchard; indeed, +they had been standing +there for some time, with their heads held +close, just as though they were talking together. +In fact, that is just what they were +doing. They were talking about the nest +that they were going to build. And it was +high time, for already there was a nice little +brood in that nest beyond the brook. But +our Bob Whites were a prudent couple; +they did not approve of those early broods +which came off barely in time to miss the +chilly May rains. But the May spell was +over now, the sun shone hot upon the waving +wheat, and over the fence, there in the +old field, the dewberries were ripe. Already +the little boys who live in the house over +yonder had been after the berries, regardless +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +of briers and bare feet. Yes, it was +high time that nest was built; but, somehow, +they could not fix upon an altogether +suitable location. True, the old thorn-bush, +with its wide-spreading branches, was most +attractive; but there the cart tracks ran +too close by. As they stood thus in the +clover, all undecided, they were startled by +a loud cry from Robin Redbreast, whose +nest was high up in that apple tree. Turning +to ascertain the cause of the outcry, +they espied a great, evil-looking, yellow cat, +creeping through the long grass. This decided +them, and without waiting another +moment, they abandoned the thorn-bush +and flew away to seek a safer abode. This +they finally found over toward the wheat +field, far away from cats and all the nuisances +which attend the abodes of men.</p> + +<p>The nest was built back of the old gray, +lichen-covered fence, just above the brook +where the hazels and alders grow. All +around was a blackberry thicket, and a +great tussock of brown sedges sheltered +the nest like a roof. Just beyond the fence +was the wheat field. No one ever came +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +there, excepting that now and then on a +Saturday the little boys who lived over +yonder would pass by with their fishing-poles, +jump the fence, and disappear in the +hazel thickets. The Bob Whites didn’t +mind the boys, unless Nip happened to be +along, nosing about in search of some mischief +to get into. But as yet no little white +egg lay in the nest, and when Nip cocked +his impudent little ears at them, they were +off with a whirr that sent him, scampering, +startled and scared, after the boys. From +the trees to which they had flown, the Bob +Whites watched the movements of the +boys with some anxiety. “They might, +you know,” whispered Mrs. Bob, “be after +that brood of our cousin’s beyond the +brook; but no, they’ve stopped—they are +throwing something into the water, and +there’s that good-for-nothing Nip with +them, so we may go back to the nest.” +But they did not go, for there was that +pert Jennie Wren fluttering about, as bold +as anything, actually peeping into the bait +gourd, and, goodness gracious! she has +stolen a worm and flown off with it; what +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +impudence! And listen, there’s Cardinal +Grosbeak singing to them,—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">“Boys, boys, boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Do, do, do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fish a little deeper.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>There he is, just a little above them, upon +the hackberry; now he’s flown to that +willow; he looks like a coal of fire, there +among the green leaves. Now he begins +again with his—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">“Boys, boys, boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Do, do, do.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>“The song may do well enough, but we +don’t approve of such forward ways,” +sighed Mrs. Bob. “No,” chimed in Mrs. +Mate Hare, limping from her home in the +broom sedge. “It’s not safe, with that +horrid little Nip so near; to be sure, they’ve +got wings, but as for me, he just frightens +the life out of me, with his nosing and +sniffing; forever nosing and sniffing after +some mischief.” And she wiggled her nose +and ears and looked so funny that the Bob +Whites almost laughed in her face.</p> + +<p>Before long there was a little white egg +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +in the nest, and Bob White was so proud +of it that he just stood upon the fences +and called, “Bob White, Bob White, Bob +White,” all day long. And the boys who +lived over yonder at the farmhouse said, +“Listen to the Bob White, he’s got a nest +over there in the wheat.” “Let him alone,” +said the farmer; “there’ll be good shooting +over there by and by.” But Bob White +had no thoughts to spare for by-and-bys. +The blue June sky and the rustling wheat, +the wild roses, and that little egg lying +there in the nest were enough for him. So +he just turned his round breast to the sunshine, +and called “Bob White” louder than +ever.</p> + +<p>After a while, when the nest was full of +eggs, the Bob Whites would creep through +the wheat and whisper of the little ones +that would soon be coming. “They’ll be +here by the time the wheat is ripe,” says +Bob. “It’ll be fine feeding for them,” replies +Mrs. Bob. They never thought of +the reapers with their sharp scythes, and of +the noise and tramping, where all was now +so peaceful.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +While Mrs. Bob sat upon her eggs, it +amused her to see the Mate Hares come +limping out at sunset, very timidly at first, +pausing, startled, at every sound. Soon, +however, they forgot their fears and began +their dances, hopping and running round +and round like mad, and cutting such capers +as quite scandalized the Bob Whites.</p> + +<p>“How very odd!” said Mrs. Bob, as she +settled herself over her eggs. “I have heard +that the March Hares have a Bee in their +bonnets.” “Same family,” Bob White +replied drowsily. Then Mrs. Bob, pressing +her soft feathers gently upon her eggs, +tucked her head under her wing and slept.</p> + +<p>Their dance over, the Mate Hares skipped +down to the meadow, where the dew lay +thick upon the clover. “How good!” they +said, as they nibbled and munched. “So +sweet and tender, with the dew upon it!” +“Who would eat dry seeds like the Bob +Whites?” said one. “And go to sleep at +dusk!” snickered another. “And whistle all +day!” said a third. “As much as to say to +all men and dogs, ‘Here I am, come and +shoot me;’ so silly! Oh, there’s no family +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +like the Mate Hares for sense; come, let’s +have another dance.” So they skipped and +hopped and munched clover until the dawn +sent them scudding away to their homes.</p> + +<p>Well, at last, upon a sunny June morning, +the lonely field was no longer lonely, +neither was it quiet; for the grain was ripe +and the reapers had come. Yes, the reapers +had come, and with them came Nip. Yes, +there he was, showing that ugly little red +tongue of his, and poking his black nose +into every hole and bush; no place was +safe from those inquisitive eyes and sharp +little cruel teeth. Mr. Bob watched him +with a fluttering heart, as he ran sniffing +about; suddenly, there came a sharp yelp, +and then Mrs. Mate Hare’s cotton tail went +flying over rock and brier, followed by Nip, +with his short, inadequate legs. Soon, however, +he tired of this fun, and, trotting back, +cocked his ears at the brier patch, sniffed +about it, and crept in. Bob White, with an +anxious call, flew into a tree.</p> + +<p>“He’s got a nest somewhere about +there,” said one of the reapers. “I bet it’s +full of eggs,” he added. “Yes, but the boss +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +has give orders that they ain’t to be tetched,” +said another. Then there came from the +thicket a growl and a yelp, and Mrs. Bob, +with a loud whirr, flew to her mate. “Nip’s +got ’em!” cried one of the men, and, picking +up a stone, he ran to the thicket, from +whence now issued yelps of anguish. “He’ll +not trouble them again, I reckon,” the man +said, with a grin, as he picked up his scythe.</p> + +<p>Nip trotted home with a crestfallen and +dejected air, but the Bob Whites, still agitated, +remained in the tree, with necks +craned anxiously toward the nest. When, +at length, Mrs. Bob found courage to return, +the melancholy sight met her eyes of three +broken eggs, some more scattered ones, and +a generally disordered nest. Bob now came +to her assistance, the scattered eggs were +put back, the nest repaired, and Mrs. Bob +contentedly seated herself upon it.</p> + +<p>The hatching time was drawing near, +and it was a most exciting period. Mrs. +Bob sat very still, but, as for Bob, he just +fidgeted from nest to tree and back again, +stopping around and asking questions. +Yes, one egg is pipped; they’ll all be out +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +by to-morrow. And so they were,—thirteen +little puff-balls, upon tiny coral feet. +“There would have been sixteen, but for +that horrid Nip,” sighed Mrs. Bob. But she +was very proud and happy, as she led the +little brood through the brush, showed them +how to pick up ants’ eggs, and tore up the +soft mould for grubs and other dainties. +When the nimble little feet grew tired, she +took them to the alder thicket, where, hidden +away beneath her feathers, they piped +themselves to rest. It was very quiet now: +the reapers had gone; there was no rustling +of waving wheat, only the shocks stood up +silent; there was only the soft clang, clang +from the bell-cow, as the herd went home. +Then the sun went down, and grayness +followed, and from the thicket came the +sad cry of the Chuck Will’s widow. But +the Bob Whites were fast asleep. At dawn, +Bob White stood upon the topmost rail, +and whistled and whistled as loud as he +could; he felt so happy that he had to +repeat, “Bob White, Bob White” to everything +that he saw,—to the bell-cow, as +she passed by on her way to the meadow; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +then to the boy, who popped his whip and +whistled back; then to the trees, which +nodded in return. When the sun came +glinting through the leaves and set the dewdrops +to glistening and the whole world +to laughing, he whistled louder than ever, +just for joy. But presently the reapers +came again. Then Bob White slipped +away and hid himself far down amid the +alders, where Mrs. Bob was showing the +puff-balls how to pick up grubs and how +to use their little nimble legs in running +after gnats and other good things. “Don’t +try to catch that great bee, but come and +pick up these ants’ eggs,” she called, as she +threw aside the earth with her strong claws. +“You must attend to what I say, for you +are very ignorant little things, and if you +are not careful to mind what I say you may +be caught up by a hawk at any moment. +So, listen: when I say ‘Tuk,’ you must hide +yourselves immediately; don’t try to run +away, but just get under a rock, or even +a leaf, or just flatten yourselves upon the +ground, if you can’t do better; you are so +nearly the color of the ground that a boy +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +will never see you, and you can even escape +a hawk’s keen eye.”</p> + +<p>After a while, mother and brood left the +alder thicket, and, as the reapers were now +in a distant part of the field. Mrs. Bob led +them all to a sunny spot where they might +pick upon the fallen grains and wallow in +the dry, hot sand. It was very nice to do +this, and they were having a charming +time, when suddenly voices were heard, +and at once two boys were upon them. +But not so much as one little brown head +or one little pink toe was visible; the sign +had been given, and now only a poor, +wounded Bob White lay in the path before +them. “She’s dead,” said one of the boys. +“No, she ain’t, her wing’s broke,” cried the +other, as he made a dive at her. But somehow, +Mrs. Bob continued to flop the broken +wing, and to elude them. Another futile +dive, and the two tin buckets containing +the reapers’ dinners were thrown down and +forgotten in the keen interest of chasing +the wounded Bob White, who managed to +flop and flutter just beyond their reach +until she had led them quite across the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +field,—then, with a whirr, she bounded +into the air and safely perched herself upon +a distant tree. The astonished small boys +gazed blankly after her, wiped their hot +faces upon their sleeves, and turned, reluctantly, +to pick up their buckets. As they +went along, hot and crestfallen, one of them +suddenly exclaimed: “She’s got young +ones hid yonder, I bet,” and with that they +set off at a run. Mrs. Bob White, who +knew boy-nature well, craned her neck to +watch, and fluttered nearer. Then Bob +White came, and both continued to watch +with anxiously beating hearts, for those +little boys were evidently bent upon mischief. +Would the poor little puff-balls outwit +them? One little piping cry, one brown +head raised, and all would be lost. But, as +they watched, their fears began to subside. +The boys are again wiping their hot faces, +they look discouraged, they have evidently +found nothing; yes, certainly not, for, see, +they are picking up their buckets, and now +they are going across the field to where +the reapers are calling them to hurry along +with their dinners.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +Such daily annoyances as this now determined +the Bob Whites to take refuge in +the alder thicket, in whose deep seclusion +they soon regained tranquillity of spirits. +The dampness of the situation, however, +proving most unfavorable to their brood, +they anxiously awaited the time when the +departure of the reapers would restore quiet +and enable them to return to their haunts. +At length the wished-for time arrived; from +the topmost boughs of the big maple Bob +White could see neither man, boy, or dog, +in the whole length and breadth of the +field. Summoning the family together, they +joyfully crept through the brush to bask in +the broad stretches of sunshine and to pick +up the scattered grain amid the stubble. +Here they remained through all the long +summer days, their solitude broken only by +the yellow butterflies and by the big brown +grasshoppers bumping about in the stubble, +the silence broken only by the occasional +jangle from the bell-cow, as she shook +the deerflies from her sleek sides.</p> + +<p>By and by, when the goldenrod was +yellow upon the hillside, the young ones, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +in their new brown coats, began to try their +wings, and felt very proud if they could +make them whirr, when they rose to the +fence or to a low brush. Had they been +boys, they would have been called hobbledehoys; +but, being Bob Whites, they were +known as squealers, and as such they felt +very mannish and ambitious to be independent; +but, nevertheless, they still liked +to huddle together at nightfall and talk +over the day’s doings, close to, if not under, +the mother’s wing.</p> + +<p>By and by, again, when goldenrod stood +brown and sere upon the hillside and the +sumach glowed red in the fence corners +and thickets, when the fall crickets were +chiming their dirge down amid the grass +roots and the air was growing frosty at +nights, then the Bob Whites grew restless +and took flight for a far-off pea field, noted +as a feeding-ground. Here they met other +families of kinsfolks, and then began a right +royal time, running nimbly through the +rich pea vines or scratching in sassafras or +sumach thickets for insects, growing fat and +growing lazy all the time. The gourmand +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +of the autumn was in manner quite a contrast +to the Bob Whites of the days of +young wheat and wild roses. No blithe, +good music now issued from that throat +so intent upon good cheer. True, some +unpleasant rumors are afloat. The Mate +Hares, scudding frantically away, reported +an advance of men, with guns and dogs; +but the Mate Hares were always silly and +unreliable. So our Bob Whites just keep +on eating and making merry. Fortune may +favor them,—who knows? Let us hope, +and listen out next year for the cheery +“Bob White, Bob White,” from the old +nesting-place.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> +<h2>LITTLE DAVE</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>he cool fogginess of an August +morning has melted under +the fierce sun. The level fields, +like a waveless ocean, stretch +away into the dim, green distance. The +hot air quivers above cotton-fields, heavy +with bolls and gay with blossoms, which +give out a half-sickening fragrance. A +languid air rustles low amid the corn, from +whose dense growth arises a damp, hot +breath. Out in the pasture, work-horses +leisurely crop the sunburnt grass, or stand +under the trees, lazily switching away the +swarming gnats.</p> + +<p>A restful quiet broods over the big plantation, +for the plow and the hoe have finished +their task; sun and showers must +do the rest. The crop is “laid by,” and +the summer holidays have begun. Three +days of rest before the gathering in begins.</p> + +<p>Over at the quarter, the young people +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +fill the long, lazy day with patting and dancing, +banjo-playing and watermelon-eating. +The elders, for the most part, are absorbed +in preparations for the big holiday dinner. +By dawn, holes have been dug in the ground +and heated for the barbecuing of various +meats, and those who hold the honorable +posts of cooks are busily engaged in basting, +tasting, and sending the small urchins +after fuel. Some of the women are kneading +flour hoe-cakes; others, gathered about +a table under a great mulberry tree, are +peeling fruit for pies, while now and then +they raise their voices with blood-curdling +threats to hasten the lagging steps of a little +gang, which, looking like a string of black +beetles, troop slowly along from the orchard, +each holding in the skirt of his solitary garment +the small store of fruit which he has +not been able to eat. A row of tables spread +in the shade stands ready for the feast, and, +along the pathway, the guests from neighboring +plantations are already approaching.</p> + +<p>Up at the great house an unnatural quiet +prevails, for upon this day all work is laid +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +aside and all are off to the barbecue; even +old Aunt Sylvie has forgotten the “misery” +in her back, has donned her Sunday garments, +and stepped briskly off to the quarter; +cook, too, has closed the ever-open +kitchen door and departed, along with +nurse, over whose toilet her little charges +have presided with so much zeal that they +have emptied their mother’s cologne flask +in order to bedew their mammy’s pocket-handkerchief +to their satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Tiny curly-headed Jack feels rather disconsolate +without his mammy, but is partially +consoled by flattering visions of what +her pockets will bring home at the end of +the day.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<p>Away down upon the creek the little +gristmill stands silent; the old mossy +wheel has for to-day ceased its splash and +clatter, and, like all else upon the plantation, +is resting from its labor; to-day no +sacks stand open-mouthed, awaiting their +turn; no little creaking carts, no mill boys +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +mounted astride their grists are seen upon +the path, and Wat, the miller, in the lazy +content of dirt and idleness, lies basking in +the sun. Within the wattle fence on the +other side of the path, his three children, +little Dave, Emma Jane, and a fat baby, are +sprawling upon the ground, along with the +house pig, two puppies, and the chickens. +Little Dave, who is perhaps somewhat +dwarfed by toting first Emma Jane in her +infancy, and now the fat baby, looks not +unlike a careworn little ape, as he sits flat +upon the ground, spreading his bony toes +for the baby to claw at.</p> + +<p>Emma Jane, with her stout little body +buttoned into a homespun frock, is also +seated in the sand, solemnly munching +upon a hunk of corn bread, while the +chickens, with easy familiarity, peck at the +crumbs which fall upon her black shins. +Within the cabin, Polly, the miller’s wife, +has tied a string of beads about her sleek +black throat, and now, in all the bravery +of her flowered calico, is ready to set off +for the quarter; first, though, she pauses +at the gate to speak to little Dave.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +“When de chile git hongry, you git dat +sweeten water off de shelf and gie it to him +long wid his bread;” then adds, with a suspicion +of tenderness upon her comely face; +“I gwine fetch you some pie.” Then, calling +to Wat, that he had better “fix his sef +and come along, ef he speck to git any of de +dinner,” she steps briskly along the narrow +pathway, mounts the zigzag fence, and disappears +amid the high corn.</p> + +<p>Some miles below, where the little creek +which turns the mill-wheel steals from out +the swamp to join the river, a clumsy, +flat-bottomed scow lies grounded upon a +sand-bar. This is no evil to Boat Jim, who, +sprawled upon the deck, snores away the +hours, regardless of the blistering sun beating +down upon his uncovered head, and all +unconscious of the departure of his chance +passenger, an itinerant organ-grinder. This +fellow, having had the ill luck to lose the respectable +member of the firm, his monkey, +and finding difficulty without the aid of his +little partner to attract an audience, had, +while idling about the docks, encountered +Boat Jim, and persuaded the latter to give +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +him a lift up the river, the condition being +that he was to grind as much music as Jim +should desire. But, disgusted with three +days of slow progress upon the boat, he had, +after viciously kicking the unconscious Jim, +stolen the small boat and put himself ashore. +Following the windings of the creek, he +came to the little mill, where, attracted by +the shade, he seated himself close to the +wattle fence of Polly’s little yard. Hearing +voices, he peeped through the fence, and his +eyes were soon fixed upon little Dave, who, +with the fat baby and Emma Jane for spectators, +is performing various tricks with infinite +delight to himself. He stands upon his +head, he turns somersaults, he dances, he +pats, and finally he swings himself into a +tree, where he skips about with the agility +of a monkey. A thought comes into the +organ-grinder’s head; he glances at the silent +mill and at the cabin: evidently both +are deserted; here is a chance to replace +the dead monkey.</p> + +<p>The sun is sending long shafts of crimson +light into the swamp and glinting upon +the millhouse; the high corn, awakening +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +from its midday torpor, rustles softly to the +evening breeze, as Wat and Polly wend their +way homeward. A bucket, lightly poised +upon Polly’s head, holds scraps of barbecue +and little Dave’s promised pie, and, as +she draws near the wattle fence, she thinks, +with a pleased smile, of how she will set it before +“de chilluns,” when a prolonged howl +falls upon her ears. Recognizing the voice +of Emma Jane, she says to herself: “She +hongry, I spek,” and trudges on, in nowise +disturbed by this familiar sound. But, when +they enter the yard, there is only Emma +Jane, bawling, open-mouthed, beside the +baby, who, with the house pig, lies asleep on +the warm sand. The chickens are daintily +picking their way to the house, the old muscovy +duck has tucked her head under her +wing for the night, Old Keep, the stump-tailed +coon dog, crawls from under the +cabin to greet them. But where is Dave?</p> + +<p>The miller carries the sleeping child indoors, +followed by the still bawling Emma +Jane, while the wrathful Polly goes to the +back of the house. Stripping the twigs +from a switch, she mutters: “I knows what +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +you’s arter; you tuck yoursef to dat watermillion +patch, dat whar you gone; but ne’ +mine, boy, you jest le’ me git hold o’ you.” +Then, after a time given to unsuccessful +search, calls of “Da-a-vie—oh, oh, Dave!” +fall upon the stillness, to be answered only +by weird echo from the lonely swamp. +Returning from her search, she finds Wat +seated upon the doorstep.</p> + +<p>“Dave done took hissel off to de quarter,” +he says; “but no mind, I gwine fill +him full o’ licks in de mornin’.”</p> + +<p>But, when morning comes and brings no +little Dave, wrath gives place to fear. The +plantation is aroused; finally the mill-pond +is dragged, and, although the body is not +found, the conclusion is that the boy has +been drowned.</p> + +<p>After a time Polly’s smile beams as +broadly as ever, but her heart still yearns +for her boy, and amid the sleepy drone of +her spinning-wheel, she pauses to listen; +or, standing in her door, she looks ever +wistfully along the crooked path. Across +the way, the little mill clatters on as merrily +as of yore; Wat heaves the great sacks +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +upon his brawny shoulder, metes out the +grist, and faithfully feeds the hopper; but, +when a chance shadow falls athwart the +sunny doorway, he looks up with a gleam +of hope upon his stupid, honest face, then +brushes his hand across his eyes, and goes +on in stolid patience with his work. So +the summer and the autumn pass, without +change, save that Emma Jane substitutes +sweet potatoes for corn bread, and the fat +baby has learned to balance himself upon +his bowlegs.</p> + +<p>Upon a winter evening Wat enters the +cabin at the usual hour. Polly has laid a +bit of clean homespun upon the table; his +bowl of coffee, his fried meat, and his hoe-cake +stand ready; but, instead of falling to, +as his custom is, he sits silent and despondent, +with his face buried in his hands, until +Polly asks:—</p> + +<p>“What de matter; is you po’ly?”</p> + +<p>“I dunno as I ’se, to say, po’ly,” Wat replies, +“but dat boy’s been a-pesterin’ me +dis livelong day, a-callin’ ‘Daddy, Daddy!’ +jes’ like I talkin’ now, till seem like I ’se +most beat out along o’ him.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +“Dat mighty curous,” Polly answered, +“’cause Ole Keep, he’s been a-howlin’ dis +blessed day. I ’lowed dat Ung Silas were +gwine be tuck.”</p> + +<p>“’T ain’t dat,” the miller interrupted. +“Ung Silas, he done got better; he howlin’ +arter sompen nother, but ’t ain’t arter Ung +Silas.”</p> + +<p>Upon that identical winter’s day, in a +back alley of New York, a small crowd of +idlers had gathered to witness the performance +of the “Man Monkey.” A little creature, +dressed in tinsel, leaped and capered, +keeping time to the grinding of an organ. +When the spectators were silent, he would +glance timidly at his ill-favored keeper, but +when they cheered, the poor little figure +would strive to outdo itself, in spite of laboring +breath and trembling limbs. Then +a rope was stretched, and “The Man +Monkey,” seizing an end, swung himself +up, and, amid the acclamations of the admiring +mob, began a new act of his performance. +The day was cold, and at that +dizzy height the wind struck bitterly +through the starved little overtaxed body; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +he lost his footing, caught wildly at the +rope, missed it, and—fell.</p> + +<p>In that brief second did he see the old +mill and the little cabin standing in the +sunshine? Did he hear his mother’s voice? +God knows. When a pitying hand gently +turned the little heap of quivering humanity, +a happy smile lit up the pinched face, +and the dying lips murmured, “Daddy.”</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Little Jack is now a grave and reverend bishop, but I +doubt if he has altogether forgotten the deliciousness of the +flabby pie, eaten with such content at the close that day.</p></div> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE HOG-FEEDER’S DAY</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><span class="dropcapt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>he cold gray light of early dawn +had given place to saffron, and +the first drowsy challenge from +the henroost had been shrilly +answered from far and near, when old man +Jerry awoke from his nap in the chimney +corner, and, finding himself chilled through +all his old, rheumatic bones, bent over the +dying embers, pushed together the blackened +and half-burned “chunks,” and blew +them until they glowed. Then, hitching his +stool close into the ashes, he spread his +horny palms to the blaze, and basked in +its genial warmth as it crackled up the wide +chimney. Reaching his pipe from its nook, +he filled it, dipped it skillfully in the coals +so as to ignite without wasting the precious +weed, and drew a long whiff by way +of a start; then, bending still closer to the +blaze, he pulled away, now and then +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +rubbing his shins in slow content, as though +to emphasize his comfort.</p> + +<p>All things, though, must come to an end. +The “chunks” became a heap of white +ashes, the pipe was finished, and broad +shafts of light stealing down the chimney +and under the door told “Ung Jerry” that +it was time to be stirring.</p> + +<p>He had, according to his usual custom, +risen from his bed long before cockcrow, +and, having cooked and eaten his “morning +bread,” had unlatched his door in order +to throw a morsel to his old hog-hound, +“Drive,” who had already crept from under +the house, and stood wagging his stump +of a tail in eager expectancy. The morsel +being thrown, the old man had cast a knowing +look towards the heavens, and, judging +by the seven stars that it yet lacked an +hour to dawn, had returned to the smoky +warmth and comfort of his hovel, where, +seated in the chimney nook, he had nodded +till roused by the crowings from all the +neighboring henroosts—for his cabin was +one of many.</p> + +<p>The pipe being smoked, Ung Jerry +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +rose stiffly, and, shuffling to his bed, fumbled +underneath it, and, taking care not to disturb +the setting hen, brought out two bits +of old blanket, with which he proceeded to +wrap his feet before putting on his shoes.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> + +<p>The hog-horn was now slung over the +old coat, a bucket of cold victuals was +reached from the shelf, and the old hog-feeder, +equipped for his day’s work, lifted +the latch, and, stepping out into the sharp +frostiness of the November morning, +plodded with heavy steps toward the barnyard, +Drive following closely at his heels.</p> + +<p>The frosty fields were glittering in the +slant rays of the newly risen sun, and sounds +of busy life came floating through the crisp +air, telling the old man that the day’s labor +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +had begun. The sharp crack of the teamster’s +whip told that the great ox wagons +were already afield. The plow-boys +whistled as they led out their mules; men +and short-skirted, heavily shod women went +trooping to the cotton fields; the milkwomen +stepped briskly by, with the foaming +pails balanced upon their well-poised +heads. Then came the cowboys, with noisy +whoop, driving before them the crowding, +clumsy, sweet-breathed herd, while, fearlessly +amid all, pigeons fluttered, greedily +picking up the refuse grain, heedless of the +hoofs among which they pecked and fluttered.</p> + +<p>One small, grizzled mule, of great age +and much cunning, had contrived to slip +into the feedroom, and was there enjoying +a stolen bait of oats when Ung Jerry +found her.</p> + +<p>“You ’speck I wan’t gwine fine you, I +reckon, but you ’se wrong dis time,” he +said, taking her by one of the long ears and +leading her off to the barnyard, where the +little cart awaited her.</p> + +<p>Drive, meanwhile, had crept under the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +barn, where, nosing about, he had come upon +a hen’s nest, and was feasting upon the warm, +fresh eggs.</p> + +<p>The hitching-up was done with great +deliberation. Ung Jerry plodded to and +from the harness-room many times, bringing +out first a chuck collar, then a bit of +leather, finally, after a long search, an end +of rope. At length, when all seemed to be +adjusted, the old man again retired to the +harness-room, where he remained so long +that Drive was contemplating another raid +upon the hens, when he reappeared, bringing +with him an old piece of bagging, with +which he proceeded with careful adjustment +to protect the old mule’s back from the +friction of the cart-saddle. She, meanwhile, +had stood with closed eyes and flopped ears, +immovable save for an occasional twitching +of her small, rat-like tail; but when +the loading began, her manner changed +from its quiescent indifference; watchful +glances followed each basketful that was +dumped in, and an ominous backing of the +ears gave warning of what would happen +should the load be heavier than she liked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +At length, all being ready for the start, +Ung Jerry climbed slowly to his perch +on the cart’s edge, gave a jerk to the rope +bridle, and Rachel moved off, closely followed +by Drive, who, conscious of egg-sucking +and fearful of its consequences, had +prudently ensconced himself beneath the +cart, from whence he eyed, suspiciously, all +passers-by.</p> + +<p>Slowly the little cart crept along the +narrow plantation lanes, crept past the level +cornfields and into the wide pasture, where +sunburnt mares were grazing with their +wild-eyed, unkempt colts; crept past the +marsh, where the heron, disturbed in her +solitary vigil, rose upon silent wing and +sought some more secluded haunt amid +the dim recesses of the swamp.</p> + +<p>Turning at length into the forest, where +the gray moss hanging from the trees almost +obscured the deep blue autumnal +sky, the cart slowly creaked through the +rustling leaves until it came upon a cross +fence which barred the way. Here, as +Rachel came to a full stop, Ung Jerry awoke +from his nap, descended from his perch, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +and, unslinging his horn, blew one long +blast.</p> + +<p>One was enough. In a moment the deep +stillness of the forest was broken by the +pattering of many little feet; from the +thickets the hogs came; each hurrying with +might and main to be foremost, they rushed, +grunting, squealing, crowding to the fence, +where, standing with upturned faces and +small covetous eyes, they awaited the feast of +golden grain which the old man hastened to +scatter amongst them. Then, leaning upon +the fence, he noted each greedy grunter as +he wriggled his small tail in keenest enjoyment +and cracked the sweet corn.</p> + +<p>No need was there to count; to the hog-feeder +each animal possessed an individuality +so marked that in all the drove the +absence of the most insignificant was at +once detected. So now, as he leaned upon +the fence, he cast anxious glances into the +dimness beyond. Evidently some were +missing.</p> + +<p>Drive, too, divining his master’s thoughts, +stood with look intent and anxious yelp, +impatient for the search to begin.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +Then the word came, “Seek, boy!”</p> + +<p>Scrambling through the fence, he dashed +into every covert or tangle wherein a hog +might lurk, but without result; there came +no rush of feet, no shaking of the brown +leaves, no startled grunt. All was still, +save for the quick panting of the old +hound.</p> + +<p>The old man then turned his eyes again +upon the greedy mob, still hoping to discover +the missing ones amongst them. +’T was all in vain.</p> + +<p>“De listed sow, <em>she</em> done gone, an’ de +big white <em>hogue</em>, <em>he</em> done gone, an’ seben +head o’ shotes!” he at length murmured, +still, however, casting expectant glances +toward the thickets, in which Drive was +still sniffing with uneasy yelpings.</p> + +<p>“Seem like dem creturs is clean gone, +sho’ nuf,” he exclaimed, with an air of unwilling +conviction; then adding, “well, ef +dey’s gone, I ’se got ’em to fine, dat’s de +trufe.”</p> + +<p>He called in the dog, and, taking his +dinner bucket, climbed the fence and struck +off into the woods. Now and again he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +would pause, put his horn to his lips, and +give a long blast, then stand listening with +anxious expectancy. Every thicket was +searched. It was a weary tramp,—through +bogs and sloshes, where the cypress knees +stood up like sugar-loaves in the shallow +water, or sometimes his steps were bent +to some open glade, where the great oaks +dropped sweet mast among the brown +leaves.</p> + +<p>The day was no longer young when a +low fence came into view; beyond it +stretched a levee, and at its base a glint of +water showed itself through the great trees, +which stretched their mighty arms as +though they would embrace it.</p> + +<p>Ung Jerry, after climbing the fence, +mounted the levee and stood upon the brink +of a wide and muddy river. Taking off his +hat, the old man wiped the sweat from his +face, then turned an observant eye upon +the river, whose muddy waters were already +lapping the boughs of the overhanging +trees, and with a long-drawn breath exclaimed, +“Bank an’ bank!”</p> + +<p>Then, as his experienced eye noted the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +angry swirls near the shore and the débris +borne rapidly upon the turbid current, “An’ +still on de rise. She gwine be out in de +low groun’s befo’ mornin’, bless de Lord; +I’s been ’spectin’ she gwine play dis trick +eber since de win’ set like et did.”</p> + +<p>Then, looking at the field of standing +corn upon the further shore, protected by +a low levee, and seeming to be upon a lower +level than the red waters of the flood, he +soliloquized:—</p> + +<p>“I’s skeared de fresh gwine ’stroy a +sight o’ Mars Jones’s corn. It raly do ’pear +like dat corn mout a been housed befo’ +now.”</p> + +<p>The old man’s thoughts were interrupted +at this point by loud and animated barkings +from Drive, and, hurrying to the spot +whence they proceeded, he discovered the +old hound standing in a broken gap in the +fence, in a state of excitement over the numerous +footprints which told that the truants +had broken through and made for the +river, evidently with designs upon “Mars +Jones’s” cornfield.</p> + +<p>“Here’s wha’ dey tuck de watah,” the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +old man remarked to the dog, as together +they followed the footprints to the water’s +edge. “Dat ’ere listed sow, she got mo’ +sense un folks! She know ’bout Mars +Jones’s corn, an’ dey ain’t no fence gwine +stop dat cretur when she take a notion for +to go.</p> + +<p>“Well, well, well, de listed sow, an’ de +big white hogue, an’ seben head o’ shotes +done tore down de fence, an’ took deyselves +’cross de riber for to steal Mars Jones’s +corn; I ’clare ’t is a disgrace. I reckon Mars +Jones gwine cuss a plenty when he fine it +out. It certinly is a pity for master’s creturs +to do sich a low-life trick as dat. But +bless de Lord,” and a look of crafty triumph +came into his face, “dey’s got dey bellies +full, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>With this pleasing reflection, and the +conviction that nothing more could be done +for the present, the old man seated himself +upon a log, opened his bucket, took +out his jack-knife, and proceeded to eat his +dinner, while Drive sat by, in eager readiness +to snatch the morsels flung to him, +ere they could reach the ground.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +When the meal was finished, dog and +man each took comfort in his own way. +The dog stretched himself in the sunshine. +The old man sat with bent head +“a-studyin’,” then nodded, then fell into +a deep sleep, soothed by the silence, which +reigned unbroken save for the distant cawing +of a crow.</p> + +<p>The long gray moss swayed dreamily +upon the motionless boughs of the giant +trees. Where the sycamore lifted its +gaunt, white arms, the great bald eagle sat +immovable, watching with fierce, intent +gaze for its prey in the waters below.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The shadows were growing long upon +wood and river when the light dip of a +paddle broke upon the stillness, and old +Jerry, rousing from his nap, spied a canoe +gliding down stream, guided by two youths +who, with their guns lying crosswise upon +their knees, were making for the bank.</p> + +<p>“Mars Harry an’ Mars Phil,” he murmured, +eying them with lazy curiosity, as +they brought their little craft to land, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +after making it fast, picked up their guns, +crossed the levee, and struck off into the +swamp.</p> + +<p>“Dey’s after turkey, I ’speck; Mars +Harry an’ me, we’s killed many a varmint +in dese here woods. Dey want no Mars +Phil ’bout here in dem days befo’ ole Mars +were tuck down.”</p> + +<p>Thus soliloquizing, the old man continued +to gaze wistfully after the retreating +figures; for their appearance had seemed +to bring a disturbing element into his peaceful +dreams, and a look of helpless trouble +overspread his face as, taking off his hat +and slowly scratching his head, he murmured:—</p> + +<p>“Seem like it mos’ a pity Mars Phil +trouble hisself for to come here, anyhow. +Well, well, well! we folks all gwine be +’vided up ’twix Mars Harry an’ Mars Phil, +’cause ole Mars, he not long for dis world! +Bless de Lord, whinsoever it please Him +for to teck ole Mars to hisself, I trus’ he +gwine ’vide off Jerry to Mars Harry’s shere, +’cause I nachally ain’t got no use for t’other +one—he too outlondesh.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +So saying, he rose and reached his bucket +from the bough where it hung. Drive, who +had for some moments been watching him +out of the corner of one red eye, rose also, +and the two set out upon their tramp back +to the cart.</p> + +<p>The old man had climbed the fence, the +dog had scrambled through, and both were +threading their way across the swamp, +when the report of a gun close by caused +the dog to beat a retreat from the thicket +into which he had thrust his nose, and, with +tail tucked in, to creep to his master’s side; +while the old man, exclaiming, “Good Gor-a-mighty! +whot dat?” pushed aside the +bushes in order to see what game the boys +had brought down.</p> + +<p>The sight that met his eyes froze him +with horror. Philip’s lifeless body lay upon +the ground, while Harry, with scared white +face, bent over it.</p> + +<p>For a brief space the old man stood as if +petrified, then muttered: “Jerry ain’t gwine +know nothin’ bout dis here. When ole +Mars say, ‘Jerry, what you seen in de Vine +Ridge Swash?’ Jerry, he gwine say, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +‘Nothin’, Marster, fo’ de Lord. I seen nothin’ +’t all!’ An’ I ain’t gwine tell no lie, nuther, +’cause I ain’t gwine look!”</p> + +<p>Thus thinking, he cautiously drew back, +and, with ashen face and limbs that through +trembling almost failed to support him, he +stealthily crept away until out of earshot; +then took to his heels and fled. When, +however, he was forced to pause for breath, +he considered if he had done well to desert +his young master, and turned reluctantly to +retrace his steps, when, as he did so, the air +was suddenly rent with ear-piercing shrieks +for half a second, and Jerry’s heart quailed.</p> + +<p>“It’s boun’ to be de debil,” he whispered. +Then, a light seeming to break upon him, +he exclaimed: “Bless God! ’t ain’t nothin’ +but de ole Chieftain a-blowin’.”</p> + +<p>The Chieftain, a small freight steamer, +had recently taken the place of the old +flat-bottomed scows, and, as the steam +whistle was still a novelty, it is not surprising +that Ung Jerry, in his terror, should +for the moment have mistaken it for some +unearthly sound.</p> + +<p>After many irresolute pauses, the old +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +man at length reached the scene of the +disaster, and with shaking hands thrust +aside the bushes. Except for the small +birds silently flitting to their roosts, the +place was utterly deserted. The level sunbeams +glinted through the gray moss, +gilded the tree trunks, and glowed crimson +upon the brown leaves; the solitary peace +of nature seemed unbroken; only the pool +of blood at Ung Jerry’s feet told him +that what he had witnessed had not been a +vision.</p> + +<p>After a moment’s survey he was turning +away, when his eyes fell upon the two guns: +here, at least, was something tangible, +and the old man proceeded to secrete them +in the fallen leaves. Squatted upon the +ground, he was too busily engaged to note +the sound of approaching footsteps, and +started violently when a rough voice accosted +him. He mustered courage, however, +to quaver:—</p> + +<p>“Dat you, Mars Jones?”</p> + +<p>“Me? of course it’s me! Who did you +reckon it was?”</p> + +<p>“I dunno, Mars Jones.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +“Well, you’ll know next time, if you +don’t keep them hogs o’ yourn out of my +corn. Why, that confounded old sow can +destroy more corn in one night than you +are worth.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mars Jones, dat de trufe,” meekly +assented the old man.</p> + +<p>Mars Jones, warming to the subject, now +waxed more and more eloquent over his +grievances, until, having exhausted his pent +up wrath, he had leisure to observe old +Jerry’s ashen face and shaking limbs, and +he exclaimed:—</p> + +<p>“Why, what’s the matter with you? are +you sick?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mars Jones, I’s been po’ly dis liblong +day, an’ I’s gittin’ sassifrax for to make +me a little drap o’ tea, I’s got sich a mis’ry.”</p> + +<p>“Sassafras!” here broke in Mars Jones; +and, good-natured, despite his roughness, +he took from his pocket a <i>tickler</i>, and +handing Jerry a dram, said:</p> + +<p>“Drink this, you old blockhead. <em>Sassifrax</em>, +indeed!—what good you reckon sassifrax +goin’ do you?”</p> + +<p>With a scrape and a bow and a “Thank +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +ye, Marster,” the old man gulped down the +dram, and Mars Jones, replacing his <i>tickler</i>, +was turning away, when his foot slipped in +something, and looking down he saw that +it was blood.</p> + +<p>The dram had put so much heart into +the old man that he was able to reply +glibly to Mars Jones’s questions.</p> + +<p>“Its jes’ wha’ I’s been markin’ hogs, +Marster.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe you; I believe you’ve +been killin’ one of your master’s hogs—that’s +what you’ve been at.”</p> + +<p>But as this did not concern him, he did +not wait to inquire further, and so, turning +on his heel, he strode off.</p> + +<p>The hog-feeder, too, hastening away, +took the shortest path back to his cart.</p> + +<p>The deserted barnyard lay silent in +the white moonlight when the little cart +creaked through the gate; but up at the +“great house” there were lights and movements +where the family watched the coming +of the boys.</p> + +<p>Thursday, Friday, and Saturday passed +without tidings, and the hope that they had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +been caught by the rising water and imprisoned +upon some isolated knoll had been +abandoned after the swamps had been +searched in every direction. To add to +the grief of the household, the master, already +enfeebled, now lay prostrated in a +condition that almost forbade hope.</p> + +<p>Upon Sunday the waters began to abate, +fences again appeared, and patches of +drowned corn showed themselves above +the wastes of water, to the no small joy +of the flocks of blackbirds which chattered +and fluttered amongst them.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jones, tired of the loneliness of his +water-girt home, made his way to the +meeting-house, more for the sake of a gossip +with some of the neighbors than for the +day’s preaching, and it was there that he +first heard the startling news of the unaccountable +disappearance of Squire Brace’s +nephews.</p> + +<p>In the excitement, each man was eager +to advance his own theory. The discussion +ended, however, in the general opinion that +their canoe had been swamped in the freshet +and the boys drowned, until a newcomer +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +asserted that the canoe, with Phil’s overcoat +still in it, had been found tied up at the +Vine Ridge landing, and that their guns +had been discovered hidden in the leaves +at no great distance in the swamp.</p> + +<p>Upon hearing this, Mr. Jones could but +call to mind his meeting with the hog-feeder, +his strange behavior, and the blood +upon the ground, and he at once jumped +to the conclusion that old Jerry had been +at least a party to some foul deed. His +suspicions, once made known, became certainties, +and the whole party, hastily mounting +their horses, rode off to the nearest +justice, their convictions gaining ground so +rapidly that, ere the house of the justice +was reached, poor, simple old Jerry, the +most harmless of God’s creatures, had become +in their estimation a villain of the +deepest dye.</p> + +<p>Upon this identical Sunday morning the +old hog-feeder betook himself to the little +plantation church, whose bell, with cracked +clamor, gave warning that preaching was +about to begin.</p> + +<p>The frosty brightness of the past week +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +had given place to a soft mist, through whose +dimness the pale sunbeams looked sadly +upon the autumnal world; and as the old +man, dressed in his Sunday clothes, plodded +along the path, the tiny crickets from beneath +the grass sent up their sad, perpetual +dirge.</p> + +<p>Men and women, all shining with Sabbath +cleanness, came straggling toward the +church, silently and soberly, without the +usual light-hearted laughter, for the trouble +at the “great house” was felt by all the +little band. Yet their feelings were not without +a mixture of pleasurable excitement, +for all were anticipating with gloomy satisfaction +the lengthy prayers, the groanings, +and the head-shakings upon this mournful +day.</p> + +<p>The congregation had taken their seats, +old Jethro had taken his place in the pulpit, +the long-drawn cadence of the funeral hymn +had floated sadly up to the “great house,” +when a noise at the door startled the congregation, +who, turning, beheld standing +in the door a group of white men. Among +them was the overseer, who, coming forward, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +announced that hog-feeder Jerry was to be +arrested upon a charge of murder. “Not +that I believe it, men,” he said, “but the law +must take its course.”</p> + +<p>In the meantime two others had approached +the old man, who had already +stumbled to his feet, and, while bowing in +a dazed kind of way, kept murmuring, +“Sarvent, Marsters.”</p> + +<p>Handcuffs were put upon him, and amid +a profound silence he was led forth and lifted +into a cart. The two sheriffs took their +places upon each side of him, and the cortège +moved off.</p> + +<p>The people, having sufficiently recovered +from their shock to jostle one another out +of the building, stood huddled together like +a flock of frightened sheep; but when the +cavalcade had driven off, a subdued clamor +of voices arose, all unanimous in contempt +for “dese here po’ white, who’d ha’ knowed +better ’n to come meddlin’ long o’ Marster’s +folks ef Marster wan’t down on de bed an’ +mos’ like to die!”</p> + +<p>That the dull and simple brain of the +old man should have been capable of any +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +formulated plan is not to be imagined, and +when upon the following day he was taken +before the justice for examination, he merely +acted from an instinct of affection in +shielding his young master, even at the +risk of his own life. When questioned, he +preserved an obstinate silence; then, when +forced to speak, denied having seen either +of the boys upon the day of their disappearance, +but, when cross-questioned, admitted +that he had seen Mars Phil in the Vine +Ridge woods; and finally, when taxed +with the blood upon the ground and with +having hidden the guns, he reluctantly admitted +that “ef Mars Phil had been hurted” +he had done it.</p> + +<p>“What did you do with the body?” questioned +the justice; “throw it in the river?”</p> + +<p>A murmur from the prisoner, which +passed for assent, concluded the examination, +and the justice, sorely puzzled, committed +him to jail to await his trial.</p> + +<p>With the early morning, the country +people had begun to gather around the +courthouse, and when told that the old +miscreant had actually confessed to the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +murder, their innate love of justice gave +place to fierce anger; and when the prisoner, +gray with terror, bent and tottering, +was led forth, he was surrounded by a silent +but determined crowd, who, thrusting the +sheriffs aside, seized and drove him before +them, and had already slipped the noose +about his neck, when an inarticulate shout +caused the crowd to sway,—a horseman +dashed into their midst and proclaimed +that both boys were alive. Their disappearance +had been explained on that morning +by a letter forwarded by hand, which ran +as follows:—</p> + +<p class="addressr">On Board the Chieftain.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Uncle</span>,—This afternoon, while +hunting in the Vine Ridge woods, Phil’s +gun went off and wounded him in the side. +I was at my wit’s end what to do, when I +heard the Chieftain blow up the river; so +I tore off to the levee, where I was lucky +enough to succeed in attracting Captain +Smith’s attention, who sent off a boat, and +we managed to get Phil on board. I +wanted Smith to put back to our landing, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +but he thought the current too strong; and +on the whole, I believe it is better for Phil +to keep on to Hilton, as it would be impossible +to get a doctor at home in this high +water. Phil’s hurt is not very serious, I hope.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 10em;">Your dutiful nephew,</p> +<p class="sig">Harry Brace.</p> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>On the day succeeding Harry’s homecoming, +he entered the room designated the +“study,” in which the Squire was usually +to be found when indoors.</p> + +<p>The room probably owed the name of +“study” to a set of <i>Farmer’s Magazines</i> +which, in all the dignity of expensive bindings, +divided the shelf with a rather damaged +edition of “The Turf Register,” a +“Farrier’s Manual,” a brace of antiquated +medical works, and a stack of newspapers. +Fishing tackle, a cupping apparatus, a set +of engineering instruments, half a dozen +ears of extra fine seed corn, medicine scales, +and a huge cotton stock filled the rest of +the bookcase.</p> + +<p>The Squire, seated before a blazing fire, +in the lazy comforts of convalescence, with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +pipe and tobacco at his elbow, presented a +not unenviable picture when contrasted with +the wintry grayness outside.</p> + +<p>Harry, who had been greatly touched by +the old hog-feeder’s affectionate fidelity, now +sought his uncle in order to beg that as a +recompense he might be given his freedom.</p> + +<p>“Freedom!” exclaimed the Squire; “why, +confound it, my dear boy, what would he +do with freedom, if he had it?”</p> + +<p>“I think he would like it,” Harry murmured, +a little sheepishly.</p> + +<p>“Why, he’s as free as air now; a deuced +sight freer than I am.”</p> + +<p>Nevertheless Harry gained his point, +and though the Squire growled, “You +young jackanapes, you’ve robbed me of +the best hog-feeder on the river,” still he was +evidently pleased, and in the evening old +Jerry was sent for.</p> + +<p>When, in answer to the summons, Jerry +presented himself at the study door, his +master said to him, with a stateliness fitted +to the occasion:—</p> + +<p>“Jerry, I have sent for you to tell you +that your young master here, as a reward +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +for your fidelity, desires to give you your +freedom.”</p> + +<p>Here the Squire paused, and Jerry, not +knowing what else to say, said, “Yes, Marster.”</p> + +<p>Harry, standing by, was feeling rather +wrought up, while the Squire, also somewhat +excited, continued:—</p> + +<p>“I will give you a house in the free settlement, +out in the slashes, and your young +master will always take care of you.”</p> + +<p>Another rather disconcerting pause was +broken by a second “Yes, Marster;” and the +old man, picking up his hat, shuffled out.</p> + +<p>The Squire glanced at Harry with a mischievous +twinkle in his eyes, but the boy’s +face expressed such blank disappointment +that he took pity upon him, and, picking +up a newspaper, dismissed the matter.</p> + +<p>Upon the following evening a low knock +was heard at the study door, then a fumbling +at the latch, and old Jerry once more +stood upon the threshold.</p> + +<p>“Well, old man, what is it now?” his master +asked kindly. “Come, out with it!” he +repeated, as the old man, with a feeble grin, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +stood helplessly fingering his hat. “What’s +the matter?”</p> + +<p>And old Jerry, slowly scratching his head, +made answer:—</p> + +<p>“Thank, Marster; I’s come to ax Marster +what I done to ’splease Mars?”</p> + +<p>“Displease me! Why, what has put that +notion into your head?”</p> + +<p>“I dunno, Mars, what I’s done, but I’s +skeared Mars mout be set agin me, ’cause +he say he gwine sen’ me offen de plantation.”</p> + +<p>Then Harry explained that he was to be +set free, and eagerly enlarged upon the delights +of liberty. The hog-feeder listened, +but was unmoved: he obstinately declined +to accept his freedom, his plea being that +“the varments” would “’stroy up his creeturs” +if he were not there to look after +them.</p> + +<p>“De black sow, she got a fine litter o’ +pigs now, an’ de foxes is a’ter ’em de +blessed time.”</p> + +<p>After this no more could be urged, and +Jerry, scraping his foot, went out with a +mind full of content.</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> As this is a true tale of an old-time plantation +negro, I think it but fair to state that he had a “chist” +full of good clothes; but, with a parsimony not uncommon +among his race, he preferred to protect his +feet with old bits of blanket, instead of using the +excellent home-knit woollen socks which lay snugly +hidden away in his “chist;” and it was the same feeling +which caused him to wrap himself now into an +old garment made up of patches, although three good +ones lay snugly folded away in the same chest.</p></div> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE JUNIOR RESERVE</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapir"><span class="dropcap">I</span></span>t was in the early summer of +1864 that the family at Swan +Manor was thrown off its balance +by the calling out of “The +Junior Reserves.” That unfledged boys, +and among them their own little smooth-cheeked +Billy, should be called upon to fill +up the thinned and broken ranks of the +Southern army filled their hearts with dismay. +The old Squire, with bushy brows +beetling over his eyes, sat in grief too deep +for words, a prey to the darkest forebodings. +Miss Jemima had wept until her eyes were +mere nothings, while her nose, coming gallantly +to the front, had assumed an undue +prominence. Kate, with her pretty lips +drawn to keep down the rising sobs, tried +all in vain to bestow upon her twin brother +bright looks and smiles, ever before so ready +and spontaneous. In the early secession +days it had seemed such fun to ride to dress +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +parade and toss bouquets to the laughing +“boys in gray,” while all the world played +Dixie!</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Away down South in Dixie.”<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>How she and Billy had whispered and +plotted, and how great the triumph when +together they climbed the gate-post and, +after much toil, successfully planted their +little red and white flag! But now, alas! all +was changed,—they were fast getting to +be grown-up people, and now her own dear +Billy must go to help drive the Yankees +out of Dixie.</p> + +<p>As for Billy himself, a suppressed but +exultant grin shone upon his face, a trifle +deprecating when in the presence of his +grandfather or his tearful Aunt Jemima, +but very jubilant despite these drawbacks. +In truth this junior reserve was only too +pleased to exchange the Latin grammar for +the musket, and little cared he for prospective +hardships, provided school were not +among them.</p> + +<p>In the few busy days before the departure, +Kate followed Billy’s footsteps, trying +in vain to share his elation. “Good gracious, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +Kate,” he would exclaim, when he discovered +her furtively wiping her eyes with her little +damp ball of a pocket handkerchief, “don’t +be such a little goose; why, what would you +have a fellow do? I had no idea that you +were that sort of a girl.” Then, as between +laughing and crying her face contorted itself +into a sort of spasmodic grin, he would +say: “Now that’s right, that’s the way to do, +if you’ll just cheer up, I’ll be all right; the +Yankees’ll not bother me much, you bet.”</p> + +<p>At the request of Serena (Billy’s former +nurse) her boy Cy was chosen to accompany +his young master as body servant, one of +his chief recommendations being that, naturally +“skeary,” he would be a safe companion; +also, as his mother proudly averred, +he was the fastest runner upon the plantation.</p> + +<p>It was upon a golden evening in June +that little Billy bade farewell to his home, +Miss Jemima and Kate going with him to +the little wayside station. Cy, gotten up +in great style, followed, while the rear was +brought up by a motley procession,—all +eager for the honor of carrying some of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +belongings. The Squire, with Don the old +Irish setter, stood in the doorway until +Billy passed out of sight; then the two +together, the old man and the old dog, went +back into the silent house.</p> + +<p>The path to the station wound its way +through a field of ripening wheat, from +whence the clear whistle of a partridge +smote sharply though the fervid air. Billy +paused, and, pointing to a tangle of blackberry, +exclaimed: “There’s a nest there +as sure as shooting, and I’ll go there to-mor—” +A quick catching of the breath cut +short the unfinished words, and the boy, +with lips slightly drawn, quickened his pace. +Kate, choking down her sobs, held his hand +in her tight clasp, as she kept pace with his +hurried step. Miss Jemima, steadying her +voice, remarked with a sprightly air that +there would be fine shooting when he +should come back in the autumn. Then +the little station came into view, looking +very empty and deserted; two men loading +a flat car were the only living objects to be +seen. They paused in their work to greet +Billy, and ask where he was off to. It seemed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +so strange a thing to Kate that all the world +did not know.</p> + +<p>The train was not on time, and the waiting +became so painful that it was almost +with gladness that they heard the warning +whistle far down the track. A small crowd +had gradually collected, and some one remarked: +“She’s blowin’ for the bridge. +It’ll be ten minutes before she’s here.” +To the tumultuously throbbing hearts of +the little party it was a positive relief when +a puff of smoke was seen and the engine +came rushing around the bend. Then there +were hurried kisses; the bell clanged, a +voice called out, “All aboard,” and the train +was off. “Gone, gone, gone,” Kate repeated +over and over to herself, as she gazed with +tearless eyes into the dim distance of the +now silent track.</p> + +<p>As the party retraced their steps homeward +the partridge was still calling his +cheerful “Bob White” from amid the wheat, +while from the shadowy depth of a laurel +thicket came the sweet gurgle of the wood-thrush.</p> + +<p>In the late summer, news—glorious +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +news—came that the foe had been driven +back, and their boy was unhurt.</p> + +<p>Later, a man from the front at home on +furlough was heard to say that “Billy +Swan was a regular trump, and had borne +himself like a veteran.” Kate walked elate, +saying the words over and over, with a proud +smile, “A hero, a regular trump,”—he, her +own dear Billy. The old Squire, too, with +ill-concealed pride in his boy, was once more +like his former self.</p> + +<p>Happy days—brief, hopeful days! Alas, +alas! Many Junes have come and gone since +little Billy was laid to rest in the old burying-ground, +close to the wheat-field where +the partridge calls, calls, the long day +through. June roses scatter their leaves +above him, and when the sun drops low, with +long golden shafts upon the green mound +which covers him, from far down in the +laurel thicket comes the liquid gurgle of +the wood-thrush. Kate looks into faces, +once frank and bright, and full of youth +and hope, now grown old and seamed with +care, and she tells herself that “whom the +gods love, die young.”</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> +<h2>MAMMY</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>wo little snub noses were flattening +themselves against the +nursery window pane, while +the four eager eyes watched +the soft flakes whirling through the air and +silently descending upon the whitening +earth.</p> + +<p>“Sposen we was to steal out,” whispered +the boy, “an’ hide, so Mammy couldn’t +never find us no more.”</p> + +<p>An excited chuckle interrupted the further +development of this deliciously lawless +scheme; but, though the little sister caught +the infection, she prudently turned from +the tempting prospect, saying, “No, Sed, +I’s ’fraid you might git the croups an’ +die.”</p> + +<p>The other occupants of the room were a +little roly-poly cherub of a girl, seated in a +tiny chair, holding in her arms a rag baby, +which she rocked and dangled in servile +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +imitation of her mammy, who, with bumpings +peculiar to the nursery chair, was +rocking to sleep a still younger babe. A +fair little maiden, curled up comfortably +upon a cushion, the firelight glistening +upon her yellow locks, bent over a book, +from which she read, in high-pitched, childish +voice, to her mammy, the story of “Ellen +Lynn.” Mammy was very proud that +her nursling could read, and would cast admiring +looks upon the child as she bent +over her book, with finger pointing to each +word. Both were absorbed in the story, +and every picture was examined with +scrupulous care.</p> + +<p>Another occupant of the nursery was +“Chany,” the under nursemaid. Gawky, +sleek, and black, she sat flat upon the floor, +her large, well-shod feet turned to the fire, +a picture of lazy, vacant content.</p> + +<p>“Ch-Ch-Chany,” stuttered Mammy, “look +in de top drawer an’ git a hankcher and +blow dat chile’s nose. Go on wid yo book, +honey; Mammy ain’t goin’ ’sturb you no +mo.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Lynn left the sleigh, and turning +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +from the island”—piped little Caroline. +Then there came another prolonged snuffle +from Sedley.</p> + +<p>“You Ch-Ch-Chany, why’n’t you git +dat hankcher?” caused that languid maiden +to bestir herself. Having fumbled in the +drawer for the handkerchief, she approached +the window, but no sooner did the little boy +become aware of her intention than, with a +rebellious shake of his curly head, he buried +his nose in his little chapped fists, and, regardless +of Sibyl’s advice, that he had better +be good, he firmly stood his ground, determined +to resist Chany to the death.</p> + +<p>“He ain’t gwine let me tetch him,” said +Chany, feebly dabbing at him with the +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>“Do, pray, gal, don’t be so no-’count,” +Mammy answered. Then Chany, stung by +the imputation, made another helpless dive; +a scuffle ensued, in which she was utterly +routed, and the victorious Sedley threw +himself upon Mammy’s lap.</p> + +<p>“Gi’ me de hankcher,” said Mammy, +with an air of withering contempt. “There, +now, you done woke up your little brother,” +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +she said, when, the nose being blown, she +again returned to trying to jolt baby Joe to +sleep. “He jest had drapped off into a +doze.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, chilluns, le’s pop some corn!” +Chany now exclaimed. “Here’s a whole +sight of it,” she went on, as she searched a +basket, which she had unearthed from the +closet.</p> + +<p>“Oh! pop corn!” shouted Sedley and +Sibyl, running, and each seizing an ear.</p> + +<p>“Oh! pop torn!” echoed the cherub, +throwing down her rag baby. So the +shovel was run into the ashes, and Chany +and the three little ones set to work to +shell the corn.</p> + +<p>Quiet was again restored, and Caroline, +who, all through the hubbub, had kept her +finger faithfully upon “island,” continued +her reading.</p> + +<p>Mammy now substituted a sideways +movement of the knees for the more vigorous +bumping of the chair, and baby Joe—lying +luxuriously upon her wide lap—gazed +dreamily into the glowing coals upon +the hearth, until gradually the white lids +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +drooped over the blue eyes, and he slept. +The nursery was very quiet now. The +corn-poppers were intent upon their work, +and Mammy, soothed by the unwonted stillness, +listened drowsily to the little reader +until fresh interest was excited by the following +words.</p> + +<p>“The men were now still more alarmed,” +read Caroline. “Farmer Lynn said that he +would go with them and see what had become +of Mr. Lynn and Annie. The whole +party accordingly went back to the river. +After searching about for some time, one of +the men espied something black on the surface +of the snow, at a great distance down +the river. They all proceeded to the spot, +and were dreadfully shocked on arriving +there to find that the black spot was a part +of Mr. Lynn’s arm and that his body was +beneath, frozen, and buried up in the snow.”</p> + +<p>When Mammy heard these words, she +threw up her arms, and exclaimed, “Lord, +have mercy ’pon my soul! What! Mr. Lynn +hisself?”</p> + +<p>To her imagination Mr. Lynn was a most +real person. The book was now brought +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +to her and she, with little Caroline, looked +with deep and mournful interest at the picture +of the empty sleigh.</p> + +<p>“It certainly is a awful country to live +in; seem like it ain’t fitten for a dog, much +less white folks. To think o’ Mr. Lynn hisself +bein’ froze to death. Well! well! well! +It certainly was onexpected.”</p> + +<p>The children’s story books furnished +Mammy with many thoughts. Among them +was a set of German nursery tales, full of +quaint colored pictures, in which she took +especial pleasure. Seated by the nursery +fire, the baby asleep in his crib and the +others out at play, she would turn the leaves +feeling that each picture was a living portrait. +Slovenly Peter, Rocking Phillip, and +Greedy Jacob were her favorites. Once +when shown a pretzel, she exclaimed, “Ef +it ain’t the very thing what Jacob had in +his hand when he busted,” and, taking the +pretzel in her hand, she contemplated it +with a thoughtful and sentimental air.</p> + +<p>The nursery door was now burst open, +and in rushed Harry, bringing with him a +blast of fresh cold air; black Ned came too, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +and both brought upon their feet enough +snow to cover the carpet with moist tracks.</p> + +<p>“You Ne-Ne-Ned, ain’t you got no mo’ +manners than to be a-tracking up de house +dis way? Go ’long out and clean your +feet;” but the hubbub was too great for +Mammy’s words to be heeded; pig-tails +were being brandished aloft, and the children +all clustered round Harry and Ned, +asking questions and clamoring for pig-tails.</p> + +<p>“Look!” said Harry. “Here’s somefin +better’n pig-tails,” and he drew from his +pocket the mangled remains of a dozen or +more snow-birds.</p> + +<p>A scramble now ensued, and Sibyl—having +secured as many as she wanted—retired +to a corner, and silently fell to +plucking them, while Sedley, who was as +vainglorious as a Comanche, capered about +on his short legs, and boasted of imaginary +exploits with trap and dead-fall.</p> + +<p>Caroline looked on, half pleased and half +disgusted, keeping herself clear of contact.</p> + +<p>“Miss Calline she too proud to tetch pig-tails,” +grinned Chany.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +“’F cose she is,” Mammy answered, bridling. +She was very vain of Miss Caroline’s +daintiness.</p> + +<p>The baby was now laid in his crib. +Chany was dispatched for salt and pepper; +the shovel was again run into the ashes, +pig-tails were placed delicately upon the +coals, and the nursery, pervaded with the +various odors of wet shoes, burnt corn, fried +grease, etc., was given up to disorder and +cooking, into which Mammy threw herself +with as much zest as did the children. The +pig-tails were broiled to a turn, and the +small birds were frizzling away upon the +shovel, when Sedley, taking advantage of +his opportunity, made a rush for the door, +opened it, and was outside, with mouth +and hands full of snow. Before Mammy’s +vigilant eye had noted his escape, he was +flying back in triumph, with a big ball in +his fist, when she met him and, with dexterous +grasp, wrenched it from him.</p> + +<p>“Di-di-did anybody ever see your match!” +she exclaimed as she hurled the ball into +the fire. “I clar I’s got a good mind to +take you right straight to your ma.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +But Sedley knew the value of such +threats and soon wiggled himself out of +her grasp.</p> + +<p>“Da now, go ’long an’ ’have yourself,” she +said, with admiring fondness, as he laughed +and capered away from her.</p> + +<p>“Honey, what is you a-doin’?” she now +inquired of Sibyl, who, with hot cheeks, was +bending over a pile of coals. “Cookin’ a +bird? Let me do it,—you’s a-burnin’ your +little face clean to a cracklin’.”</p> + +<p>“No, Mammy, I’m cookin’ my bird for +grandma,” the child answered, rejecting all +help, “an’ I’m goin’ to do it all by myself.”</p> + +<p>“Wh’, baby honey, your gran’ma ain’t +comin’ before Christmas eve, an’ dat’s a +week off. Your bird ain’t goin’ keep all +dat time, but ne’ mine, I’ll make Ned +ketch you another one.”</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Upon Christmas Eve, the children might +have been seen at the big gate, straining +their eyes down the road, each hoping to +be the first to see their grandmother’s carriage. +Visions of waxen dolls, sugar-plums, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +and other vague delights imparted a double +zest to her arrival,—to say nothing of +Uncle Robin (the driver) who, in the estimation +of the little boys, was of far greater +importance than was their grandmother. +To them he was an oracle of wisdom, and +their delight was to follow him about the +stable lot or to sit in the sunshine and +hang upon his words; for his imagination +was fertile, and the boys would listen with +wonder to the tales of his prowess and skill +with horses. Something was now observed +to be moving far down the road, which +soon proved to be the carriage. Yes, there +were “Phœnix” and “Peacock,” which no +one but Uncle Robin could handle, and +there sat Uncle Robin upon the box, and +there was grandma inside, smiling and +waving her handkerchief, and there, too, +sat Aunt Polly, grandma’s maid.</p> + +<p>The carriage stopped, and Uncle Robin, +bowing and smiling, descended and opened +the door, and they all scrambled in and +were hugged and kissed, and Polly admired +their beauty and exclaimed at their +growth. Then the door was clapped to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +again, but not before Harry had managed +to slip out and clamber to the box beside +Uncle Robin, who, having driven through +the gate, handed him the reins, with a +caution to keep his eye upon Peacock. In +the estimation of the boy, this sleek and +overfed Peacock seemed little less than a +raging lion whom only Uncle Robin could +quell.</p> + +<p>“He’ll run in a minute, if he gits a +chance,” said the guileful Uncle Robin. +So Harry clutched the reins and drove +proudly past the lot, in full view of some +of the men, turned in at the yard gate, and +drew up before the door.</p> + +<p>Grandma could not wait for the hanging +of the Christmas stockings, but insisted +upon opening her trunk at once, +and displaying her gifts to the children’s +delighted eyes. The wax babies exceeded +their wildest hopes. The house was made +horrible with horns and drums. Mammy +laughed and showed her dimples and courtesied +over her own gorgeous present, and +all felt that Christmas had really come.</p> + +<p>For several days, indeed, throughout the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +holidays, Harry felt that he had left childhood +far behind him, and, as he strutted +about the stable yard, he now and then expectorated, +in imitation of Uncle Robin, +as though he had a quid in his mouth.</p> + +<p>Aunt Polly, though far inferior to Uncle +Robin in the children’s estimation, was +yet a person of distinction, and no naughtiness +was ever displayed when she was by +to witness it.</p> + +<p>Mammy usually enjoyed a gossip with +Aunt Polly over the nursery fire. But, +sometimes feelings of coolness would arise. +Polly belonged to the family of the mother +of the children, while Mammy came from +that of the father, and between the two a +slight rivalry had always existed as to the +superiority of her own white children.</p> + +<p>“’T is a pity Miss Calline’s back’s so +round,” said Polly one night as the children +were being undressed.</p> + +<p>Now, if there was a feature in which +Mammy took a pride, it was in the straightness +of the children’s limbs and the flatness +of their backs, above all the limbs and +backs in the other branches of the family; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +so, firing up at once, she replied that she +would like to see a flatter back than “this +here one,” laying her hand upon Caroline’s.</p> + +<p>“Miss Emmaline’s is a sight flatter,” +Polly stoutly maintained. “She’s got as +pretty shape as ever I see,—all our people’s +got good shapes from old Missis +down. I reckon this chile’s got her back +from her pa’s fambly.” When Polly said +this, Mammy felt that the gauntlet had +been flung down, and, at once, with an eloquence +all her own, so defended the “shapes” +of her “fambly” that Polly was fairly beaten +in the war of words, and was forced to admit, +with many apologies, that Miss Caroline’s +back was as flat as Miss Emmaline’s.</p> + +<p>Mammy accepted the apology with some +hauteur, and it was several days before entire +cordiality was reëstablished; in fact, +in all her after life, Mammy would, when +in certain moods, hark back to “dat time +when dat long-mouthed Polly had de imperdence +to say dat our folks’ backs weren’t +as straight as hern.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +Full of peaceful content were the lives +of both whites and blacks. Merrily the +Christmas went by, to be followed by +others as merry, and the winters and summers +came and went, turning childhood +into maturity and maturity into old age. +Mammy’s glory reached its zenith when, at +“Miss Calline’s” grand wedding, she herself +rustled about in all the grandeur of a new +black silk and Polly was forever squelched. +The whole world seemed full of prosperity, +abundance, and careless happiness, when +suddenly, like a thunderbolt, the war came.</p> + +<p>The plantation home was abandoned +very carelessly, and with light hearts the +family drove away, expecting nothing but +to return with the frosts of winter. They +refugeed to a farmhouse upon the outskirts +of a little up-country village.</p> + +<p>Sedley, though still a beardless youth, +shouldered his musket, and took his place +in the ranks. Sibyl and her mother, in the +little rude farmhouse, thought not of their +lost splendor, but cheerfully looked for the +good days sure to come when, the war over, +the dear ones would come back, and the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +old times. Every Southern woman knows +how it was when the great battles were +fought and a trembling, white-lipped group +of women and aged men would stand huddled +together to hear what the midnight +dispatches might have in store for them.</p> + +<p>In the little upland village the refugees +were closely knit together by hopes and +fears in common. When sorrow fell upon +one household the little community all +mourned. But if the wires brought glad +words that all at the front were unharmed, +there would come a period of happy reaction; +the little society would be wildly gay, +especially if one or more young heroes +from the front had come home with a +slight wound,—just enough to make a +demigod of him.</p> + +<p>Such was Sedley’s happy fate one never-to-be-forgotten +summer, when every girl in +the village fell madly in love with his blue +eyes and his gray coat and his mustache +and his lovely voice, as he strummed the +guitar in the moonlight,—and most of all +with his merry laugh. Did time permit, I +might tell of such odd costumes, such +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +make-ups of homespun and lace, fine old +silks and calicoes, in which the Dixie girls +danced so merrily.</p> + +<p>It was just upon the heels of one of these +happy seasons that a rumor was whispered +that the army was about to fall back and +that the offices and stores would be removed +in consequence. At first the rumor was rejected,—no +good Confederate would listen +to such treason; but finally the croakers +were proved to be right. The government +stores were hastily removed. The office-holders +took a sad farewell of those whom +they left behind them, and the little town +was abandoned to its fate, outside the Confederate +lines.</p> + +<p>Sibyl and her mother were among the +tearful group who watched the little band +of departing friends, as it passed out of the +town, waved a last adieu, and strained their +dimmed eyes for a last sight of the Confederate +gray, ere they went sadly back to their +homes.</p> + +<p>When Sibyl and her mother reached +home, they found Mammy already at work. +She had ripped open a feather bed, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +amid its downy depths she was burying +whatever she could lay her hands upon. +Clothing, jewelry, even a china ornament +or two,—all went in. It was a day or two +after that Rita complained of a great knot +in her bed, which had bruised her back +and prevented her sleeping. Mammy +heard her, but, waiting until they were +alone, said in a half whisper, “Honey, I +knows what dat knot is, ’t ain’t nothin’ but +your brother’s cavalry boots that I hid in +the bed. I reckon the feathers has got +shuck down. Don’t say nothin’, an’ I’ll +turn your bed over, and then you won’t +feel ’em. An’, honey, do pray be kereful +how you talks before Jim. I ain’t got no +’pinion o’ Jim, an’ it’ll never do in de +world to let him speck where the things is +hid.”</p> + +<p>No one knew how soon the Yankees +might come, and all were busily engaged +in concealing whatever they had of value. +People may smile now at some of the recollections +of that day, but they were earnest +enough then, and as much importance was +attached to the concealment of a ham or a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +pound of black sugar as to that of a casket +of diamonds. Clothing and provisions +were hidden in various strange and out-of-the-way +places, and, when night came, +Mammy and her mistress were glad to rest +their tired bodies, although too much excited +to sleep. At last, however, a deep sleep fell +upon them, from which they were awakened +by the distant roar of cannon. The +village, though no longer a depot for Confederate +stores, was not to be given up without +a struggle. It now became a sort of +debatable ground, and cannonading, more +or less distant, told the anxious listeners of +almost daily skirmishes.</p> + +<p>Awakened by the cannon’s roar, Sibyl +opened the window and listened. A pale +glory to the eastward, a low rustle of leaves, +a drowsy chirp from tiny nests, all merging +into one inarticulate murmur of awakening +nature, told that night was over. Sibyl and +her mother hastily dressed themselves, called +Rita from her fearless young sleep, roused +up the baby, as they still called little Joe; +then asked themselves why they did it. +There was nothing to do but to sit on the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +porch or to wander aimlessly, listening with +beating hearts to the faint and more faint +boom of the artillery. And the roses glowed +in the May sunshine, and the honeysuckle +wafted its perfume in at the open windows, +and the bees droned among the flowers, and +all was so peaceful, but for the incessant +dull roar of the battle.</p> + +<p>The Confederates were finally driven +back, the Federals entered the town, and +then the bummers came streaming through +the country, leaving desolation behind them. +Cattle, poultry, everything eatable was +driven off or carried away in the great +army wagons that came crashing along, regardless +of all obstacles in their cruel course. +Cut off from all news from the army, Sibyl +and her mother dragged wearily through +the long, sad summer, and the two children +grew gaunt for want of nourishing food.</p> + +<p>It was a morning in the early autumn +that Sibyl, sitting at work by an open window, +became suddenly conscious of an unusual +presence near her, and, looking up, +beheld a man gazing fixedly upon her. A +party of Federals had that very morning +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +visited the house upon a pretended search +for concealed weapons, and the girl, with +nerves still vibrating with terror, uttered a +little shriek, and, starting up, was about to +close the window, when the figure leaped +over the low sill, a pair of strong arms +encircled her, kisses fell upon her lips, and, +ere the shriek of terror could find voice, +she recognized, under the rough countryman’s +hat, the laughing eyes of her brother +Sedley.</p> + +<p>Such meetings can be better imagined +than described; seconds had become minutes +ere Sibyl or her mother could begin +to realize their joy, which, in its first intensity, +was almost pain. Then came the +breathless questionings as to the well-being +of the other dear ones, then the deep sigh +of thankfulness from the long-burdened +hearts.</p> + +<p>At the sound of a strange voice. Mammy, +peeping in at the open door, had fallen +prostrate with joy, and, while hugging her +boy to her faithful bosom, had called upon +her Maker to testify that upon this very +morning the scissors had stuck up twice.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +“An’ I knowed when dey done dat, dat +somebody was a-comin’.”</p> + +<p>Then Dinah, the cook, came in, courtesying +and laughing and loyal as though no +emancipating army had set foot in Dixie.</p> + +<p>When the joyful tidings had reached the +children, Rita’s thin legs might have been +seen flying through the high grass. The +more practical Joe toiled behind, bending +under the burden of (their treasure trove) +a big pumpkin, a basket of persimmons, +and a few stalks of sorghum, for, like the +Scriptural colts of the wild ass, they passed +their time in searching after every green +thing.</p> + +<p>In the magnetism of the bright presence +of the young soldier, all the sad forebodings +seemed to vanish into thin air. +While listening to his brave words of hope, +they forgot that the sunny hours of this +most happy day were hastening by. Already +the shadows lay long upon the grass, +and there remained yet so much to be +said and so little time wherein to say it! +By set of sun Sedley must be on his way +to rejoin his command. His brief and daring +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +visit had been achieved by his assuming +a disguise before venturing inside the +enemy’s lines.</p> + +<p>“How did you ever manage it?” asked +the mother. “I tremble when I think of it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” he answered, “it was easy enough. +I came in with a fellow who was driving +cattle into town.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Sed!” his sister whispered; “you +ran an awful risk; how will you manage to +get back without being discovered?”</p> + +<p>“There’ll be no trouble about that,” he +answered. “Don’t you and mother go and +worry yourselves about me. I’ll be all +right, so cheer up and don’t look so doleful.”</p> + +<p>Urged on by fear, they now almost hurried +him away, and Mammy, while filling +his haversack with provisions, entreated +him to be careful.</p> + +<p>“De ain’t no tellin’ what dem Yankees +would do ef dey once clapt hands on you.”</p> + +<p>Sedley might guess shrewdly enough +what his fate would be in such case, but +he replied, with his old boyish laugh, that +it was his trade to outrun the Yankees.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +“Never fear, Mammy,” he said at parting. +“Trust me to beat ’em at that game.”</p> + +<p>Then the sad good-byes were said, and +manfully he strode down the little path, +turning only once to wave a last good-by +to the sorrowful group on the broad front +porch, who watched till he passed out of +sight.</p> + +<p>The night was spent in anxious watching, +but confidence returned with the morning, +and all again settled back to their +employments and amusements. Sybil wandered +into the parlor, and, sitting down to +the piano, sang in a low, sweet voice some +of the pathetic war melodies. The “colts +of the wild ass seeking after every green +thing” had sought the sorghum patch, and +Mammy had taken a basket into the garden +for a final gathering of sage leaves. The +day was dreamy, as only an October day of +the South can be. The tempered sunlight, +streaming softly through the filmy autumnal +mist, threw a veil of loveliness over the +homeliest objects; the old gray fences, the +russet fields, the lonely pastures, where +from beneath the grass roots the tiny +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +crickets chanted their low, sweet dirge the +long day through, the cawing of the crows +from a distant tree-top, all told in notes of +most harmonious pathos that “the fashion +of this world passeth away.”</p> + +<p>As Mammy, with back stiffened from +stooping, raised herself for a moment’s rest, +she saw Jim lounge into the backyard and +speak to Dinah. Mammy had but little use +for Jim in general, but now she felt anxious +to know what had been going on in the village, +and for that reason she left her basket +among the sage and went near to hear what +he was saying. As she drew near, Dinah +suddenly threw up her hands, and, starting +from the hencoop on which she had been +leaning, came towards her, stuttering and +stammering in a manner so excited as to +be unintelligible.</p> + +<p>“What’s dat you say? For Gods sake, +ooman, say what yere got to say, an’ be +done wid it!” said Mammy, too frightened +to be patient. Jim then drew near +to her and, glancing cautiously towards +the not very distant piazza, upon which +his mistress happened at the moment to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +be standing, he whispered, “Dey’s done +ketched him.”</p> + +<p>“K-k-ketched who?” stammered Mammy +fiercely.</p> + +<p>“Mas’ Sedley, dat’s who,” Jim answered +doggedly.</p> + +<p>“How you know? I don’t b’lieve a word +on it.”</p> + +<p>“Anyhow, dey’s done done it.”</p> + +<p>“Ho’ come you know so much ’bout it?”</p> + +<p>“’Cause I seen ’em when dey done it.”</p> + +<p>“Y-y-you have de face to stan’ da an’ +tell me dat you seen ’em a-troublin’ dat +chile an’ you not lif’ a han’ to help him?”</p> + +<p>“How I gwine help him? G’long, you +don’t know what you talkin’ ’bout.”</p> + +<p>“Whar’bouts did dey come across him?” +Mammy inquired.</p> + +<p>“Right down yonder at de mill,” Jim answered, +nodding his head in the direction.</p> + +<p>“Good Lord,” exclaimed Mammy, “dey +must ’a’ ketched him directly after he went +away!”</p> + +<p>This conversation was carried on in such +low murmurings that even a listener at a +short distance could not have distinguished +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +what was said; the three were very intent, +but did not omit occasional cautious glances +in the direction of the house.</p> + +<p>“Dat’s so,” Jim replied; “an’ den dey +shet him up in de mill house, and den I +never seed no mo’, ’cause I was skeered an’ +runned away.”</p> + +<p>Then, after an uneasy pause, he added, +“I come ’long dat-a-way soon dis mornin’,” +and here he murmured so low into Mammy’s +ear that Dinah, though she stretched +her neck, could not catch the word, which +turned Mammy’s brown face to ashen gray. +She stood for a minute like one turned to +stone, then staggered to her own doorstep. +Sitting down, she buried her head in her +apron, and so sat motionless for half an +hour, while Jim and Dinah continued their +guarded murmurings by the hencoop. At +the end of half an hour she rose, took a +bunch of keys from her pocket, went into +her house and, closing the door behind her, +unlocked her chest. Drawing from it a +little workbox, which had, in years gone by, +been one of Caroline’s cherished Christmas +gifts, she opened it. From beneath her +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +Sunday pocket handkerchief, and a few +other articles of special value, she produced +another and smaller box which she opened, +and, taking from it a gold coin, looked at it +tenderly.</p> + +<p>“Po’ little fellow! God bless him! he +give me this that fus’ time he come home +from school. I never ’spected to part with +it, but ef it’s de Lord’s will, it may help him +now.”</p> + +<p>With these thoughts, Mammy quickly +replaced the things in her chest, put the +coin into her pocket, and, taking up the +man’s hat, which upon week days she always +wore, she strode off towards the mill.</p> + +<p>As she passed by the piazza, she paused +one moment irresolute, but murmuring to +herself, “’T ain’t no use upsettin’ Mistis, +po’ cretur, and I can do it better by myself +anyhow,” she walked briskly forward, revolving +in her mind her plan.</p> + +<p>The mill house consisted of two rooms, +and in the one in which Jim had reported +Sedley to be confined there was a small trap-door. +It had been used for regulating the +working of the machinery, and led from +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +beneath the house directly to the creek, which +ran close to the walls of the house. This trap +Mammy had once happened to see opened, +and in that way knew of its existence, otherwise +she would never have suspected it, +as, from its infrequent use, it was usually +covered with dust and dirt and could not +be distinguished from the rest of the floor. +Her plan was to endeavor to get speech +with Sedley, tell him of the trap-door, and +leave the rest to him. Her great fear had +been that she might be refused admittance +to him, and hence it was that she +had thought of her gold piece, as she hoped +by its potent influence to be given a few +minutes alone with the prisoner.</p> + +<p>There would be no great difficulty for +Sedley to lift the trap without noise and, +when it was lifted, to swing himself through +to the ground, to creep until he came to the +thick tangle upon the creek banks, then to +swim across and escape into the shelter of +the woods beyond. That would be simple +enough, and Mammy, full of hopeful +thoughts, was walking briskly forward, +when suddenly a turn in the path brought +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +into view a small body of Federals, all +mounted, and evidently coming from the +direction of the mill. They seemed in haste, +and she could hear the rattle of their sabres +as they cantered by.</p> + +<p>Standing amid the broom-sedge, Mammy +watched them, casting eager, anxious looks +upon them, fearing, dreading to see her boy +in their midst, a poor, defenseless captive. +Finally, as the last horseman disappeared, +she heaved a sigh of infinite relief. “Bless +de good Lord, dey ain’t took de po’ chile +wid ’em,” and so went on her way.</p> + +<p>At length the gray gables of the little +mill house came into view, and Mammy, +feeling in her pocket to assure herself that +the gold piece was safe at hand, went boldly +forward, telling herself that, if she spoke +politely, the Yankee guard would not shoot +her. So she went on until the little mill +came into full view, but with no guard or +any other object to inspire fear. All seemed +quiet, and the place quite deserted. There +were footprints about the door, and broken +bushes showed the trampling of both men +and horses, but now all was very quiet. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +The old mill house looked very peaceful, +with the yellow autumnal sun shining +upon its moss-grown roof, with no sound +to break the deep silence, save the low, +continuous warbling of a solitary mockingbird +which, perched upon an overhanging +bough, seemed to review its past joys in +low, sweet notes of retrospection.</p> + +<p>Upon seeing that the place was quite +deserted, Mammy paused, and, after looking +around to satisfy herself that this was +really the case, ascended the steps and, lifting +the latch of the door, looked into the +outer room.</p> + +<p>“Thank God!” she murmured, upon +finding it empty. “Thank God! dey’s all +took deyselves off to town an’ lef’ him here, +locked up by hisself. It raly is ’stonishin’ +to think how foolish dem creturs is; dey +mout ha’ knowed as someon’ would ha’ +come an’ let him loose.”</p> + +<p>While thus thinking, she had crossed +the room, and was now endeavoring to +open the door, which gave admittance +to the inner and larger apartment. Finding, +as she had anticipated, that this door +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +was fastened, she first called to the prisoner +within, and, when no answer was returned, +she shook the door until at length +the crazy old lock gave way and the door +creaked slowly back upon its rusty hinges.</p> + +<p>“Honey, whar’bouts is you?” Mammy +questioned, as, pausing upon the threshold, +she peered into the obscurity beyond. +The windowless room was dark, and +Mammy, after again calling, groped her +way in, straining her eyes into the gloom, +but unable to discern any object. Then, +suddenly, the deep silence and the gloom +smote upon her senses, and a great horror +came over her. She turned to rush from +the room, when her eyes, grown more accustomed +to the darkness, fell upon an +object which froze the lifeblood in her +veins. It lay almost at her feet. She +stooped and bent over it, with thick, laboring +breath. Very still it lay, with set +white face and wide-open, unseeing eyes.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> +<h2>WAR REMINISCENCES</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapir"><span class="dropcap">I</span></span> remember when Wheeler’s +cavalry passed through +town that the men, when +halted, just dropped in the +streets and slept, so that passers-by were +forced to step over them, but in spite of +starvation and weariness the old indomitable +spirit would assert itself. One of the +poor fellows, while the column was passing +by Christ Church, looked up at the weathercock +and remarked to a comrade that it was +the first and only instance of Wheeler’s boys +seeing a chicken which they could not get at.</p> + +<p>We were singularly fortunate in the +neighborhood of Raleigh in having no lack +of wholesome food, and in being able to +send boxes of provisions to the army around +Petersburg. We, in particular, were plentifully +supplied from the plantation, a four-horse +wagon being constantly engaged in +hauling supplies.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +One of the greatest taxes upon our resources, +and the event that brought the war +very closely home to us, was the advent of +the cavalcade and ambulances referred to in +my notes concerning My Own Early Home.</p> + +<p>Most of the horsemen who had come +with the ambulances returned to the front +the next morning, leaving behind them six +or more sick and wounded, with their surgeon +and friends to look after them. Fortunately, +the office in the yard (a house +with two comfortable rooms) was easily +made ready and the wounded men were installed +in the quarters which they kept for +a month. The wound which afterwards deprived +one of the wounded, a young man +by the name of Nat Butler, of his arm, was +by far the most serious. The attempt to +save the arm came very near costing him +his life. Instead of healing, the wound constantly +sloughed, with great loss of blood. +As the wound was between the elbow and +the shoulder, the danger attending amputation +increased with each sloughing, but the +poor boy was deaf to all that his doctor +could urge, positively refusing to have the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +arm amputated, and he grew weaker and +weaker with every hemorrhage. Meantime +several of the sick and wounded were so +far cured as to be able to return to duty. +Captain Butler (an older brother of Nat +Butler), Dr. Thompson, Mr. Taylor, and +several others whose names I have forgotten, +and the bugler, named Glanton, still +remained. One morning, while I was in the +mealroom getting out dinner, I heard Captain +Butler’s voice calling loudly that young +Butler was bleeding to death. I just took +time to call out to my daughters, Annie and +Kate, who were just starting to town, to drive +as quickly as they could to Dr. Johnson’s and +to ask him to come. Then I ran down to +the office, where I found the poor old captain +frantic with terror and quite unable to +do anything for the patient, who lay senseless +and bleeding upon the bed. I can never +forget his ghastly appearance; I never saw +so bloodless a face. The mouth, partly open, +showed a tongue bluish like new flannel. +I went to the bedside and pressed the arm +above the wound, as hard as I could, and I +held it so until the arrival of Dr. Johnson. I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +had thus succeeded in partially arresting the +hemorrhage, and possibly may have saved +young Butler’s life. I started to leave as +soon as the doctor came, and when I arose +from my knees, I realized for the first time +that I was covered with blood. The amputation +could no longer be deferred, and the +operation took place as soon as the patient’s +strength permitted, which was, I think, two +days after the hemorrhage. There was then +barely a chance that he could survive in his +weak condition. I shall never forget how +the girls and I sat upon the front steps and +watched the silent men standing before the +office,—it seemed as though the suspense +would never end. After the amputation, +Butler lay for twenty-four hours like one +dead. Finally, when he did rally sufficiently +to be given something, I sent our excellent +nurse, Caroline, to take care of him, for I +could not trust him to the ignorant though +kindly meant attentions of his friends. At +this time General Galbraith Butler was our +guest, and, as the Norrises had now left +for Richmond, I gave him a room in the +house. He was quite ill there for several +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +days, during which time the house was +thronged with messengers from the front. +It gives me pleasure to say that they conducted +themselves like polished gentlemen, +who appreciated the comforts which they +received.</p> + +<p>Under Caroline’s devoted nursing Nat +Butler slowly returned to life and to a degree +of strength. When it became evident +that Raleigh would soon be in possession +of the enemy, Nat Butler declared that he +preferred the risk of dying by exposure to +that of being captured. It was with the +saddest forebodings that we prepared for +his departure. The ambulance was made +comfortable with pillows, blankets, etc., and +nothing was omitted that could contribute +to the well-being of the poor sufferer. It +was a painful parting, as we all knew that +we were on the eve of horrors that we dared +not contemplate. The moon shone upon +the sorrowful little cortège, as it passed +beneath the trees, and we were too sad for +tears, as we watched it go slowly out of +sight. Nat Butler lived, and visited us a +year later, but his life was a brief one.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +We were up late that night, bidding adieu +to many friends. Indeed, the past few days +had been days of varied and intense excitement. +People who under ordinary circumstances +would have scarcely recognized each +other as acquaintances now met and parted +as old and dear friends. Mounted officers +would come cantering up just for a handshake +and a God-keep-you. We were admonished +to take off rings or any little bits of jewelry +which we might wear. A gentleman sitting +by me had concealed my watch in my ball +of knitting cotton. People everywhere were +wildly seeking places wherein to conceal +their valuables. We had no reason to imagine +that our house was safer than others, but +we could not refuse to receive the trunks +and boxes brought to us in desperation, by +refugees chiefly, who were leaving town in +a panic, and going they knew not whither. +All that we could promise was that they +should be as well cared for as were our own; +and so the garret was packed with all sorts +of trunks and boxes, many of which were +not claimed until the next autumn.</p> + +<p>I cannot pretend to give you an idea of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +the excitement and turmoil of that last +week of the Confederacy. Every minute of +your grandfather’s time was taken up with +his duties as a state officer, until he, in +company with Governor Graham and Dr. +Warren, were despatched by Governor +Vance to meet Sherman with a flag of +truce and to surrender the town. He was +absent upon this mission upon a night that I +happened to go into the dining-room and +found several rough-looking men, whom I +took to be Confederates, seated at supper. +Robert was waiting upon them, and Adelaide +talking, while one of my little children +was seated cosily upon the knee of a particularly +dirty-looking man. This did not +please me, for there was a freedom of manner +about them which I had never seen in one of +our men before. Still, I had no suspicion that +they were not what they seemed, and, being +called off, I left them, although a certain +uncomfortable feeling caused me to do +so unwillingly. Just as I left, a clatter of +horses’ feet was heard outside, and Adelaide +(always loquacious), exclaimed, “Here +comes the General and his staff!” The +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +words were scarcely uttered before the +men jumped from their seats and dashed +from the room. We were afterwards convinced +that they were some of the scum of +Sherman’s army, and while we (myself and +daughters) were sitting quite unsuspectingly, +they were lurking near us.</p> + +<p>I omitted to mention that, at our urgent +invitation, our dear friends the Burgwyns +had come to us, and, in the midst of other +distractions, I was occupied in disposing +of their numerous boxes, barrels, and pictures. +There was a universal feeling that +there would be a degree of safety in numbers, +and we could not possibly have enjoyed +more congenial companionship than +that of our cousins, the Burgwyns. Upon +that day we prepared twenty lunches, which +were most thankfully received. I recollect +that towards evening some hot tea was +made for our old friend, Mr. John Robinson. +He had been at work all day, shipping +freight and provisions, and transferring engines +to Greensboro, to which place he was +now going. He had had nothing to eat, and +was, as you may imagine, very tired, and so +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +hungry that his lunch of cold ham, bread, +and butter, with many cups of tea, was so +much enjoyed that in after life he often +spoke of it with real gratitude. When he +said good-by, he gave into my keeping a little +box of trinkets, requesting me to keep +them for him, as he had no idea what his +destination might be. I, of course, said that +I would try to keep them safely; and I did, +returning them just as I had received them, +some months later.</p> + +<p>Upon that day, our dinner was but a +meagre one, consisting chiefly of soup, and, +as the very last of the silver had been hidden +out of sight, we were compelled to take +it from teacups. Upon that night, after the +stir and bustle of the day had subsided, +after the last good-by had been uttered, and +the last horseman had galloped away, a most +intense stillness followed, which, if possible, +increased our melancholy, and magnified +our fearful apprehensions of what was to +come.</p> + +<p>On the following morning, I saw three +odd, rough-looking men come galloping +up from the barn. They were mounted +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +upon mules, were seated far forward upon +the withers, and had their knees drawn up +after a most ungainly fashion. I saw at a +glance that they were not our countrymen. +They rode furiously into the yard, where +they halted abruptly. The servants stood +gaping at them in stupid bewilderment. I +went forward and asked them the meaning +of this intrusion. Their reply was an insolent +demand for my keys. Then I knew +that they were bummers. During the +whole of this period your grandfather had +had more than his hands full at his office, +taking care of and sending off government +stores, and doing a thousand other things, +so that all the domestic offices rested with +me. I told the bummers, with a great show +of courage, that I had no idea of giving them +my keys, and as I walked off, feeling quite +triumphant, I had the mortification of seeing +them dismount and swagger to the +doors of the mealroom, smokehouse, and +storeroom, slip their miserable, dastardly +swords into the locks, and open the doors, +with the most perfect ease. Conscious now +of my own weakness, I would not condescend +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +to parley with them, and watched +them at their insolent and thievish game, +until their mules were almost hidden beneath +the load of hams, sausages, and other +plunder. Then they remounted, and dashed +off at the same furious pace as they had come. +In a little time after others came and played +the same game, only adding to their abominable +thievishness by driving off our mules +and all our cattle. Our horses, I am glad +to say, had been sent away.</p> + +<p>It was towards noon upon that fatal day +that we espied a long blue line crawling +serpent-like around a distant hill. Silently +we watched, as it uncoiled itself, ever drawing +nearer and still nearer, until the one +great reptile developed into many reptiles +and took the form of men. Men in blue +tramping everywhere, horsemen careering +about us with no apparent object, wagons +crashing through fences as though they +had been made of paper. The negroes +stood like dumb things, in stupid dismay. +It was at a later period that their time of +joy came (in many instances it never came); +then the only feeling was one of awe.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +In an incredibly short time tents were +pitched, the flag run up, and the Yankees +were here. The crowd grew more dense. +A large column was passing through the +grove at almost a run, when, to my horror, +I saw Adelaide and Lizzie, each with one +of my little girls in her arms, rushing along +in their midst in a state of such wild excitement +that they had almost lost their reason. +Almost in despair, I rushed after them, sometimes +seeing them, only to lose them again +in the moving mass. As I passed a soldier +I signed to him for help; I do not think I +could have spoken. He saw the danger that +threatened my children, and, overtaking the +two nurses, took the children and brought +them to me. The women had meant no +harm, and did not realize the risk.</p> + +<p>As I before remarked, every one during +this period of panic entertained an idea +that he must commit his valuables to the +keeping of some one else; for instance, +my sister gave her set of pearls to her maid +Sally for safe keeping, and Sally, in her turn, +brought them to Caroline (her mother). +Caroline, not knowing a safe place of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +concealment, lifted a stone from her hearth, +placed the casket in the cavity, and replaced +the stone; this, however, caused the stone +to fit loosely in the hole from which it had +been displaced, and Caroline, in her fear +lest this should lead to the discovery of the +pearls, sat all night with her feet resting +upon it. She came to me in the morning, +looking perfectly haggard, and told me that +she had never before passed through such +a night of horror, for her house had been +crowded with Federals, prying into every +corner and taking whatever they fancied. +With my sister’s casket, she handed me a +red cotton handkerchief tied up and full of +silver coins, belonging to herself and her +husband. She had no place in which to +keep it, and asked me to take care of it. I, +of course, took charge of it and kept it for +her until the last bluecoat had left the +place, which was not until August; for, +after the departure of the army, a regiment +was left in our grove.</p> + +<p>One day General Logan came to the +door and said that he had reason to believe +that a Confederate officer was concealed in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +the house, and, if I kept his presence a +secret, he threatened me with the consequences. +The Federals, while searching for +buried treasure, had discovered the amputated +arm of poor young Butler, and had +jumped to the conclusion that he was concealed +in the house. At all events, it served +as a plea for them to claim that he was +there. When I assured him that this rumor +was quite false, his manner was so utterly +incredulous that I requested him to satisfy +himself of the truth of my assertion by making +a search of the entire house and outbuildings. +I entreated him to do this, for +his threats had so alarmed me that I felt +that in that alone lay our preservation. His +reply, with an insolent, jeering laugh, was: +“I will not take that trouble, for my boys +will settle that question.”</p> + +<p>The safeguards stationed both at the +back and front protected the house. For, +whatever might have been their feelings, +they dared not relax in their vigilance. +The discipline in that army was perfect.</p> + +<p>Not long after the above-mentioned interview +with Logan, we were told (by a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +servant, I think), that the whole division +was going to leave that night. This was +true. It was before the articles of the surrender +had been signed, and Logan was in +pursuit of General Johnston. It was a night +of such commotion that not one of the family +retired to rest. It was discovered, when +too late for redress, that Logan had withdrawn +our safeguards, taken every commanding +officer with him, and had left us +to the mercy of his wagon train of bummers +and of negroes. That night of terror +terminated in a violent storm, in the midst +of which your grandfather set out for the +headquarters in town for the purpose of demanding +a safeguard. With daylight came +a greater feeling of safety, so we separated, +the girls going to their rooms, and I to mine, +in order to refresh ourselves and make a +fresh toilet. While so engaged, I kept hearing +the bells ringing and tinkling incessantly, +and, while I was hurrying to put on +my dress in order to inquire the meaning of +this, Caroline and Adelaide rushed in, exclaiming +that men were climbing the walls +of the house, and the tinkling of the bells +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +was caused by their twisting them off the +wires. These women, whose natural color +was bright mulatto, now looked ashy. I do +not think that I spoke a word, but just flew +into the nursery, took the children, and ran +up the stairs. As I passed by the sitting, +room, I met Kate, all disheveled, running +out and saying that men were climbing +into her window. I just took time to lock +the door between her room and the sitting-room, +and then we all ran upstairs, where the +Burgwyns and my other girls were quietly +dressing, in entire ignorance of what was +taking place. It seems strange that I should +recollect every trifle so vividly; I remember, +even now, that, as I ran up the stair, my +throat and mouth became so dry that I +could not speak. From the window at the +head of the stair nothing was visible but a +sea of upturned faces; not just by the house, +but away down the slope, as far as the eye +could reach, were men’s upturned faces. +I can never forget the look upon Mrs. +Burgwyn’s face as she whispered, “We +can throw ourselves from the window.” +My poor, craven heart might have failed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +me, but I am convinced that she could have +done it. While we thus stood, a poor, cowering, +terror-stricken group, steps were +heard approaching, and a tall figure slowly +ascended the stairs, and a grim, saturnine-faced +man stood before us, and said, “I +don’t know that I can save you, but for the +sake of my mother and sisters I will do all +that I can do.” I do not remember whether +any one made a reply or not, I only recollect +that he went as deliberately as he had +come. When your grandfather returned, +having with difficulty succeeded in procuring +the permit for a safeguard, the mob +had begun to disperse. Our deliverer was +a man named Fort. He was division quartermaster, +and had been left in charge of +the wagon trains. He was from one of the +Western States, Iowa, I believe. He was +a good man, and was God’s instrument to +save us from destruction. He remained +near the house all through the day, and at +first said that he would sleep that night inside +the dwelling, but afterwards told your +grandfather that, upon further consideration, +he thought it best that he should stay +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +outside, so his tent was pitched close to the +house, and there he remained until his command +left. He was forbidding in manner, +and would accept no thanks. I think that +he hated us as Southerners, but acted from +humanity.</p> + +<p>Mr. Burgwyn was suffering from an apoplectic +stroke, and was lying insensible. My +son had not returned from Appomattox. +Had any man been with us, he would have +been utterly helpless, and would probably +have been murdered.</p> + +<p>One day, either immediately preceding +or following the incident just related, our +ever-faithful man, Frank, stealthily entered +the house. He was evidently afraid of being +observed, for he slipped in, and, closing the +door after him, asked to speak a word to +his master. When your grandfather came, +Frank almost whispered his communication, +as though afraid of being overheard. +“Master,” he said, “I come to ask you, +please, sir, don’t go out of the house to-day;” +he would not say why he gave this +warning, and it was not until afterwards +that we found that the Federals had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +intended to hang your grandfather up until +he told them where our silver was hidden. +I rejoice to say that they did not get one +piece of it, although a part of it was buried +in the branch that runs at the foot of the +grove, and, in digging out a place for watering +their horses, they had actually thrown +the sand upon the box, thus burying it +deeper.</p> + +<p style="padding-bottom: 3em;">I could relate many other incidents of +this period, some of them rather amusing; +but it is time to bring my reminiscences to +a close. But before doing so, I must say a +word about our last safeguard, Monhagan. +He was Irish, and possessed all of the best +attributes of the Irish character. After the +departure of Logan’s division, with the rest +of Sherman’s army, this man was deputed +to guard the place, as a regiment was still +quartered in the grove. He stayed until +August, and, besides faithfully discharging +his duties, he exerted himself in other and +various ways to ameliorate the inconveniences +to which we were subjected. Our +servants, lounging in idleness, contented +themselves with professions as idle. Frank, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +acting upon his master’s advice, had taken +his family to the plantation. Adelaide was +ill the greater part of the summer with +brain fever. Monhagan worked the garden, +gathered fruit and vegetables, and performed +many other services. I felt a little +amused when he one day brought me all +his money and asked me to take care of it +for him. At first I positively refused to +take upon myself this responsibility, but +yielded at last, and made him count it, and +kept it as long as he remained. Every Saturday +afternoon he would come and ask +me to let him have one dollar and allow +him to go to town for a little while. He +left with the regiment in August, and he +wrote once to your uncle Tom from New +York, but omitted to give his address, +which we regretted, as we would have liked +to have him as a gardener.</p> + + + +<div class="bbox"> +<p><b>Transcriber's Note</b></p> + +<p>Minor typographic errors have been corrected without note. However, +variation in spelling, particularly in the speech, but also in +other words, has been left as printed.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Plantation Sketches, by Margaret Devereux + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLANTATION SKETCHES *** + +***** This file should be named 22673-h.htm or 22673-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/6/7/22673/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +made from images produced by the North Carolina History +and Fiction Digital Library.) + + +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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